#but sometimes using a pen and paper is more productive for me

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[yup-no-way]

What I think is in your bag based on your moon sign?

Hellooo! So I’m making this post because I’ve noticed some patterns in people’s bags based on their moon signs and I felt like it’s worth getting shared. Lemme just say I am studying now for my exams (finals week or my final week). I swear if I open that exam paper and the first question covers exactly what I didn’t study, I will slowly close that paper and cry. I can’t even think about cheating, cause these invigilators WILL BE sniffing me up the ass just to see if my calculator is programmable or not. First exam tmrw so wish me luck guys!

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Aries moon: I think for you guys, it’s like an organised mess. U might throw stuff in one day and then forget ab it only to reach a month later in your bag and go “owwww, so this is where it was!”. I also noticed that they r weirdly prepared for a lot of things, like u have randomly spare chargers or tissues or in general useful stuff that u didn’t necessarily planned for, but rather gathered over time and never got rid off. If u carry paper with u, its almost always wrinkled or ripped, please get a nice folder.

Taurus moon: these people will carry things that make them feel comfortable. Expect things like, wet tissues in case their hands are dirty or perfumes. They r the type to carry extra makeup in case they need to retouch during the day. They tend to have heavier bags bc they will carry half of their home with them (but they will rlly only use a quarter of their things they bring). They r the type to prepare their bag once and not rlly change much in it. Like they will have all the things they feel they need and won’t ever switch it.

Gemini moon: these people can go two ways depending on where they r going. If the go to work/school they will actually carry all their books and utensils (they never work as well). They might also have heavier bags due to the amount of materials they bring with them (ease up love, u prolly don’t even use them all at once). If they go out, god knows their purses are a mystery. These people might prefer smaller bags over bigger ones. In their bags u will 100% find things like forgotten gum, random cookies or snacks, pieces of paper with random stuff on them, etc.

Cancer moon: for these people, their bags will hold high significance. I would say they might carry things that they feel connected to. For each person it varies. I know some cancer moons that love to carry medicine with them in case the ones around them get a bit sick, some that carry snacks in case they feel hungry, some that carry little trinkets that remind them of some special memories, etc. (u get the point). All of the cancer moons I know also carry tissues with them.

Leo moon: u guys will 100% carry a rlly cute pocket mirror w u. These people will have things in their bag that they will use to help retouch themselves during the day. U might even carry spare earrings or possibly even have random jewellery in ur bag. Designer wallet! Every Leo moon I know has a designer wallet (sometime it’s empty). They r more prone to have luxury products in their bag.

Virgo moon: organised folders, high quality pens and paper. They r over packers. They have everything! I am very close w a Virgo moon and whenever we go out and I need smth, they have it. Breath spray, gum, tissues, notebooks, pens, id, extra jacket, etc. They r prepared and so is their wallet. They cannot leave the house empty handed, it’s illegal for them. I’m not sure what they r called, but all Virgo moons I know have that all purpose pocket tool thing, the Swiss pocket knife.

Libra moon: these people will have a very balanced bag. What I mean by that is that they will have an equal amount of stuff that is practical and stuff that is just there as an extra. They r also fairly prepared but in a more chill way. They have some good essentials that never leave their bag. Makeup is a must. Also they always have quite nice pens. I’ve noticed some even have things in that serve no purpose, like a small plushie that they like or a random sticker that they just keep there.

Scorpio moon: they do carry crystals with them. A lot of Scorpio moons people I know are nicotine enjoyers, but even if they aren’t they do carry a lighter with them. Their bag is honestly everywhere. They will have the most random things inside. Kinda messy but in an endearing way. They r the type of people that if u asked them “i know u prolly don’t, but do u maybe have squiggly scissor?”, they will pull that exact unexped object out.

Sagittarius moon: these people r carrying their ID with them just in case they want to do smth impromptu. Expect a good book or maybe a kindle. Journals! Mints! Wired earbuds and an old music player because they swear it sounds different. They might have a good luck charm that never leaves their bag. Sometime even concert or festival bracelets.

Capricorn moon: everything here has a purpose. My sister is literally a cap moon and I haven’t seen her carry more than necessary. Even if it’s going out just to chill, pure essentials (like she leaves the house with lipgloss and a phone). For school, this girl carries every book, every notebook,nice pens, iPad, id, wallet, etc. Bags are not intentionally heavy. If they r heavy that means that they simply need a lot of things.

Aquarius moon: random receipts and pieces of junk. Tangled headphones. My friend always needs her headphones. If she forgot them at home she’d go back just to get them. Lighters and almost always tarot cards. These people have hard to pin down bags. They just vibe out their day and splash wtv inside. If they go to work/school they can never find anything in that bag, “I swear I put my pen somewhere here, where tf is itttt”, I think I heard that so much.

Pisces moon: they will get emotionally attached to a bag and the things inside. U guys also r the type to carry good essentials in ur bag. I noticed the amount of sugar pack these people have in their bags is insane. They r the type to take those free complementary sugar/toothpicks/salt packs they give at restaurants. I am very close to a Pisces moon and every single time I sit down with them, they rob half the table. Love y’all tho, cause they will take it, but they will share it w u.

I hope u guys liked this as well! I am planning on doing another astrocartography post soon, so keep an eye out for that! Till next time stay healthy and glowing! xoxo

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗼𝗳𝗳-𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲-𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 ( just pretend i wasn't gone for months guys )

between smartphones, computers, ipads, and screens everywhere, sometimes i feel like i have pudding instead of a brain and i need to engage in three-dimensional activities that don't involve staring at pixels all day, here are some ideas to get in touch with creativity and real word again.

𝟭. drawing and colouring ( 🎨 )

whether it's drawing landscapes, characters from your favorite series or simple doodles, putting the pen on the paper relaxes me instantly. if you are not good at freehand drawing or you're simply lazy, there are many coloring books for adults with mandalas (my personal favorites) or animals/natural landscapes, also online you can find many drawings to color that you can print. in discount stores you can find packs of colored markers at a great price, after all we don't need to be professionals.

𝟮. puzzles and diamond paintings ( 🧩 )

i recently discovered diamond paintings and i'm obsessed with them, on amazon you can find many sets with amazing designs and composing them is really relaxing. having something to focus on for a few hours a day is really essential, puzzles are perfect for this purpose too.

𝟯. reading and writing ( 📚 )

this is a more challenging activity, when we are burnout the last thing we want to do is use our brain, but reading a good novel or writing down a few pages in your journal can distract you from the present moment and give you a bit of a break while still keeping you productive. every second spent reading or writing is a second invested in your personal growth.

𝟰. experiment with outfits and makeup ( ✨ )

i have a lot of clothes but zero outfits, my favorite activity is decluttering my closet, putting away things i don't wear anymore and experimenting with new styles. also sitting at my desk and trying new makeup that's different from my usual eyeliner and mascara, i find it so fun and it's a great way to reconnect with my image when i've spent a month stuck in my room studying.

𝟱. cooking and baking ( 🧁 )

i'm not a good cook and i've burned more cakes than i care to admit, but i have to say it's terribly fun and therapeutic, especially if you're cooking with someone. u think anyone who cooks professionally hates having a second person in the kitchen with them, but when friends make a cake (ugly but tasty) and then eat it together in front of a cup of steaming tea - now, now, that's real therapy.

𝟲. working out, dancing, doing yoga ( 🩰 )

put on some music, dance in your room, follow your workout routine, lay out a mat and do stretching or yoga, connect with your body after being locked in your mind, physical activity is very important to keep your mind fresh ( mens sana in corpore sano ). if you can, go to a park, or an open space, just be careful of excessive stimuli.

these are some of the things i do, feel free to comment on your de-stressing activities.

[springgirlshowers]

Inked Doodles

Summary: Joost loves to draw on you, you love to surprise him.

WC: 1210

A/N: this was caused by this video lmao

Joost loved drawing, it became one of his favorite hobbies. It helped him calm down and relax whenever he was stressed.

He also had a tendency to use you as his canvas. Picking up a small habit of leaving little doodles on your skin.

If you were next to him and he had a pen or marker in his hand, you were at risk of a small doodle being left on your arm, hand, or even your legs sometimes.

The marks ranged from stars and smiley faces to full drawings. Dogs, cats, flowers music notes, a little figure of you or him. Anything he was thinking of at the moment.

It was cuter when he’d leave a small J right under the doodle, watermarking it as his.

Sitting on the couch, body opposite from his with your legs draped over his lap as you read a book. Joost pulled a sharpie out of thin air, you had no idea where he got it from.

You felt the cool drag of the marker along your lower leg. You peeked up from behind your book, seeing him focused as he drew a new figure, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“Joost, you’re gonna give me ink poisoning.” You joked, moving away your leg, accidentally having him draw a line on your leg.

“Aw man now it’s messed up.” He groaned, dramatically pouting.

“It’s fine I can just wash it off later.”

“I wish you wouldn’t wash them off.” He leaned his head back on the couch.

“You know I don’t usually, I love your doodles, but I don’t want a random stripe of sharpie left on my leg.” You giggled, then going back to your book.

Soon however, Joosts last thing he said rung in your mind.

I wish you wouldn’t wash them off.

So what if you didn’t? What if you couldn’t wash one off?

That’s when you began your plan, the next appropriate spot on your arm or leg Joost would draw on, whatever he doodled. You’d go to the tattoo parlor as soon as possible, not telling him about it.

The next time he drew on you was when he was writing down song lyrics for a song he hadn’t named yet, he had to go over to the studio in a few hours.

You laid against him your arms wrapped around his torso while he had one wrapped around your shoulder and the other wrote down lyrics in a spiral notebook.

Soon you watched him stop, removing the marker from the paper and moving it to your arm. Drawing a cartoonish but cute looking dog head with its tongue sticking out on your upper arm. Thankfully not in an awkward spot. The placement was perfect.

“Schweinhund.” You smiled and mumbled when you saw the doodle. He looked at you and you saw how his eyes lit up and the gears start turning in his head.

He crossed a line through the question marks he put as the title above the lyrics, writing schweinhund right next to it.

“There we go, that will be the song title! Thanks liefje.” He pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head.

You were excited to see how amazed he would get at the sight of the dog being tattooed onto you. You knew he wouldn’t be opposed to it. He loves dogs and tattoos, his arms being littered with silly patchwork tattoos.

Once he left for the studio, you made sure he was nowhere near your shared apartment before you left to go to a local trusted tattoo parlor.

You explained your idea and plan to the tattoo artist and they thought it was adorable. They cleaned up and made the line work a bit more neater on the drawing. You kept the tattoo uncolored, just keeping the simple outline on your skin.

The process didn’t take long and once you saw the finished product in the mirror, you were grinning ear to ear. It looked perfect, just like how Joost drew it, just the way you wanted it to.

Nearly skipping down the street in eagerness as you went back to your apartment, hoping Joost would be home soon.

You were a bundle of nervous yet excited nerves as you waited for Joost to come back. You tried to occupy yourself and your mind.

You watched TV, scrolled on your phone, even washed some of the dishes, doing anything to pass the time.

It was 7PM and you were scrolling through instagram on the couch by the time Joost got home, immediately you sat up once you heard the lock on the door click.

The anticipation began again even though you were seconds away from seeing him.

He opened and walked through the door, eyes looking a bit tired and giving you a lazy smile once he saw you.

You waited anxiously on the couch for him to kick off his shoes and walk over.

Soon as he sunk down into the spot next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

“Mmm, studio was so tiring today.” He mumbled tiredly. Placing his chin on your shoulder to look at your face, a confused small smile took over his face at your expression.

“What’s got you so excited looking?” He sat up, arms still around you.

“I got a tattoo.” You smiled and bit down on your bottom lip.

“Really? You never told me you were planning to get one in the past, let me see!” He said happily, straightening up.

You turned a bit, revealing the doodle he made that was now inked permanently into your skin and covered by clingwrap.

His jaw dropped slightly, your expression faltered and you became worried.

Oh no, he doesn’t like it?

He brought a hand up to hold your arm, careful to not apply to much pressure.

“You got my drawing from this morning tattooed?” He looked at you with starry eyes, you nodded.

“You actually got my silly doodle tattooed?” He asked again after darting his eyes between your face and the tattoo. You nodded at his question once again, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah, you said you wished I would never wash off your doodles.” You laughed nervously, “So, do you like it?” You spoke softly, extremely nervous.

He quickly cupped his hands over the sides of your head, pulling you in to peck kisses all over your face. You scrunched your eyes shut as you giggled.

You had your answer now.

He stopped after placing one sweet passionate one on your lips. He moved his hands from the sides of your head to your cheeks.

“I love it! How could I not? Why didn’t you tell me about it?” He let out a breathy laugh.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You shrugged and looked away.

“Of course.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re unpredictable.” He chuckled and shook his head as he looked at your arm again.

“Thank you, liefje. You’re amazing.” He whispered before bringing you in for another sweet kiss, then pulling away to speak again.

“I think it’s time for me to get one for you now.”

[riddlerscumshot]

Push and Pull

NSFW!

contains: simp/guard dog edward, soft dom mc, use of "ma'am", praise, dry humping, naked woman clothed man, multiple orgasms, creampie

words: 6,196

pairing: Edward Nashton x Original Female

The office supply shop I work at is small, but it's conveniently located and has reasonable prices. I see a lot of well dressed adults on their lunch breaks, high school students in the afternoon, and more adults in the evening. None of them usually leave an impression. Well, almost none.

There's this man. He never looks at me unless I'm not looking at him. Sometimes I avoid eye contact on purpose because I know he gets shy when I catch him looking at me. He'll look away, at his feet, or the pens or paper or thumbtacks I'm ringing up. But I like looking at him too. When he's walking down each of the two aisles the shop has, I like to observe. I don't know, I guess it's weird, but I think he's cute, and soft, even though he's always in dark clothes and heavy boots. When I hear his boots rounding the second aisle, I start organizing the front desk, busy work.

When he sets his items on the counter I start scanning and speak to him at the same time.

"I hope you found everything you needed!"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"Looks like it's nine dollars twenty-seven today." I finally look up. His glasses always have at least a couple raindrops on the lenses. He shifts his eyes down, focusing on his wallet as he pulls out a twenty dollar bill and hands it to me.

"Do you work late?" The question just sort of came out of my mouth as I finished counting his change and handed it to him. I'm always thinking it. Wondering why he's always my last customer. I never ask him anything, I never make conversation, I don't do that with any customers. But I wanted to talk to him.

"I-- Yes." He was dropping the coins in his pocket and stuffing the bills in his wallet as I tucked his receipt in his bag. "Thank you." He took the plastic bag by the handles and made his way out of the store, only a little faster than normal.

That was stupid. I could tell he's introverted, I shouldn't have tried to talk to him. I should have left him alone.

He came back.

Four days later, his usual timeline. His boots are louder and faster than last time or all the times before that. He grabs the product he needed in no time at all, rounding the second aisle in a personal record of his. I didn't have time to look busy, he didn't have time to look at me. He let the items he picked out fall onto the counter.

"You're... getting a lot more than usual."

"Yes."

I must have made him uncomfortable last time. I should apologize. Should I? He is buying extra so he can stay away longer, He means to avoid me. Did I really do something wrong?

I hear him clear his throat, and realize I hadn't started ringing him up, I was just staring at the counter full a months worth of office supplies. "I'm sorry. For spacing out, and for invading your privacy last time."

He doesn't speak for a moment, his haul almost ready to be paid for. I take off the price for his electrical tape, as an extra apology.

"I uh-- Don't worry about it," his hand outstretched with forty dollars, ready to pay. He left, with his change and two plastic bags. He was walking slower.

I had been going through the motions for a while now. Every day blending together, all feeling he same. Sitting on the uncomfortable wooden stool behind the cash register. It's still more comfortable than being on my feet for all 9 hours of my shift. Home is calling my name. My shower, my pantry and refrigerator, my bed, all ready to see me and I them. The day can end now and I would be completely fi-- He's back.

When I watched him walk in, he looked back at me, then he ducked into the first aisle. Heavy rubber soles march around, he's in the second aisle now. I can see the top of his head, as our shelves don't go very high, and he is also quite tall. When he swings around the corner, we are looking at each other. His stride long and focused.

Eyes locked together as the man gets closer. I'm sat on my stool the way I always am, but I get this instinct, like I need to move. I'm not sure if I have to go forward or backward. The raindrops are all over his shoulders and hair too, this time. I can see when he's suddenly right in front of me. I didn't realize the it was such heavy weather tonight. I don't say anything at all this time. Even though I always ask if he needs anything else. I read him his total, he pays in cash, I give him his change, he puts it away, he walks out--

He's not walking away.

"My name is Edward. I work late into the evening, yes, and I accept your apology from last time, even though it was not needed and it was my reaction that was out of line."

Seconds passed us by as I figured out was to say back. I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting anything, but especially not this.

"Hello, Edward. My name is Marley. I hope to see you back again soon." I gave him a smile, still looking into his eyes. He really is soft. If only I could hold his cheeks in my hands, and keep looking into his eyes forever.

"Thank you, ma'am," he nods his head as drops his eyes and turns away from me, leaving again.

The next time he came in, he looked cleaner than usual. Haircut, he got a haircut. The same general shape was there, side part and flat texture in all, just trimmed and kept.

I smiled at him when he rounded the corner, and he smiled back, but dropped his eyes right after. Since he wasn't gonna look, I will.

He fidgets with the zipper on his windbreaker while I tuck the last of the printer ink into his bag.

"Your hair looks nice, Edward. Did you get it cut?"

His eyes come up, then go back down. "Uh, yes. Thank you, ma'am."

"Marley."

"Thank you. Marley," Edward's face flushed.

"You're welcome. You got some money for me?" He's sweet. I didn't want him to leave. I want to ask him why he's so shy. I want to listen to him speak. I want to know who he is.

I guess I really don't get out much. Meeting new people is not a regular occurence in my life. So I find myself fixating and thinking about a man that shops at my place of employment twice a week. Is that really bad? A lack of social interaction is considered a negative trait to most people, right? Should I be worried?

Nah, I'm fine.

"Hi Edward," I say to him as he walks in the door.

"Hello, Marley."

I listen to his footsteps. I hear him switch rows, and wait for him to make the last turn. I'm smiling at him before he knows I'm looking. He doesn't look away, but I can tell it's hard for him. It's like he's almost blushing.

"Do you work here every day, Marley?" He asked me a question. He's looking at me too. Not at his printer paper on the counter, not at his shoes, Edward is looking at and talking to me.

"My boss, the owner, works Saturday and Sunday every week." Edward gives a hum of acknowledgement as his total gets higher.

"Enjoy your weekend, then," he takes his paper and leaves. I forgot it was Friday until he reminded me. I felt momentum for the last few minutes of my shift. It feels silly, like an elementary school crush, but Edward is a cute guy. And I find myself looking forward to interactions with him, and feeling rhapsodic after them. I want to get to know him, and let him know me.

Locking up the shop for the night, ready to start my walk home, and I can't stop thinking about his big glasses that sit on his baby face. Traffic noise always irritated me. Honking is moronic and police sirens are piercing. LED lights on every inch of a GCPD vehicle, but every third street light is burnt out on this block. Cars swerving to miss potholes, they would rather hit a pedestrian than change their tire.

Making my way to the first alley I have to cut through on my way home, the pepper spray on my keychain ready, just in case. But I can't stop thinking about how respectful he must be. Always using 'ma'am' and how he came back, ready to resolve any tension. Left and down this block, then cross right and through the second and last alley I need to walk through. Welcome to Gotham. Shed fifteen minutes off your walk home, all for the low risk of your wallet, and your life.

I can't stop thinking about Edward's build, in his bulky clothes and sturdy boots. His stride wide, steps heavy. At my apartment door, the key is entering the lock. It's foolish to be thinking about him so much; and being aware of the foolishness makes him more appealing.

The office supply shop I work at is mundane, the shifts are long, entertainment is sparse. My lack of free time in my personal life due to my long shifts, causes me to spend my free time on the clock daydreaming about a conversation with Edward lasting more than four minutes. I picture him staying so long, he's there while I close the store. He'd walk me home, and we'd get to talk even more.

I wish I could know more about him. He's like a half-open letter sat on the kitchen counter, addressed to someone else. A naturally curious person would want to take a peak, at least the first sentence. But out of respect, no such action is taken. One must wait for the contents to be shared voluntarily, if ever.

Edward's last visit was on Monday, three days ago. He'll most likely be in today. Nothing new will happen. For maybe weeks now, the only things that are different are me knowing his name, and now I ask 'how are you?' and he replies 'well, and you?' before I say 'well' and ring him up.

I could hear the rain and thunder tonight. I can't see it, the window tint combined with the dark evening was an attempt to deceive me. I wouldn't want to make extra journeys in this weather, so I didn't blame Edward when there were ten minutes left of my shift and I still hasn't seen him. I never close early, but I was so sure the store wouldn't see another customer tonight. I stood from my seat behind the counter so I could lock the door before counting the cash register. All but two steps away when the door swings open and I'm inches from being body slammed.

"M-Marley, I apologize," Edward slows himself down just in time to miss me and gently lets the door close behind him. "I was rushing in to dodge the rain, I did not intend to knock into you."

I've never been so close to him, there's always two feet of counter space between us. I can smell him, natural musk, baby powder scented deodorant, and rain water. He's crowded near the door, as I'm stood in his normal path. It takes me just a bit too long to realize I should move and speak.

"It's all right, Edward," I finally say as I take two steps back. "I didn't think I'd see you tonight, I was on my way to lock the door."

Edward was looking at his feet, then the keys in my hand, then his feet again, then toward the first aisle of product. The smile on his face was very small, but I saw it.

"I suppose the rain did try to keep me. Thank you for staying open, ma'am--Marley"

"Of course," I turn to head back behind the counter so he can shop.

He's quick to meet me at the register. I keep my head and eyes down as I help him. I feel him looking at me.

"How are you?"

"Well, and you?"

"...you know, you can tell me more. When I ask that, you can be more honest if you want, or-- not that you're a dishonest person. I mean if you just want to say you're well, that's okay I want you to feel comfortable. I just mean if there is a deeper answer, I'll listen." What is wrong with me.

I look up to see what his face can tell me, but he looks away after I have half a second. The expression I did get to see was mostly a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Noted," Edward spoke, his tone delicate and his new expression soft. It didn't take him that long to answer, but seconds feel longer when your heart is pounding.

Why am I so anxious?

The next round of silence is actually long this time. Edward has a bill between his fingers, waiting for me to say the total and reach out my hand. I contemplate taking too long to bag everything, or maybe miscountung his change and having to start over. But the store closed two minutes ago and I'm sure he has somewhere to be. So top tier service is all I can offer.

"How do you get home?" I have to pause counting his last few pennies for just a moment, then I continue and hand over his change. "I was just-- I hope you don't have to be in the rain for too long."

"Thank you, Edward. I walk home, but it's not too bad with some short cuts." Edward looked in my eyes. His brows were pinched and raised.

"Every night?"

I let myself chuckle. "Yeah, I wear a raincoat."

"Raincoats aren't bulletproof."

"Jesus, Edward."

He cleared his throat. "I apologize, that was blunt. Gotham has more danger than the rain, is what I meant."

"You meant both, that's okay. I also carry pepper spray, and like to kick." This made him grin. Not a soft smile, but he grinned. It made me grin too. It was something about this connection, like we've finally cracked the code and started communicating. I felt like I could keep it going if I wanted to, and he gave me the confidence, so I did. "It would be nice to keep it in my purse for a night, if you have time to walk me home."

And just like that, a man I know nothing about save his name found out where I live.

"Do you live this direction?" I asked when we left the store and crossed the street.

"No."

"How long is it for you?"

"Don't worry right now, ask me when we're closer. I don't mind the walk."

"So it's really out of your way."

"I said not to worry."

"We need to duck through this alleyway," I say, his pace was too fast and we almost passed it. I felt like I was keeping up with him, when I'm the one that knows where we're going.

"Marley, there's barely any light down this way. You take this every night?"

"It's the only other path, unless we walked five extra blocks. It's not so bad." And honestly, this was the only time i've meant that. I don't think I've heard sirens once, and the street lights are brighter tonight, some must have been fixed over the weekend. The rain let up only a bit, but there wasn't anymore lightning and thunder. Edward and I both had our hoods up. He was stoic. He knows this city is rough, he can feel the chill of the night, and he can see the puddles in our way, but he remains as is.

"When you leave the shop, are you going or coming from work?"

"Both," Edward answers, he glances over for a moment, then forward again, his soft smile making an appearance.

"Damn, what kind of schedule do you have?" My tone light, but still expecting an answer.

"I work from home, and make my own hours. It's hard to find a stopping point, so I leave when I'm out of supplies. Or food."

"That's a lot of focus and drive."

"What a nice was of saying obsessive compulsive."

"We need to cut through this one now," I point to the next alley that leads to the street my building in on.

"This one is even darker."

"That's new, the light on the other side went out, I guess." I look behind me as we enter the alley, I always do just to be safe. There was someone, on the other side of the street, smoking a cigarette outside the laundromat. If Edward wasn't with me, I would have been a bit paranoid about them, maybe even broken into a jog, once out of sight, but I followed Edward down the path at his pace. I looked up and over at him, my feet had to move faster than his, but i could still keep up. "Can I know how long your walk is now?"

"I live down the block from your store, around the corner."

"Thank you for walking me, Edward." We've slowed down and then stopped once the whole of the alley was behind us.

"Yes," he cleared his throat. "You're welcome. I would be happy to do it again."

"Sometimes, when you speak, I feel like you're trying to sound as normal as you possibly can. Are you really this collected, or do you censor yourself?" "

The latter."

"I'd love to know what your thoughts are before you turn them into sentences."

"I'd love to know what your hands feel like in mine," Edward blushed as soon as he blurted out what must have been an unfiltered thought. The smile on my face couldn't be slapped away if he tried. He was back to staring at his shoes when I took his right hand in my left, and laced our fingers.

"They're dry and chapped, cold air."

"They're perfect," Edward was looking at our hands together, before he reached for my other. That was the most confident action I've seen him commit, and also the most action I've gotten in three years.

"I wanted to hold you hand the whole time, I thought you would be uncomfortable, when I wanted you to feel safe."

"You're so sweet," he was blushing at my words. Or rather, hearing my words, in a soft tone, while holding my hands.

"Thank you, M-Marley."

"You wanna help me cross the street, Edward?"

"Yes," he drops my right hand but keeps the left. Onward. "I should have your phone number, for the next time my pepper spray feels too heavy."

[You'll be closed soon]

The text message was from Edward, we had exchanged the courteous 'this is me' texts just after he walked me to my door last night, besides that, I had went on with my routine and made it my whole day without communication. I didn't want to be overbearing and too much. Unless he's okay with that.

{Is this you offering to walk me home}

[It's also me wondering why you haven't asked yet]

{Come here}

I was locking the door when I heard Edward's footsteps approaching me from down the sidewalk.

"Hi," I said with a smile, stuffing my keys in my purse so either hand is free for him to take.

"Hi," he looks down, this time it's at my hand, not his feet. I hold it out for him.

"I've been thinking about you all day, and how sweet you are to me. But I'd hate to disturb you too much, so I didn't want to make you walk me home two nights in a row."

"I like it," we made it to the other side of the street before he clarified more. "I like doing things for you."

"Sweetie... I think I just started liking you even more." I got him blushing again. There wasn't even any rain tonight, and it felt nice to not have my hood up while also looking over my shoulder for potential harm as we made the trip home.

"How old are you?"

"...32... Is that--"

"I don't mind, sweetie, I just want to know more about you. I'm 26, so you know," I tried to face him when I spoke, but I kept bumping into him from the side.

"You've always lived here?" He asked me.

"Gotham or my apartment?"

"Both?"

"No."

He giggled.

"Since moving to Gotham, that apartment is where i've been planted. I moved here from Michigan, after I tried to go to college but couldn't decide on a major to declare so when the university kept pushing me, I broke and dropped out and googled 'cheapest cities to live in' and I picked the first one out of state but close enough by car. I had to sell my car my first year here though."

"It's not necessary in the city, to drive. Your walk home would take just as long by car. Plus someone would've stolen your catalytic converter if you'd had it a week longer. Not to mention the city pays no attention to the potholes, faded road lines, or the sewer grates that flood from the rain. Attempting to drive a car here is redundant, costly, and ineffective."

"You were born here," it wasn't a question, I could just tell.

"Yes. I grew up in Gotham Orphanage. It's burnt and abandoned now. I've lived in dorms and then my current apartment since then." "The same apartment since you left college?"

"Cheapest city to live in, right?"

"Touché."

We got to my place too soon. "I want more time with you." Edward smiled.

"Until I am measured, I am not known. Yet how you miss me, when I have flown."

Now it's my turn to smile. "Just because time keeps going doesn't mean you have to. Have some tea with me, Edward." My tone came out a bit more demanding than indented, but it worked in my favor.

"Yes, ma'am."

Edward was following my suit as I hung up my coat and took off my shoes at the front door.

"Come on." I lead him to the kitchen. "Sit." I started the kettle. "Black or green?"

"Black, please."

"Sugar?"

"No, ma'am-- Marley."

"Ma'am." He went silent. I finished prepping our mugs before turning to face him. His blush was different this time. Deeper. He was looking at his hands as they rested in his lap.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Oh sweetie, it's okay. I wasn't mad, just letting you know what I like. Is that okay, that I like that?"

"Yes," it was like he couldn't wait to reply but didn't want to at the same time. "I like it too." He was embarrassed. Oh there's more to this. I took away the distance between us, and he finally looked up at me once I was roughly a foot away. I reached my hand to his cheek, and held his head in my hand as he looked up at me from his position at my kitchen table. I rubbed my thumb back and forth just next to the apple of his cheek, and stared back into his eyes as they whined at me. "What is the most kissable flower?"

"Hmmm," I moved my thumb a tad lower, until it traced his mouth. "These tulips?" Edward sucked in a breath and accidentally let out a whine in the process. He wanted a kiss so bad, I couldn't deprive him. Poor thing.

There was realization and excitement in his eyes went I started to move, then panic, before he closed them in acceptance. It only took him a second or two to kiss back, and follow my lead. And it only took him him a few more seconds before his hands reached out for me, landing on my waist. His kisses were gracious. Sweet and wet and perfect. I can't stand this angle anymore, I need to sit in his lap, or get him up, or--

The hiss of the kettle is what broke me off of him. I turned around quickly, turning off the stove as I moved the pot over to an unused burner.

"My room is this way, Edward." I said as I left the kitchen, my decision made. He stumbled as he tried to catch up, and followed me through my bedroom door. "I want to do a lot more than kiss tonight, Edward. Is that okay?" "

Yes, ma'am."

"It's been a while for me, I hope I'm not being too forward for your liking." I sat down on my bed, and he followed me. "Forward is my liking."

"Good boy..." Edward's face got red and he looked in his lap. "Do you like when people call you that, sweetie?"

"You're the first, but I do like it."

"How experienced are you, Edward?" He was getting embarrassed again.

"I lost my virginity in college. We... hooked up two more times that year. I haven't really met anyone since." He couldn't look at me.

"But you've met me. I guess that means I get you all to myself, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I kissed him quickly before backing further onto the bed, and he followed, chansing a kiss down. I held his face in my hands as he held himself over me, I spread my legs so he could rest comfortably against me. His arms on either side of my head, but not holding up too much weight. I let myself wrap my legs around his waist and our kiss built into something wet and rough. Edward started to whine right around the time I felt his hard on against me. Getting him so worked up is the best foreplay I've ever had.

Edward's hips started rocking into mine and he broke his mouth off mine and dove his lips down my jaw and neck. He tried kissing me, or maybe giving me a hickey, but quickly, we was letting his open mouth pant and whine into me. I hummed, and stroked his hair and back. His head shifted and I felt him trying not to nuzzle into my chest. One of his hands moved, cupping one of my breast.

"You wanna take my shirt off, baby?"

"Yes, please," Edward sounded lost and safe. He sat himself up so I could too. His fingers gripped the hem of my shirt and I raised my arms for him, I heard him take a deep breath when my bare chest was finally on display for him. I was about to see about taking his shirt off next, but he was already returning us to the previous position. Kisses are planted down my neck, collarbones, and chest. Edward's hips resume their movements, and his hand finds my tits again. My hand is suddenly on the back of his head when I feel his lips on my nipple.

"Gooood boy." Edward sucks on my tit harder and he continues to hump his clothed cock against me while I comb my fingers through his hair. He's whimpering and his spit is leaking all over my chest as he switches to give my other nipple attention. He can't decide if he wants to keep humping me and cum, or slow down and ask for guidance, and he's needs to decide soon. He can't keep his mouth on me any longer, because he can't stop panting and moaning for me. "It feels so good, doesn't it? Dry humping me, getting to feel me up?"

"Ye--es ma'am. Ah! Thaank you. AH!" Edward's rutting into my spread legs as I hold him in my arms. Poor thing can barely hold on, let alone hold himself up. I thought I was touch starved, but Edward is proving there is a deeper hunger one can reach. He needs this. Edward can't stop using the friction of our bodies to get off, he is a dehydrated man to water, a dog to a bone.

"You're so perfect, baby. Such a good boy for me." A cry fell from Edward's lips as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, his hips twitchings as his pace hit a brick wall. His hips barely twitch as the rest of his stays still.

"Aww, good job, Edward." He was still whimpering for me, trying to say something but it wasn't coming out right. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Oh, it's okay, sweetie. You'll just have to get me off now, huh?"

Edward shot up. "Yes, ma'am."

I hooked my thumbs under the waist of my pants and slid them off me, my underwear going with them.

"Why don't you take yours off too? You've made a mess of them." Edward's eyes avoid me. "You don't have to, I just want you to be comfortable."

Edward looks back for just a moment, a peace offering. He's smiling and looking away before saying, "Thank you, ma'am. But I think I want them on right now."

"Okay, sweetie," I smile at him and he smiles back.

I take his hand in mine, and lead his fingers to touch me. He just sits and watches as I guide him. He swallows and looks up at me, then down at me, then up again. "You got me that wet, Edward." I dip his middle finger into my hole and push it in and out then back in, then he starts to do it himself. "You can put another in, baby."

Edward slips his ring finger in, pressing in and out at first.

"You can use them to massage me, push them in me and then--" I had to stop talking to breathe instead as Edward got the hang of it quicker than I expected.

"Like that?"

I couldn't tell if he was being cocky or genuine, but i nodded and let out a soft moan anyway. I relaxed my upper body and let myself lean back as I felt Edward's fingers get further than mine ever could. I moved my own hand to my clit, he can work up to multitasking, or apparently not. Edward is swatting my hand away immediately.

"Let me do it." Edward uses his own split and my wetness to glide his fingers in circles on my clit, while stuffing me with his fingers at the same time. I can't remember the last time I was touched like this, if ever. His fingers fit just right. He curled them inside me, pressed them against me, and pumped them into me. My clit still getting all it needed.

"Fuck, baby. Good job," My speech is breathy. I watch Edward watch me. He eyes taking in my body, my cunt, my face and the way my eyebrows hike up when he gets his fingers even deeper.

"It feels good?"

"Yes, Eddie, baby, fuck. Just like this. I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy getting me-- OFF!" Edward was moving both hands faster, I didn't tell him I needed him too, but I didn't even realize I needed him to until he did. The new speed added a roughness to the fingers inside me. It's like he's just finished reading my body, cover to cover. He knows what I know before I know it. I can't find much more in myself but moans and nods and variations of "Good job," and "Thank you," before my orgasm starts to creep up.

"Yes! Yes baby. God, you're gonna make me cum," Edward maintained his pace, even as my hips started to buck, like they were trying to meet his pattern but failing. Even as my moans hiked in pitch and volume, fingers gripping at the bedsheets and shoulders, And even as I quieted down, chest still heaving and eyes closed.

"Eddie!" I tapped his hands with mine, and that's when his fingers finally left me. I was trying to find more breath and words when Edward moved to kiss me. His movements were easy, disciplined. I'm so pleased to have been right when I pictured his lips as soft and sweet. Hands were all over me, unsure of where to stay, or trying to memorize all of me in case this is a dream. Fingertips dusting over my bare thighs, flowing down to my knees before backtracking all the way up to my hips. If my body was a sea, he's a sailor, exploring how far I really reach. Hands on my shoulders, my arms, I thought he might hold my hands as we continue to kiss but then his hands move again along with his lips. Trails of kisses are dropped across my cheeks, my jaw, and my throat. I feel taken but not captive. Held.

"I'm hard again." Edward's flat tone grounded me, but otherwise didn't bother me. Straightforward, he had something to say, and saw no need to ease into the conversation when precise language did the trick.

"I think you'll have to fuck me then, Eddie."

"...Yes, ma'am." Unsure of himself, Edward sat up slowly, looking at my face before breaking the gaze and choosing to look at his lap instead. Fully clothed, Edward was sat on his own legs, between mine that have been spread open for him all night.

"You can keep them on, sweetie." I said to him as I sat up. I reach for the button and zipper on his bulky, canvas pants. His eyes are focused on my hands as I carefully undo his pants. "I'm just gonna pull it out, you don't have to take anything off if that makes you feel comfortable." There was a mess in his underwear waiting for me, his cock covered in his previous load and already leaking precum for the next. I pump my hand over his dick a few times, though he really didn't need it. I reach my free hand up to the back of his neck so I can bring him with me when I lay back down. His cock so close to me at last, but still not inside me.

"Put it in, baby. I wanna know what your pretty cock feels like inside me."

A yelp of excitement and nerves comes from Edward as he positions himself against my hole, his swollen and pink tip begging to know what I feel like.

"Wait I don't-- do you have--"

"I'm on birth control, Eddie."

Edward's smile is back and he presses his cock against my hole, finally giving the push it needs to sink into me, and all the way down. Slowly, his cock pulls almost out, and another gradual plunge back in. His whines start on his third or fourth thrust, which is when he picks up speed, if only a little. Careful and comfortable, Edward gets himself deeper into me, a proper fuck soon enough. I lift my legs lift a bit more, helping his tip reach even further than his fingers did. A mutual "Oh, fuck..." shared between us. Edward had a new gravitational pull. He wasn't meant to fall to the Earth, he was meant to fall to me. Each thrust just an unfortunate separation followed by the inevitable destiny of his dedication to me.

"You were made for me, Edward."

All he could muster was a moan, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried so hard not to come too fast. As he went on, though, he found out his best try wasn't enough. His whines and whimpers and pants just fuel for my euphoria. Little breaths and repeated "ah, ah, ah"s as he built himself up and fucked me deep. His once fixed pace getting faster when his voice got louder. His shoulders shaking with his jagged breathing.

"I know, I know."

"Please, please, please," his words match his thrust, showing me the punctuation.

"Please?"

"Please, ma'am. Please, I need-- ah!" He's lost any tempo he once had, still fucking me deep, fast, long, but unable to control much more.

"You need to cum, Eddie? You need to cum in me?" He nods quick and plenty.

"Use your words, come on."

"I'm gonna-- I need to cum. Let me cum in you please-- fuck! Your pussy feels so good around me. So fucking perfect. Please ma'am please say I was good enough please. Please let me cum for you please."

"What a good boy, so desperate. You fucked me so good. Show me how good it feels. Cum for me, Edward."

His head drops into my neck, panting as he lets go inside of me, warm and wet, serene and satiated.

[luxsky]

Acotar characters; "you're staring" "you're beautiful"

Summary: ACOTAR characters + Twitter trend "you're staring" "you're beautiful"

Warnings: Moderately inaccurate political economy information, I think that's it (let me know if I missed anything)

Author's Note: Okay, I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you enjoy!

Rhysand

Ruling a court comes with various responsibilities, including dealing with accounting. Deciding how much money goes into each aspect, where there will be investments or cuts, handling the demand for buying and selling prices, export profits, and import expenses – these are the matters a High Lord has to deal with.

And Rhysand hates it; he dislikes mathematics, numbers, and especially thinking about all the headaches that economics brings him. That's why, when we got married and he made me his High Lady to reign by his side, I volunteered to handle that part – the part he disliked but I enjoyed.

So, while Rhysand deals with the political aspects that don't interest me, I handle the ones that don't interest him. We often work together, despite having separate offices. We also have a shared one because, even though we sometimes prefer working alone, most of the time, we choose to work together, not only to spend time together but also to enjoy each other's company and deal with any situation requiring the other's opinion.

"I think we should invest more in the export of artistic materials," I say to him, standing on the plush rug in the office, papers scattered on the floor from where I was previously sitting. I've analyzed these two specific papers in my hands for several minutes, pacing back and forth until reaching this conclusion.

"Well, we could do that, but the demand would increase, and we'd have to invest in structures for mass production of materials," he murmurs in response, not lifting his head from his stack of papers, filled mostly with reports from spies and armies.

"Urgh, okay, let me look into that," I crouch down, sitting on my heels as I shuffle through the scattered papers on the floor, searching for specific ones.

I make a satisfied noise when I find what I need, also grabbing a pen and starting to scribble some calculations and values on a blank sheet. Information here, consequences there, trying to find the best way to expand the Night Court's export market.

Rhys's pen stops, and I glimpse a movement from the corner of my eye, but I'm too focused on what I'm writing. I search for another paper, Mother, I should start organizing myself better. I lean to reach it, using the values there to compare with the ones I noted down, another paper comes to my hand, and my head is filled with numbers, values, and variations.

At some point, my concentration begins to wane because I feel eyes piercing my side. Perhaps my partner is trying to hint that my murmurs are bothering him, or maybe he wants to say something and is waiting for the right moment.

I put the papers back on the floor and look at him. Contrary to what I imagined, he's leaning back in his chair, a smirk on his lips, and his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't look away or say anything, so I make a face and go back to shuffling my papers, still feeling the burn of his gaze on me.

"Rhysand, love, you're staring," I murmur, starting to stack the papers I had spread all over the floor, attempting a fake organization. I hear the sound of his chair scraping on the floor, and I look up to see him in front of me, crouching to be at the same height as me.

The smile on his face grew. "You're beautiful, dear, especially when dealing with all this math," he murmurs, and his hands cup my cheeks, his thumb caressing my face.

"Well, someone has to do the hard work, don't they?" I reply playfully, mirroring his smile. Rhysand leans in, kissing my lips, then my nose, forehead, and finally my cheeks. He continues planting various kisses all over my face, and I'm laughing by the end when he pulls away, looking at me with a loving gaze.

My laughter slowly fades, but the smile remains on my face. "You're my clever and beautiful little thing, dear," he murmurs, planting a final, very slow kiss on my forehead.

Cassian

Waking up early is one of the things highlighted on my list of things I hate and prefer not to do. My routine has always been organized with the goal of waking up as late as possible without disrupting my responsibilities.

And this routine worked perfectly until Cassian and I started living together, and he decided that my routine was somewhat unhealthy, insisting that I should start the day with him. The problem is, my beloved partner has a bizarre predisposition to wake up very easily before the sun even thinks about rising. And he doesn't rest until he wakes me up too.

"Come on, babe, we still need to have breakfast before we start training," his voice muffled as my face is buried under two pillows and protected by a thick blanket. "If you don't get up soon, we'll be late."

"Cassian, how could we be late if the sun hasn't even woken up yet?" Irritation in my voice is palpable, but perhaps the pillows somehow contained that annoyance in their feathers because the Illyrian has the audacity to laugh, a loud laughter that comes from the depths of his chest.

Before I could curse him with every name I know, my blanket is abruptly pulled off my body. As I cling to the pillows, trying to prevent him from taking them away, I feel the mattress shifting and his weight being placed on me. Peeking under the pillow, his forearms are bracing on either side of my body, preventing his entire weight from resting on me. His wings are spread, and a few strands of his hair escape from the bun.

"Are you going to get up, or do I have to take these pillows away too?" His voice is pure amusement, and I'm sure he's wearing that typical smirk of his.

With a very dissatisfied sigh, I push the pillows up, removing them from my face. As I suspected, his smile is evident on his lips, Cassian's face hovering above mine, very close.

I make a face and poke his cheek with my finger. "You really have no fear of death, do you?" Despite my words, the irritation of being woken up so early is set aside for a moment. Cassian's face so close to mine erases any resentment I could have for him being a morning person.

"Not when it's this beautiful," his hand moves, pushing strands of hair away from my face, his features softening. His eyes travel across the expanse of my face, and he's so focused on tracing the contours of my cheeks with his finger that he doesn't realize he's been doing it for a few minutes.

"You're staring, General," I murmur, a playful smile forming on my lips as I see his eyes darken with the title used. His finger doesn't stop caressing my cheek, but his face descends a bit, his lips hovering a few inches from mine.

He whispers to me, his breath mixing with mine, "With a sight like this? You can't blame me." He doesn't wait a second after finishing the sentence to press our lips together, a warm and desire-filled kiss.

My hands grab his hair, and the bun easily unravels as I grip the strands, his mouth dancing over mine as our tongues connect and dance. When he breaks the kiss, it's only because we need to breathe, but he plants soft and quick kisses while stabilizing his breath, then descending and leaving a trail of wet kisses on my neck.

I bring his face up, looking into his eyes, the previous amusement replaced by lust. My arched eyebrow and mischievous smile draw his eyes back to my lips. Before he can kiss me again, I speak.

"I thought we were going to be late for training if I didn't get up soon." The amusement in my voice prompts an eye roll from him in response.

"Screw the training; my only commitment now is with your body." And his lips resume leaving trails of kisses, descending from my neck to my collarbone. Laughter escapes me as his wife reverberates throughout the room, Cassian focusing on kissing me everywhere.

Azriel

Azriel's lips passionately met mine, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer. I'm a complete mess; one of my hands supports me on his arm, while the other grabs his hair. My feet barely touch the ground, striving for height to reach his lips. His warm mouth against mine, our tongues entwining, he pulls back just enough to capture my lower lip between his teeth, causing delightful shivers.

His hand moves up to my neck; his thumb rests on my chin, tilting my face upward. His lips trail down, planting a kiss on my jaw and then on my neck. He lightly bites and kisses the spot that never fails to elicit sighs from me.

As he pulls away, I open my eyes, meeting his brown, sparkling eyes admiring my face. His hands cup my cheeks, a small smile playing on his lips. My lip throbs, feeling swollen, yet Azriel gazes at me with such devotion that all I can do is smile back, my heart racing as if it's the first time he's touched me this way. It isn't, but my body seems to forget that in the moment.

Azriel continues watching me, but my attention is momentarily diverted as a bright flash catches my peripheral vision. I turn my head, his hand moving from my cheek to hold mine as I observe stars falling from the sky. They start timidly, but as seconds pass, more appear, the sky glowing with the trails they leave behind.

I love this. I love the starfall, sharing the moment with my partner, and more than that, I love how he still hasn't taken his eyes off me, even though the brilliant sky is far more beautiful and interesting to watch.

"You're staring," I murmur, my eyes still fixed on the sky. Azriel wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind, his wings blocking the wind around us. He places a gentle kiss on the top of my head, then lowers his lips to my ear, whispering in response.

"You're so beautiful; it's hard not to look, my love." His voice in that tone is incredibly sensual, and the shadows dancing on my arms as I hold onto his bring a delightful sensation.

I don't respond with words; instead, I send all the love and warmth I can through the golden bond that connects us. My eyes remain fixed on the stars detaching from the sky above us, but I'm sure he's still trying to study any detail he hasn't memorized yet, even with our closeness.

Feyre

The sun warming my skin is a very welcome sensation, the fabric of the sheet that Feyre and I spread on the grass earlier is a bit disheveled, but I don't mind.

The comfortable silence we're in is filled with occasional sounds of pages turning in my book and the strokes Freyre makes on her canvas. I lie on my stomach, reading the new suspense novel my lovely partner gifted me a few days ago. The story is at a particularly tense point, a crucial revelation is imminent, and I can feel it.

This may have been one of the best ideas Feyre had in the last month. She was recently inspired to paint landscapes and planned an outdoor day. With all the shared love, she asked if I wanted to accompany her. We didn't go far, choosing a spot near the Sidra River. We arrived in the early afternoon and planned to stay until the sun gave way to the moon.

Despite wanting to continue reading, Feyre's gaze distracts me. Giving up on reading, I sit up, looking at her. From my angle, I can't see what she's painting very well, but the paints are still scattered around us, and she's still holding the brush, so I deduce she hasn't finished the painting.

"Baby, you're staring," I stretch, trying to see what she's painting, curious to see her progress, but she quickly pulls the canvas away from my view. The warmth that fills her cheeks as she looks away from me gives me a hint as to why she was staring at me.

A mischievous smile forms on my lips. I lean forward, innocently running the tip of my nail on her bare leg. "You know, when you said you wanted to paint the landscape, I didn't think you were referring to me."

She chuckles at the teasing, rolling her eyes as she mumbles something. She places the canvas in one of the paints, away from my sight, and turns to me, her hand reaching to grab mine. Her finger is smeared with paint, and as she runs it over me, I get stained with the hue she was using, but I don't complain.

"You're too beautiful; it's hard to capture you in a painting," she confesses to me. Her brown eyes meet mine, her freckles reflecting the sunlight and seeming to glow. It's ironic for Feyre to say this about me; the beauty she carries is otherworldly, yet I am the one challenging to be captured in paints.

"Pfft, you can turn anything into the most beautiful art, Fey," I roll my eyes at her, her hand drawing a pattern on mine gently. "But I can be your muse whenever you want. I don't mind how long it takes for you to finish your painting."

She smiles at my response. Her other hand, which previously held the brush, holds my face tenderly, and she stares at me for a few more seconds in silence, studying and analyzing my face, imprinting the details with her eyes and fingertips. When she finishes, she goes back to grab the canvas and the brush, speaking excitedly.

"Alright then, get into a comfortable position. This will probably take some time," she starts mixing colors and dipping them into the brush as I lean back, sitting in a more comfortable way.

When she resumes painting, I'm still laughing, and as the sun sets, giving way to the moon, she remains focused, alternating her gaze between me and the canvas, until she completes her masterpiece.

Nesta

In this, Nesta and I have developed a small tradition in our relationship. At least once a month, we go to any bookstore we choose at the moment, even if we don't plan to buy any books or have only bought a few days ago. We simply go, wander around the store, and talk – sometimes we browse through books on the shelves, other times we just observe. It doesn't matter much what we do in the bookstore; we just go.

That's why the day after I return from a political trip to the Day Court, Nesta wakes me up early. We have breakfast together, then leisurely stroll to a new bookstore that opened while I was away. The place is beautiful and cozy, the smell of books is relaxing, and Nesta's hand in mine brings a sense of comfort. We are almost at the back of the bookstore, in the erotic books section, when one of the covers catches my attention.

"Oh! Helion had this book in his library; I read it while I was there." I release Nesta's hand to pick up the book. The cover is as discreet as the title; at first glance, nothing would indicate the content inside this book, except for the category it belongs to.

I flip through the book, reading some random passages and recalling the story. A laugh escapes my throat as I turn to Nesta and show her one of the excerpts. "Look at this."

Nesta's eyebrow arches as she reads the passage I showed her. A quieter laugh, compared to mine, also escapes her, and her eyes meet mine as she says, "Well, it's a... uninteresting scene."

I nod, agreeing with her, and turn back to the shelf, running my finger over the covers. "I really didn't expect that while reading, although it makes sense when compared to the rest of the story." Then I briefly start recounting the story – how the main couple faced various challenges when together but always had a significant tension between them.

I pick up another book, turning the cover and reading its summary. It seems interesting. "Look, Nes, it's from that new author you were interested in. The story sounds good; it's about..."

When I turn to show her the book I found, she still has the previous book in her hands, open to the page I handed her. Her eyes stare at me with an affectionate gaze, causing my cheeks to flush with the attention she gives me, and I release a nervous giggle.

"Darling, you're staring at me," I murmur, shyness covering my voice. This seems to snap Nesta out of the trance she was in because she blinks, very slowly, and a mischievous smile forms on her lips – a smile that sends shivers down my spine.

She closes the book in her hands, takes the one in mine, and puts both back on the shelf, pulling me close to her. "You look too beautiful when you talk about the books you like," she murmurs, her lips nearing mine.

Her eyes burn with mischief, her hand moves up to my nape, pulling me closer, our lips inches apart. "Tell me more about the book, about all the books you read while you were away," her lips meet mine in the next moment.

Morrigan

Morrigan's dissatisfied murmurs filled my ears as I watched her argue with herself through the vanity mirror about the three dresses scattered on the bed. Smiling at her indecision, I resumed applying makeup, finishing the products on my eyes and cheeks, adding color and life to my face.

Digging into Mor's vanity drawer, I searched for a lipstick to complement the outfit I chose for the night. Once I found the perfect shade, I glanced back at the mirror.

Swiftly applying the lipstick, I examined my face—it was perfect and would be even more so when I put on the golden earring that matched Mor's. With that thought, I sought her reflection and found her staring at me through the mirror with a puzzled look, still undecided on her choice. Turning to face her, still seated on the stool, I raised my eyebrows at her pout, and she scrutinized me with puppy-dog eyes.

"You're staring, babe," I stood up, approaching the bed with the intention of helping her choose her outfit but was interrupted when she pulled me close, pressing her body against mine. Her eyes descended to the lips I had just painted, now adorned with a mischievous smile.

"You're beautiful; I can't help but look," I playfully rolled my eyes, accustomed to her flattery.

She brushed a strand of my hair back, clearing it from my face, and leaned forward, sealing our lips. I got lost in the kiss, engulfed in the passion she radiated. Our mouths moved in harmony; my hand held her face, preventing her from pulling away. We only broke the kiss because we needed air. As her lips moved far enough from mine for coherent thought, I noticed the color on hers.

She furrowed her brows, confused by my exasperated sigh. When I quickly distanced myself and walked back to the vanity, she became even more perplexed. Until I looked at myself in the mirror and realized the chaos my face had become—lipstick smeared everywhere, ruining the makeup I had done.

I groaned and turned to her, attempting to hide a laugh behind her fist, "Morrigan," I whined, "now I have to clean up and redo it."

She approached again, her hands running up my arms and stopping at the base of my neck, her fingertips playing with my hair. "Well, at least I'll have more time to decide what to wear," she chuckled loudly as I huffed indignantly.

[luvrodite]

BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ the first time jason kisses you he's bloody and bruised, and you can't find him more attractive for it

cw: injury, blood, mentioned harassment (not of the reader)

blank blogs DNI you will be blocked

The first time Jason kisses you, he’s bloody and standing underneath a streetlight outside the bar he’s just been kicked out of. You’re utterly enamoured.

It is a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve just submitted your last midterm when the text comes through. The outline of his name on your phone sends a thrill down your spine, and you can’t help the curl of excitement. 

J-A-S-O-N. 

You trace your eyes over the letters, the blank contact photo doing little to curb the butterflies. They’re no less stronger than when he’d asked you for your number, a warm afternoon after class when the both of you had found your way to the your usual table in the library. You recall the reason he’d used, recall the slant of his mouth as he’d talked, the clutch of his bag in his fingers, the way the light had bent through the window and caught the dust floating above the table. You recall suddenly warm palms, fingertips hot to the touch as you saved his number when the first message had come through. 

>> come out tonight?

You frown.

While it’s true that since the beginning of the semester you’ve gotten to know Jason better and as a not entirely unpleasant consequence, been better about hiding away, you’re still tired from the back to back assignments you’ve had to turn in. You’d much rather turn in for the weekend. 

And yet, when it comes to the handsome boy you’d met in your literature class last semester, you find it hard to say no. You want to hang out with him so badly sometimes it feels embarrassing. You wonder if it’s obvious how you both soak up his attention and shy away from it. Even months later, you find yourself bashful around him.

As if sensing your hesitation, another two messages come through almost immediately, in rapid succession.

>> it’ll be fun

>> dinner’s on me btw

You chew your lip, staring down at the message. 

<< i'm kind of tired idk

<< where do you wanna go

The text bubble appears as you begin to pack your things, sweeping papers off your desk and into a neat pile, collecting cluttered pens and highlighters. The last week has turned your bedroom into something akin to a disaster site, clothes strewn everywhere and sheets rumpled. You bite back a groan at the thought of the cleaning you’ll have to do. 

>> i know a place like ten minutes away from campus

>> drinks after?

<< presumptuous

<< i haven't even agreed

>> ok so agree !

>> it’ll be a good time

You huff out a laugh at his tone, typing out a response.

<< who else is going?

>> just you and me kid

>> be excited

>> i’ll drop you home if you wanna leave after dinner

In the bathroom now, tidying the mess of skin and hair products, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You tilt your head, and your reflection does too, as if to say, well? Will you?

You text him your response.

<< ok when should i meet you?

<< send me the address

Jason is lingering outside the restaurant when you walk up, and you take a moment to admire him as you approach, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, relaxed. His hair looks wet, and orange light washes over him where he stands beneath an awning, a sky of darkening blue behind him. As if sensing your approach, he turns his head from where he’s been looking at something across the street and his eyes light up in recognition. Your name tumbles from his lips and he takes a step forward as you cross the distance.

“Hey,” he greets you, smiling down at you. “You made it.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you murmur. His lips stretch into a wider grin and you catch a glimpse of his canines, wolf sharp, a shiver curling down your spine at the sight.

“Guess you did. I’m glad. Come on,” he says, jerking his chin and reaching for the door, letting you enter first. “I think you’ll like this place.”

His shirt brushes against your back, and you swallowed by the sheer size of him, tall and broad shouldered, but it feels reassuring to have him there, especially as the hostess makes eye contact with you and he smoothly coordinates everything. His hand bumps against your elbow as she leads you both to a table and he murmurs out an apology at the same time you do, habitually, shooting you a funny look when he hears you, like he’s amused.

You’re seated across from him at a table so small his knees bump against yours beneath the table and he laughs a little when you say sorry once again. It isn’t the first time you’ve hung out with him, or the first time you’ve gotten food together–a semester has come and gone since your meeting him, and now the fall semester has started up again, but he has a way of short-circuiting your system, earnest and straightforward and far prettier than he has any right to be. You aren’t used to boys like him–though a voice in your head suggests that there isn’t anyone else like him. 

You offer him a small smile when he laughs. 

“Can’t believe they stuck us here,” he says to you, dropping his voice as a waiter passes your table. You look over to where a fair few tables far larger than yours remain unoccupied, and grimace in sympathy. “At least the food is good.”

You look up from the menu, sparing him a glance. He’s all rounded edges and sweeter looking in the soft light. You look back down.

“You’ve been here before?” you ask, feeling silly for the question but he nods.

“My brother took me, when I first moved out here,” he says, scratching idly at his cheek. Teal eyes skim the plastic menu. “We come here whenever he comes to visit.”

“Older brother?” you guess and he hums. 

“Dick,” he says, and his eyes widen when you stare at him. “His name, I mean. That’s his name…Richard, but he goes by..yeah.”

“Oh,” you laugh, as your pulse flutters under your skin. “Bet he gets a lot of flack for that.”

“You have no idea,” he snorts, launching into a story that has you covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

Somehow, dinner flies by faster than you think it would, a blur of stories from both your childhood and his. Jason asks questions and you don’t feel as though you’ve been put on the spot, pleasantly warm as you answer through your own laughter. The bubbles from your drink linger and pop on your tongue, and there’s a flush in your face that you blame wholly on him and his teal eyes, attentive and animated as he describes his family.

The both of you are pushing out of the door after an argument about splitting the bill (“I said I would pay, get lost!” and “I didn’t even agree to that!”) that had left you pouting and Jason smug. The rush of air that greets you is cool against your heated cheeks, and you smile to yourself as the both of you step out into the street.

“So?” Jason asks and you turn to him. “Was I right? It was good, huh?”

And he looks so pleased with himself that even if you hadn’t enjoyed a bit of it, you wouldn’t have it in you to tell  him.

“It was,” you agree and his smile grows broader.

You lapse in conversation for a moment, and a breeze ruffles his hair on its way through the lit street. It’s grown fairly busier as night falls, crowds of people out to enjoy their weekend, and you step closer to Jason as a particularly large group passes you, falling into step by his side to avoid bumping into them.

“So..home?” he asks, tentative.

“I think so.” You chew the bottom of your lip. “I got up early to get in the finishing touches on my midterm.”

His eyes go soft, almost immeasurably fond, as he gazes down at you. “Of course you did. Alright, c’mon, then. Let’s get you home.”

He takes your hand gently, fingers circling your wrist loosely and guiding you down the busy street. You find yourself appreciative of this, even as the butterflies erupt anew in your stomach at the touch, his body carving a path in the flow of foot traffic that you can fall into easily without worry of getting lost. 

The both of you walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling in the gaps around you. You admire the outline of Jason’s profile in front of you, light from the cars and storefronts washing over the both of you and throwing him into sharp technicolour focus in front of you. You feel a little dizzy at the sight of it, and looking down to where your hands join only worsens it, rendering you soft and pliant in his hold, tracing his footsteps with your own. 

And then, all of a sudden, you’re coming to a halt in front of a parking lot next to a bar, nearly colliding with his back. You blink, equal parts sleepy and stunned, peering over his shoulder where he’s stiffened up. 

“What?” you ask. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and turns around to pass you a set of keys. You frown, confused, following his finger when he points to an old, red car just a few feet away.

“That’s my car, I’m just gonna go check on something over there,” he says, tipping his head back to gesture to the bar. “Can you get it started for me? I won’t be long.”

“Is everything okay?” you ask, and now you’re the one holding his wrist as he turns, taking a half step after him. He looks back at you, and his mouth relaxes, offering you a reassuring nod.

“‘S fine, sweetheart,” he assures, pushing you gently in the direction of his car. “Be back in a sec.”

But curiosity roots you to the pavement where you stand, and you watch as he walks to the entrance of the bar, where murky yellow light spills out onto the walkway. Several bench tables have been pushed together on the outer side of the path, smaller tables with high stool chairs pressed against the exterior wall of the establishment. It’s fairly empty outside, all the patrons seeking shelter from the chilly weather inside and you step a little closer to see when Jason, shoulders set like a man on a mission, crosses the threshold and disappears into the building.

You creep a little closer, keys clutched in your fingers, until you can get a look through the windows. They’re a little stained, but you find Jason eventually, crowding close to a pool table where a boy around your age is leaning down, cue stick pointed against green felt. His back is to the window, but you watch the guy pause and straighten up, annoyance clear on his face even as he tries to cover it up with a smile you don’t think you like too much, self-assured and a little mean. There isn’t any friendliness in it. 

Outside, the wind begins to pick up and you’re wondering whether you should just return to the car–every bad thing in the movies happens because people can’t mind their own business–when suddenly, so fast you almost miss it, his fist flies out and knocks right into Jason. You jump in surprise, a hand flying to your mouth to muffle the startled yell that slips out. 

But Jason is seemingly unphased, and you catch a glimpse of blood in his mouth as he– smiles. It’s nothing like the smiles you’ve ever seen, wild and a little feral as he lunges forward, knuckles slamming against the boy’s cheek and sending him sprawling across the tabletop. He just gets that hit in before he’s being restrained and hauled back to the door, shoved across the threshold with no regard for gentleness. He stumbles, and that grin is still curving his mouth up when he looks up, wolfish, savage, and–it stutters when he meets your eyes.

You stare back, wide eyed at the sight of him. His keys hang limply in your hand, forgotten in favour of their owner whose nose has begun to bleed down his chin, drippin onto the collar of his shirt and staining it crimson. 

“I–thought I told you to wait in the car,” he says weakly, at last. 

“What was that?” you ask, dazed, ignoring him. You look between him and the windows of the bar, where you can still see the other boy, holding a tea towel to his split cheek. 

His lips part, and he looks away as if to search for an answer he does not have. Like a magnet, your gaze flicks down. You swallow at the smear of red that settles above his cupid’s bow, dark, almost black as the shadows on his face stretch.

“Jason.” You stress his name. He grimaces.

“I didnt-” he breaks off, letting out a loud sigh. “I knew him, okay? Didn’t do that for no reason.”

You wait, sensing the oncoming explanation. By his side, you spot the reddening skin of his knuckles, looking at home amongst the pale, faded scars.

“He’s a dick,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It seems almost shy, the way his fingers press against his lips as he tells you the truth. “He’s in one of my classes and he was giving one of the other guys a hard time ‘cause..” 

His face hardens and you fear he’s about to go back into the bar. You hedge a step forward to clutch his sleeve. He shakes his head. You don’t let go. “Anyway, he had it coming. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. He was bothering some girl in there too, when I saw him…piece of shit.”

Affection blooms between your ribs so suddenly it leaves you breathless, and you stare up at him, stunned.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he blows out a breath, watching you carefully. 

“I thought you’d hit him harder,” you blurt out, and his eyes widen. He lets out a tired laugh, wincing in between snickers.

“Don’t think you’re s’posed to agree with me, baby,” he murmurs, drawing closer. You’ve probably stretched his sleeve out with your grip, but you make no move to let go. Baby. It fits in his mouth, belongs to him, even. He’s claimed it now. 

“Right,” you breathe out, blinking up at his face. The air goes still, the undercurrents of adrenaline re-igniting with the trip of your voice over the five letter word. There is no admonishment in your tone, and teal eyes turn onyx in half a breath, lashes fluttering as he looks at you. “Violence…is bad..”

His eyes crease, amused, but he’s barely moving, and his voice comes out a little strangled. “Word of advice, don’t ever go into politics.”

“You don’t believe me?” you joke quietly and he huffs out a laugh. Once more, your gaze snags on the glimpse of his canines, peeking from below his lips, pointed and shiny.

You can smell the blood on him when he takes a step closer, the toes of his sneakers scuffing against yours. You look at him clearly, awash with the yellow light of the street, bloody and bruising. He’s lucky that he isn’t due back on campus for another two weeks, but you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter either way–he’s no less attractive to you. It should concern you that you find blood a good look on him, or that the savagery in his smile only made your heart beat a little faster, but you can only stare through half lidded eyes at him.

Somewhere down the road, the roar of an engine filters through the air, but you pay it little attention when he draws closer, closer, closer. 

You aren’t sure who moves first, only that Jason kisses you for the first time underneath that streetlight, and the taste of copper in your mouth only presses you closer into him, clutching his sleeve and hoping it leaves as much of a mark that he’s left on you. 

i hope this made u guys feel as insane reading it as it made me writing it (and trying to post it, but for a different reason). something about a man covered in his own blood...

[theressaicon]

✩•.My cute little psycho.•✩

(yb Peter x (f) reader)

☆.。.：*・゜☆.。.：*・゜☆

Another Tuesday of me working at the local coffee shop. Could be better, could be worse, I always say. It keeps me going. My friend T/K keeps me company here. We've been friends for some time now and I can't imagine how my life would look like without him. He was the first one to take the first step. We eventually started to talk more and more, building great friendship between us as coworkers. It's good to have someone by your side when costumers can be quite rude. Somehow we always tries to make fun of it.

This day was pretty busy at the shop. High temperature from the sun shining outside made everyone sweat and me with T/K as well. Of course that almost no one ordered a hot coffee, that would be a suicide in this weather. Instead people wanted milkshakes, lemonades and cold stuff like that.

Mine and T/Ks part of the job was to take orders from costumers and deliver their products to them. The rest of the people working here were hidden at the back, making desserts, drinks and other stuff we sell. Lucky them, there was air conditioning in the back, so they didn't sweat there like we did. Sometimes T/K and I also went to the back to cool off, but today there was almost no time for that.

It gave us both a shock when we saw a guy walking into the store wearing a dark blue t-shirt with a black sleeveless hooded sweatshirt. I was terribly hot for him. I was almost unable to breathe from the heat in my light blouse and work apron. There was no way he could be cold! I exchanged glances with T/K and went to attend to the customers at the register while T/K went to serve the veiled man.

After a while he came back saying that the man had not yet chosen what he wanted. I shrugged it off and both of us went back to work. In two minutes he went again to try to ask what the guy would like. Just like before, no answer from him. So I offered to try to serve him myself.

As soon as I got to his table, he took off his hood and looked up. The fact that he was bald didn't scare me in any way, I calmly and smilingly asked if he knew what to order now. „Strawberry milkshake, please." he spoke quietly, maybe even shyly. „Right away, sir." I wrote his order down and left. T/K watched me with his mouth open as I returned with the order. „Ain't no way." He said with a look of annoyance. It made me chuckle. „Did you see that?! He said what he wanted to you without hesitation-" „Well I guess I am much more trustworthy and certainly nicer." I teased him playfully. „Yeah right, miss trustworthy." he rolled his eyes and kept doing what he was doing.

I made the decision that I would bring him the milkshake myself too. When he finished it, he paid and left me a tip before he left. It was my first tip of the week, which made me truly happy. But by the end of the day, I was still asking myself why he was wearing such warm clothes in this terribly hot weather.

☆.。.：*・゜☆.。.：*・゜☆

Another hot day at work, sweating like crazy and slightly getting pissed off by irritating people. Me and T/K were passing out from the everyday heat... Yet there was this guy in a sleeveless hoodie who seemed unbothered. As he sat down to his table like yesterday, I made a bet with T/K, that he's not gonna be able to serve him again. He accepted the bet, probably out of boredom, and went to the bald customer. Exactly as I expected, T/K returned defeated and without his order. "Watch and learn from the master," I said and confidently left.

„Good afternoon, sir. What will it be today?" I took out a pen with a paper to write on. „Good afternoon miss, I would love to order another strawberry milkshake." a warm smile appeared on his face while he was talking. „Alright sir, anything else?" I returned the warm smile. „Uhh... I.. um.. Well-" He looked stunned and started stuttering. I didn't want to make it worse for him, so I spoke to his embarrassment. „What if I get you your strawberry milkshake and when you finish it, you can decide whether to order anything else? " After a moment of silence and staring at me, he spoke again with a smile. „Ah yes, that would be wonderful."

Once I got back behind the counter to T/K, I set my hand. After a while he handed me five dollars without a single word and went on to work again defeated once again. 'easy money' I thought for myself.

Just like yesterday I gave the guy in the hoodie his milkshake and kept concentrating on my work. That wasn't easy though. There was this old aggressive man who purposely made troubles for his entertainment. I suspected he had dementia, but I think almost everyone around me has lately. He liked to drag his family to our cafe and apparently liked to show off in front of them. He thought that he probably owned the cafe and that he could afford almost anything.

„Hey! you- maid or whatever you are.. Milk!" I slowly turned to him with disbelief in my eyes. „Excuse me? Is there a problem, sir?" I asked diplomatically stepping forward to him. „Someone's deaf, huh? I. said. MILK." How arrogant I thought... But I'm about to keep my cool. „I see, okay sir. Now please tell me what you want me to do with the milk." „The fuck you mean? BRING IT, MORON!" his yelling made me jump and step back. T/K helped me out of the unpleasant situation by bringing a glass of milk. After that he pulled me to the side so I could calm down from the shouting. I hated to deal with him almost daily, but it's what I get paid for.

After a few minutes I felt good enough to work again. At that moment, the man wearing the sleeveless sweatshirt appeared at the register and handed over an empty milkshake glass. „Thank you very much for your services. The milkshakes you make here are lovely!" His words somehow made me happy and put a smile on my face. Blood began to rush to my cheeks, making my cheeks slightly red. „Anything else I can do for you?" I asked politely. „There is actually one thing, yes..." I strained my ears to hear his wish. „Y-your name.. May I know w-what your name is?" He scratched his neck at his question. His handsome smile didn't fade for a second as he was looking at me. I took his glass from his hand and answered. „It is Y/N L/N, mind telling me your name?" It seemed that he shivered a little, it took him about two seconds to answer, but he eventually did. „I'm Peter." „Well, I'm glad I could serve you Peter, again today! Will you visit us tomorrow too?" „Depends if you'll be here as well." „I'm here from Monday to Thursday." „Well, that answers my question. Oh and I almost forgot..." Suddenly he showed me a red rose. I have no idea where he kept the rose the whole time. „Here, Y/N... This is your todays tip." I accepted the flower with open lips. It was beautiful. „I love it, Peter! Thank you very much, this made my day!" If we weren't separated by a counter, I would have hugged him for sure. I had a reason to look forward to the next day.

☆.。：*・゜=time skip=☆.。.：*・゜☆

Thank god that todays Thursday is a bit cooler than the days before. Pleasant wind flew through my hair when I was heading to work. I was there first surprisingly, it doesn't happen very often. I put on my work apron and turned on the ice cream machine. And because I deserve it, I made myself latte that I of course paid for. I quickly wiped down the tables and eventually the rest of the staff arrived. I greeted T/K with an offer to make him coffee, but he refused, saying he was saving money for a new joystick or something like that.

The cafe was quiet today. Suspiciously calm. Then I realized that the old man didn't come today. I was relieved that I didn't have to deal with him today. I didn't even wonder where he was. I didn't care as long as he didn't make trouble around me or insult me.

This afternoon none other than Peter came in, the hooded man in the black sleeveless sweatshirt. As soon as he sat down at his table, I went to serve him. „Good afternoon, Peter, let me guess... Strawberry milkshake?" I smiled, caughing him off guard. Blush appeared on his cheeks as he stutterly spoke. „Ah, hello Y/N! H-how did you know?" „Well.. You had the same twice so I figured out you'd go for it again?" „Well, you are absolutely correct. I would love another strawberry milkshake!" and so I made one.

„Would you mind joining me?" He asked, pointing on the seat opposite to him. „Sorry..." a said „I'm still working, management wouldn't like it." „I can pay for whatever you'd choose." „That's kind of you, really.. Still I gotta say no." He looked so upset I pitted him. „But um.. Tomorrow's my day off. We could maybe..." that was the moment where his eyes almost popped out of his head. He looked like a child on Christmas day. „YES!" he unexpectedly yelled and drew attention on both of us. „UHM I'm mean.. I'm sorry heh.." looking embarrassed he apologized. „So.. tomorrow? Afternoon?" He agreed and started to drink his milkshake happily as soon as I brought it to him.

The only thing that startled me was T/K, piercing  me with his gaze. „What?" I asked confused. „What, you ask?! What was thaaat-" „What was what?" still not getting the point of his. „Are you seriously going out with this creep?" „Who are you calling a creep, huh? He's actually nice." I pouted at him. „Wow, I didn't know you are into guys that look like they are addicted to drugs or alcohol." „Hey, you can't say that when you don't know him!" 

I stood up for Peter. „And you do know him?" T/K argued back. „Well... I'm about to." T/K broke the silence between us. „Be careful, Y/N." „I will T/K, thanks for caring. Just remember, I'm adult too."

Meanwhile Peter drank his shake and went to the counter to pay. „There you go, pretty lady. See you tomorrow." Peter handed me the money and smirked. I took the money with a kind smile. I also noticed that T/K and Peter stared at each other almost deadly. Hmm, I wonder why, or not? „Whatcha staring at, man?" I couldn't believe my eyes that T/K was the one that said it. „You wanna know what I'm staring at? I'm staring on idiotic face, blocking my view." „Oh yeah? At least I have some hair, bald head." They roaster each other for like a whole minute that seemed like an hour. I was just standing there, watching like a female doe looking at two stags fighting with their antlers. I gotta admit it was quite funny to watch them till they involved nudging and physical signs of pushing. A few things fell of the table separating them, which made me act. I pushed them both away from each other, giving them warning glares. „I better go." Peter looked at me with apology in his eyes. „Yeah, sorry for T/Ks behavior." I replied, not meeting T/Ks eyes at any cost. „Then Peter turned and gave me a smile in the entrance door, walking round a corner.

„I'm disappointed, T/K." I said, picking up the fallen things off the ground. „Whatever... You'll thank me later." He scoffed, going to serve someone just to show he doesn't care about what happened. While picking up the things that fell I noticed a black lighter with a picture of a black and white colored heart. I thought for a moment... Wait up, PETER has the same heart on his dark blue T-shirt! He must've dropped it while trying to hurt T/K. I rushed out of the shop, running the way I saw Peter going a moment ago.

Peters pov:

That bastard makes me look stupid and dangerous to Y/N. Funny, he ain't wrong by saying I'm dangerous, but I would never hurt Y/N. And I wouldn't let anyone else hurt her. Or insult her, just like the old man on Wednesday did. Good thing I dealt with him, he's not going to say shit to anyone anymore, including my darling, again.

I went to an alley between some shops a few meters from the cafe. That jerk was getting on my nerves, always hanging around my Y/N... And so I pulled out a cigarette to calm myself down. But- oh shit.. I can't find my lighter. Then, an angel appeared in front of me.

Y/Ns pov:

„Peter! There you are..." I gasped for air, happy that he didn't go far. „Y-you forgot your lighter, um.. There you go." I handed it to him and watched his shocked face. „Wow- you chased me just to give me my lighter back?" „Yeah, I guess so." a tiny moment of silence appeared, however it wasn't feeling awkward at all. „Thank you Y/N." Peter smiled at me and lighted up his cigarette. „Oh." I said slightly socked, „hm? what?" „N-nothing! I just.. didn't know you smoke, that's all." I didn't want it to sound like I was being disgusted. „Oh- sorry." Surprisingly he put out his cigarette right away. „You didn't have to do that! I mean, we all deal with our problems somehow, one way or another." His eyes widened and I kept on talking. „I don't care what T/K says about you... I will make my own opinion on you and I'm looking forward to it."

Peters pov:

I couldn't believe my eyes... Y/N was so perfect. They are willing to get to know me. They are so kind. They are so precious and pretty and... Oh god. I'm mumbling to myself again. „Ehm- thank you, darling." „Darling? Well, that's new." Crap- I called them 'darling'- I mean, they are, but- Shitshitshitshitshit-!.. „I like that nickname." they said right after. Wow. Did I mention I fucking love them?! CAUSE I DO!-

„I gotta go, I still have stuff to clean and people to serve. See you tomorrow, Peter!" That was the last sentence they said to me today.

Fuck I'm obsessed.

[barblaz-arts]

Hello!

I would like to start with the fact that your art style is amazing, same goes for the design of the characters. (They look yummy tbh)

I have been wondering if you ever got some kind of art block, if yes what did you do?

If you see this, I hope you have a great day.

Thank you!

Most of the time, when I wanna draw but cant quite know WHAT i wanna draw, I redraw stuff. Like, screenshots. Or old drawings. Or even memes. Those are especially fun for drawing expressions I might not usually draw. Or I take scenes from fics I like or fics I've written and draw them. It helps that I get to move my pen with only half the brain power needed to picture what I want drawn.

But sometimes when I really cant overcome it, I usually just wait it out. Do my other hobbies like read or write or churn up another meta analysis. You cant force yourself to overcome that block sometimes and that's ok.

Oh but sometimes tho! Something that works unintentionally is when I'm like really really upset. I dont like to show it much, bcuz I understand that I'm getting old and I have a significant amount of followers that I dont wanna be a bad example to... But I can have quite a temper on me and can get really petty. But instead of exploding, I try to draw with those feelings.

Like, a while ago, I got really upset about stuff with an AI art fraud. And im just like, you know what this person can claim they're an "artist" all they want, but they still havent even shown a paper drawing as concrete proof. all just excuses and shit. The next moment I drew this, just to reassure myself that I'm an artist and I know what being a real artist is. That unlike AI frauds, I can show I dont need a computer to draw. All I need is a pencil and paper and I'm good.

(Then I proceeded to draw more than I usually do on paper because of that lmao)

And then when Youtooz came with an announcement that they're gonna release four figurines, half of which was 2 versions of Alastor and NO sign of Vaggie, I drew four Vaggies. Yes. I drew all this angry. Until yunno. I got so happy over how nice this ended up looking instead.

And then the last art I posted with the Harem Hotel AU? That's been in my drafts since november but I only got to finish it recently because I got upset over all the people in my notifs leaving hate comments about Vaggie lmao. Just told myself that they can claim to be objective critics who arent misogynistic, but at the end of the day all they could do is leave mean comments on twitter. Meanwhile, I can create! It's borderline horny gay shit, but hey! At least I'm doin' something productive! I can show female characters like her are are worth so much love to the point of making art!

Just. Idk. Maybe next time you feel negative feelings and shit, use art as the outlet for that negativity. Make something out of it. It doesnt have to be pretty, but hopefully it could make you feel good.

Or you know. Like I said, just wait it out.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

Misconceptions my family/friends about the food bank at my school:

- "Going to the food bank takes food from other people". The more people go, the more they can demonstrate a need in the student population and apply for more funding.

- "I can afford basic staple groceries, so I wouldn't benefit". The food bank has a variety of food items, including a lot of "treats" and foods you wouldn't expect to see. Even if you can buy what you need to get through the week, having some seasonings, produce, meat, shelf staples, etc. can still go a long way. Coffee, tea, and cocoa packets can make life a lot nicer. And the local grocery stores donate lots of just-past-sell-by baked goods, so if you like donuts with your coffee or lemon cake to brighten your afternoon, the food bank can help you out.

- "Don't they pick out the food for you? I don't want someone else deciding what I eat." The food bank here is like a much smaller grocery store; you're given bags and you fill them with what you need. Even someone like me, who has a lot of dietary restrictions, can benefit.

- "I can afford food, so I don't need anything. Im just struggling to buy other things, like school supplies" The food bank here has a separate care pantry. I've gotten hygiene items (pads, tampons, shampoo/conditioner/body wash, etc), kitchen items (plastic cups, ziplocs, trash bags, etc), toilet paper, and even sexual health items (sex health kits including lube, condoms, sometimes dental dams) from the care pantry. At the start of the semester, they had a back to school kit which included a notebook, a folder, a pen, and a highlighter. They have ESL books for international students. I've gotten gloves and socks from them. One time, I saw three pairs of shoes.

"So you can just take as much as you want?" No. Most food items are limited. All care items are limited, except for sex health kits and period products. The more popular items are, the more likely they are to be limited, bc they run out faster. It's a great day when the food bank gets a large donation of some type of produce like apples or grapefruit, bc that's the one time produce isn't super restricted. The food bank is really good for getting a little bit of a lot of things, not stocking up in bulk.

"So I can just walk in the door and get free stuff?" No. I was surprised how many hoops I had to jump through. I had to present my student ID three times to get to the food, as well as complete a detailed form. I had to give my full name, my employment status, how many people were in my household, my student status, my age, and sign up for a specific day to visit the food bank. That form also included two waivers, which absolve the school and donors of any responsibility for giving you spoiled food.

- "The food bank is accessible to everyone on campus". No. The food bank is frustratingly inaccessible. It's located all the way to the north end of campus, as far as possible from all of the dorms. There are two parking spaces; every other space within a quarter mile is metered. The food bank is open for two hours a day, but the hours are different for every day of the week, and they change every semester. The food bank entrance is down a flight of stairs, and there's no clear alternate entrance for people who can't use stairs safely. The first checkpoint to present your ID and proof of form completion is outside, and the building only lets in about ten students at a time; in the winter, this means standing outside in the bitter cold for up to an hour. Many of these students don't have closed toed shoes, gloves, or other cold weather gear. Student IDs can be physical cards, but the form and waivers can only be completed online; if your smartphone dies, you're fucked. The form itself is difficult to navigate to and only in English, despite a disproportionate amount of the students using the food bank speaking English as a second (or third or fourth) language. Worst of all, a lot of these issues aren't clear to students until they try to go.

- "Only the most desperate students use the foodbank; it's shameful/embarrassing to go there". 1 in 3 students use this food bank. Every time I've mentioned going to the food bank in conversation, nobody has reacted negatively. At most, they might ask me how to go there themselves. Even with all the hoops, the food bank massively improves my quality of life; I would keep going even if I were still employed. Do you know how much money I've saved on toilet paper and pads? On shampoo? On dish soap? I'm able to access free lube discreetly, which makes using tampons possible for me. I can get foods I don't strictly *need*, but make eating a joy again. I can get sparkling water, juice boxes, cocoa packets, and coffee. I got bags of apples and an orange this fall and made the best fucking cider in the world for no money at all. I get oil and butter and salt and pepper and eggs and bread. Yeah, they have the cheapest version of everything, and I hve to check the bread loaves for mold. It's still worth it. It's Free Food And Care Items.

[zeruby16]

extra credit- kim jiwoong

18+ MDNI

genre: smut, fluff, romance

summary: when you're in dire need of extra credit after butchering your classical literature paper, you ask your class ta, jiwoong, for help.

word count: 3.3 k

warnings: afab! reader, dom jiwoong; usage of pet names (sweetheart, angel, good girl); cursing; oral sex (giving); fingering; penetration; protected sex (always use protection); slightest degradation kink; slight sir kink; slight exhibitionism; please let me know if i missed any!

notes: um..hey y'all so i'm back. trust me when i say this took me like three months to write because being in school made me so uninspired😭 i had major writers block and still do, but my bestie motivated me to finish this. anyways, i have not grammer checked this at all, so please spare me. i hope you all enjoy and i'll try to write more if i can!

REMINDER: 18+ MDNI

you hated the word validation, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

in school, at home, with your friends, you craved hearing people compliment your hard work. 

it made you feel like you were in ecstasy.

so you’d be damned if you got a b in classical literature. it would ruin your perfect gpa, your reputation with your experienced professors, and your sanity.

you needed an a. you were going to get that a.

your main obstacle was an analysis paper on pride and prejudice. 

pride and prejudice for god’s sake.

everything would’ve been fine if jane austen wrote in understandable sentences, but here you were struggling to comprehend how the hell elizabeth fell for mr. darcy. 

the paper was due today and you submitted whatever you could online, but you remembered your professor’s words.

“every project will be graded by me, every paper will be graded by your teacher’s assistant, kim jiwoong.”

kim jiwoong was well-known throughout your university. he was a graduate student who helped out all of his previous professors. it was very noble of him.

he was also the most beautiful man to exist. any girl dropped at his sight, including you.

you were already familiar with jiwoong.

since his previous professors were in the same major as yours, you already had him as a ta for another class.

the other class, the english renaissance, was the worst class you’ve taken. 

you had done perfectly well on every assignment, but then your final happened to be cumulative and you could not remember an ounce of anything pertaining to shakespeare. 

you caved and confided in jiwoong as you always struggled with cumulative finals. then, you scored a 96 on the final.

half of it was on shakespeare. you should’ve failed, but you always got an a.

you knocked on the door twice before waiting for his response.

“come in!”

once you opened the door, you were met with his focused eyes. 

jiwoong was one of the nicest people you knew. he helped anyone who struggled left and right. he even offered tutoring to the students who couldn’t comprehend what went on in lecture.

you had no doubt that he was probably reviewing someone’s paper right now, so they could submit a better product. 

“what can i do for you y/n?” you noticed the slight change in his posture, he had to have a clue as to what you were planning.

“i submitted my analysis paper, but i wanted to stop by and mention how i didn’t comprehend anything from the book,” your eyes contained a hint of dejection. 

“i can’t do anything about it, you already submitted it,” he sternly said, you could see his hand gripping the pen he was using harder.

“i know, but i wanted to apologize beforehand. austen’s works are complex and i read the book three times, but i couldn’t conjure anything in the paper,”

“i tried jiwoong, for weeks, but nothing.”

he sighed while leaning back on his chair. it was working.

“you never struggle with papers,” he mentioned suspiciously.

“sometimes i do, it’s rare though. i’ve only ever struggled once throughout college,” you emphasized. 

“what are you trying at y/n?”

“i was just wondering if there was an opportunity for extra credit,” you innocently asked. you wanted him to give in. you needed him to give in.

he pushes back his hair in distress, while staring you up and down. he may have only dealt with you once, but he knew your ruse.

“you know how wrong this is,”

“jiwoong, i am an adult, you’re an adult. there is absolutely nothing stopping us,” you moved closer to his desk, leaning on it while placing your arms down.

“my integrity will,” you chuckled.

you neared his face as you whispered in his ear, “it hasn’t stopped you before.”

“god the things you make me feel,” he muttered under his breath. you moved away from him, enjoying the teasing.

you walked backward toward the door silently begging for him to stand up. to come rush by your side and help you.

you were in dire need of his assistance.

“do you know how hard it is to see you in class?” he started, standing slowly from his chair.

“to see you laughing with those idiotic boys? to see them staring at you like they have a chance?”

jiwoong makes his way towards you, backing you into the door.

“i’m only having fun,” 

“they can’t handle you y/n. you’re the smartest one in your batch and your beauty is unmatched. they don’t stand a chance,”

“and you do?” you taunted, finding his eyes and then his lips.

his hands made their way to your waist, pinning it against the door. you couldn’t help but let out a small grin at your silent victory.

“of course i do sweetheart, i’m the only one who’s made you scream,” you felt your legs give up on you as his words went straight to your core.

“i’m the only one who’s heard your beautiful moans and small whimpers while you lose yourself on my cock,” his fingers graced your breasts under your shirt.

his touch was cool, but all it made you do was burn. 

you closed your eyes in delight. you forgot how deliberating jiwoong made you feel. it was why you longed for him so much after he helped you the first time.

“what happened? cat caught your tongue?” he smirked seeing you shiver under his touch.

“you act all high and mighty when we both know how easily i can change that.”

“prove it then,” you blurted, wanting to feel his everything and needing him desperately.

“i need you to say it louder sweetheart,” he caressed your face, pulling you closer to him.

“prove it,” you spoke and his lips took yours. he kissed you like you had been apart from years. 

his hands bunched up the skirt you were wearing and he slightly lifted, pausing the kiss to see the view before meeting your lips again.

“you got soaked at the thought of you taking me?” he teased, your face flushed red, avoiding his eyes.

“look at me princess,” his hand forced you to meet his eyes. he was anticipating your answer. 

“did you? did you fantasize about me?” 

you whimpered under his touch, feeling utterly embarrassed at his words, yet you wanted more.

“yes sir, i thought of you,”

“no wonder you couldn’t write your damn paper, you were too busy thinking about getting fucked.”

jiwoong tightened the hold on your waist and guided you towards his desk, stopping when you sat yourself on top of it. 

he pulled away from your lips as he quickly discarded your shirt somewhere in the office. you tossed your bra somewhere, signaling how you wanted his kiss everywhere.

he proceeded to ravish your chest, bruising you as much as he could. it was as if he wanted to prove to others how he was the only one who deserved you.

you started to feel his body under his shirt, while pulling on his hair every so often, earning grunts from him.

annoyed by his shirt, jiwoong lifts it off of himself and leans further towards you, deepening the kiss.

your hands started to reach for his cock, caressing it over his pants. you needed him more than ever.

his brows furrowed at your movements and you unzipped his pants, feeling him closer. he lets you do as you please as you pull down his pants, his boxers joining them.

seeing the hardened member, you immediately stroke it a few times before coating your hand in spit and proceeding to repeat your motions.

“god how are you so good at this?” jiwoong grunted while placing his forehead on yours.

you let go of his member and stood up, grabbing his arms in place and sitting him down on the desk instead. your knees met the carpet and you took him into mouth.

you stopped for a moment to respond to him, “i’m a hands-on learner.”

he lightly moans at your words, recalling how the last time you two were in this position he was guiding you.

in satisfaction, you continued bobbing your mouth up and down his hard-on. you took the time to tease his slit that was already coated with precum and use your hands, slightly squeezing his member. 

he grabbed your hair, somewhat forcing you to quicken your pace. drool had started to spill from your mouth and you looked up at jiwoong, seeing him in absolute bliss.

“my good girl, you’re doing so well,” he cooed.

his words went straight to your core and you felt the need to please him more.

once you felt his hold on your tighten, you knew he was close to cumming. you quickened your pace while his cock started to hit the back of your throat.

his grunts were more vocal and he moaned as his cum spilled into your mouth.

you took everything into your mouth and finished off with a ‘pop’ once you were finished, smiling at him afterwards.

“you’ll be the death of me,” he commented before lifting your body up and holding it as your legs felt like jelly.

“did i do good?” you asked expectantly, jiwoong released a sigh before taking your lips.

“you did amazing, sweetheart, but i think i need a little more for you to get an a,” he chuckled.

“i’m all yours jiwoong, take me.”

he smirked at your words and made his way back to his chair. once he sat, he patted his legs.

“come here sweetheart, we’re going to grade your paper together,” your eyes sparkled at the thought and you walked and sat yourself on his lap, facing the computer.

you shivered as you felt his warm member under you, but he stayed still. once he found your paper among many of the others, he clicked on it and placed his hands on your thighs.

the paper came up and you reread the words, remembering every line that you wrote. you were so focused on reanalysing your paper, that you failed to realize how jiwoong was starting to tease your bundle of nerves.

you let out a small gasp as his finger grazed your core, teasing you every now and then as you grabbed the desk for support.

“let’s see how you did angel,” he says into your ear as he inserts a finger inside of you. 

you placed your head on his shoulder for support and he fastens the pace, while reading your paper.

“eyes on the screen, i already found a mistake,” he forces you to look at your paper highlighting the mistakes. meanwhile, he plunges another finger inside of you.

“you contradicted yourself here, how can darcy be chivalrous once sentence and then an ass in the next,” 

you left his question unanswered, letting the ecstasy you were feeling sink in until his fingers stopped.

“i asked you a question,”

“uhm,” you swallowed, “i don’t know.”

jiwoong chuckled, “you don’t know? this is your paper sweetheart, minus two points.”

you quipped your heads towards him, realizing how he was genuinely grading your paper and begging for him to take it back.

“you want extra credit you have to deserve it, you’re going to explain each mistake you made for me,”

“but-”

“no buts, you asked for this. now, why did you contradict yourself?”

you sighed, silently admitting defeat.

“darcy did everything the way he was suppose to, making himself a perfect suitor in a way, but he completely disregarded elizabeth’s feelings the entire time and decided to act purely for his own interests,”

you could feel jiwoong’s smile as his fingers started to continuously pleasure you. you moaned in relief as jiwoong continued to read the paper.

he tsked, but his fingers maintained their pace.

“and here, you really think elizabeth revealed jane’s and bingley’s possible engagement out of jealousy?”

you shut your eyes slightly annoyed, but answered nonetheless wanting his fingers to fill you.

“not out of jealousy-” you whimpered as he fastened the pace of his fingers, teasing you endlessly.

“out of spite, she only mentioned the couple because she knew it would garner a reaction from darcy,” you somehow let out.

with a hum of satisfaction you assume, jiwoong places his eyes on your paper once again. you rejoice looking at the screen because the paper was nearly done being read.

jiwoong takes his time using his fingers to tease you mercilessly, all while forcing you to maintain your composure.

you begin to feel a haze as you feel a knot in your stomach.

“jiwoong-”

“not yet angel, i’m not done grading.”

your moans grew louder, feeling your climax closer and closer. your eyes looked at his concentrated face as he read and read.

it felt like a decade and you couldn’t handle it.

“jiwoong please,” you begged, not caring about your shame anymore.

you came here for him, the a was just an excuse.

“why do you think elizabeth accepted darcy’s proposal?” 

“are you serious?”

“why?”

“she was desperate for marriage,” you rushed out, starting to lose any complete thought.

“do you think she was as desperate as you are right now?” he said lowly, never wavering the pace of his fingers and reaching your spot.

“i don’t know,” you whimpered.

“what was that?”

“i don’t know!”

“but you know everything sweetheart don’t you? that’s why you think you deserve an a,”

“jiwoong, i’m so close,” you completely pressed your body towards his desk, trying to restrain yourself from touching him.

“i know, which is why i’m not allowing you to cum,” he announced.

you turned to him astonished as he took his fingers out of you and innocently licked your juices from them.

“the paper could’ve been better, i thought you read the book three times?”

“i did,” you nearly sobbed.

“well that didn’t reflect in the paper, so now you have to earn your grade and your right to cum,”

“how?” you immediately quipped, willing to do anything for the man.

“you can start by placing yourself on the desk, ass up,” your body immediately follows through and you stand up with your hands on the desk while facing the door.

you hear rustling of the cabinets behind you as jiwoong finds a condom and he grabs a hold of your waist.

“remember angel, try not to be too loud. everyone is grading,” you nodded understandingly, whimpering as you felt jiwoong slowly entering you.

“god princess, it was like you were waiting for me,” he groaned, waiting for your signal to go as your walls clenched around him.

when you placed your elbows on the desk, positioning yourself in a more pleasurable way, jiwoong took it as a sign to go on.

his pace started slowly, while you moaned under your breath feeling him everywhere. 

“jiwoong,” you moaned while he quickened his pace. although he tried to conceal them, his groans were slowly becoming louder.

“yes sweetheart?”

“more,” you begged, wanting more pleasure, more of his touch, and more of his everything.

“your wish is my command,” he said, bucking his hips towards yours rapidly while using one of the hands that was on your waist to tease your clit.

you let out a moan as he continuously hit your pleasure spot with a steady face. with his other free hand, he grabbed your hair loosely, pulling you closer towards him.

all you could let out was his name in whimpers. 

“you’re so good for me y/n,” the praise went straight to your core as he knew what you wanted to hear.

“such a good girl, you take my cock so well,”

“only for you,” you let out between the whimpers and moans, as jiwoong shows no signs of stopping.

“you wanted this didn’t you? you didn’t even need help, you just wanted to lose yourself on my cock,”

“not…true,” you lied.

you loathed pride and prejudice, but papers were your forte and if you really tried, you knew you could’ve done fine without help.

jiwoong was just amazing at validating you and fucking you beautifully, so you couldn’t help but beg for his assistance.

he slapped your ass in response, “don’t lie to me,” he warned.

“i promise sir,” you nearly yelled, forgetting any sense of being quiet. jiwoong placed a hand on your mouth, muffling any sound.

“you promised last time how this would never happen again didn’t you? look at you now,” he whispered in your ear.

you closed your eyes in ecstasy as you felt the knot in your stomach growing once again.

jiwoong kept on giving and giving, while you just took everything he gave.

“please, ” you begged into his palms, clenching around him while he hit your spot over and over again.

“just a little longer princess, i’m almost there,” jiwoong somehow got faster, ramming into you repeatedly all while you moaned into his hands.

“god, you’re perfect,” he mumbled.

suddenly, it all felt like too much. you closed your eyes in bliss while screaming out jiwoong’s name as you came. your head fell onto his shoulders as he lightly kissed your chin, chasing his release as well.

once his groans grew louder, you felt the warmth of the cum he spilled into the condom as his pace became sloppy.

he slowly pulled out of you as you stood breathlessly in between his arms, beads of sweat slowly falling down your face.

he disposed of the filled condom into the trash under the desk and turned you around to face him.

his goofy smile made you chuckle on the spot as you realized the other reason you wanted to visit jiwoong.

you genuinely enjoyed his presence. he made you feel safe and seen when everyone else had expectations for you. he looked at you as if you were the most important thing in the world at that moment.

desires aside, jiwoong was someone you could love and you were willing to give it a shot.

if he didn’t show how much he cared with words, he certainly did with actions as he showed when he started to clean you up with tissues.

you couldn’t help but laugh.

“what’s so funny?” he quizzically asked.

“you’re using tissues?” he rolled his eyes as he threw them in the trash and lifted your body to sit on the desk.

“well if someone didn’t need help so much, i could’ve prepared with time to bring something more premium,” he joked as you caressed the hairs behind his neck lightly.

“i’m sorry, the pent up stress from finals got to me. you don’t have to do anything with the grade,”

“nonsense y/n, your paper was exceptional either way. you didn’t need extra credit at all. you doubt yourself too much,” he complimented.

“does that mean i get an a?” you excitedly let out, not being able to contain yourself. jiwoong smiled at the gesture.

“yes, but you should probably stop relying on me for them because i am no help,”

“i guess it’s a good thing i graduate this semester then,” you mentioned and his eyebrows perked up.

“you graduate this semester? how come i didn’t know?”

“i wanted you to think i would taunt you for a long amount of time,” he slightly smirked at your confession.

“as if you didn’t have me wrapped around your fingers. speaking of, since you're graduating, when can i take you out on a date?”

“whenever you grow the balls to ask,” you joked as he looked down and up to meet your eyes again.

“maybe when we’re not naked?”

“probably.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed whatever the hell this was😭 like i mentioned i'll try to write more but this writers block has stumped me. i appreciate you all and thank you for taking the time to read my works! :)

@zeruby16 on tumblr | est. 2023

[3lle-l-black]

Fred Weasley x Artist!Reader

I wrote this but got stuck at the end and don't really know where to go, but I still wanted to post this part now so maybe I'll update the end or post a part 2 of this

Warnings: None, I'm not very good at writing and english is not my first language.

It started in your 3rd year, at 13 years old, theoretical classes can get quite boring sometimes. Little scribbles in the corners of the parchments, strange flowers that were disproportionate to their own leaves, stars, the head of an elf flying without a body across the yellowed paper and anything that came to mind while the teacher's voice sounded in the background.

During your years at Hogwarts, it was easy to find you – if you weren't with the Golden Trio or the twins and Lee, you were drawing in some corner or talking to the paintings. And despite ending up in detention a time or two, you were a good student; you never had any big problems at school, just the usual ones when Fred and George were also involved.

One year later, the drawings gained more detail, and you could easily reproduce images you saw in Herbology or Potions books. Your friends kept encouraging you to draw more, praising and supporting you to try new things. Strangely, Fred always liked to praise you more than anyone else, sometimes he would even leave notes with cute drawings in the middle of your books.

On your 15th birthday, Fred asked Hermione for help choosing a gift, and she had the brilliant idea of buying you some pens and a Muggle coloring book. In 5th year, your favorite pastime became coloring the pages after class in the Hogwarts grounds, the black lake being a beautiful sight and the twins debating a new invention or prank by your side. Some days, Fred would take a nap next to you between classes after asking you to draw something for him.

Without realizing, you started drawing more and more things that reminded you of him. That year the twins told you about their plan to open a store; The way Fred's eyes lit up and George couldn't sit still when they talked about it... It just warmed your heart. So you wanted to help by creating packaging, designing possible labels, and even giving product ideas. That was also the year that one thing changed...

— "So, what did you wanna ask me?" — You were on your way to Minerva's class when Fred stopped you with the excuse that he had an important question to do. George was with him but then he quickly left with the excuse of being late for something, not before winking at his brother without you noticing, as an incentive and provocation.

— "Oh, you know, you're supporting and helping me and George, so as a 'thank you', I planned a day out for us in Hogsmeade, If you wanna. We can even stop by Honeydicks, and you can pick up whatever you want." — Fred speaks casually with a bright smile on his face, hoping you wouldn't notice his nervousness.

— "Of course. You, George and me almost always go there together, why do you seem nervous to ask? Is Lee go-oh" — Your face brightened in realization, — "Oh, like just us?"

— "I love how you pick up on things quickly" — Fred jokes without any real weight to his teasing. You both laugh and he takes a deep breath before confirming, — "Just us, sweetie"

You narrow your eyes a little and tilt your head to the side, trying to think about his invitation. He takes a step closer to you, his heart racing, more nervous about your answer than he thought he would be. — "Of course, Freddie. It's a date"

And after that date there was another and another and another... Until he invited you to spend half of the holidays at the Burrow, now not as a friend but as a partner.

So... Part 2?

[mimisfortress]

Things I Do & Don' t Regret Buying

𓈒𓏸𓐍‪𓈒 𓏸𓈒𓂂𓂃𓐍𓏸𓈒

𓈒𓏸𓐍‪𓈒 𓏸𓈒𓂂𓂃𓐍𓏸𓈒

Regrets

𓈒𓏸𓐍‪𓈒 𓏸𓈒𓂂𓂃𓐍𓏸𓈒

Sunscreen

• Expires way faster than people think, making it useless after a month or so.

• Purchasing big containers of it is a waste of money, unless your going to be putting it on like 6 people everyday before it expires.

• There are other things that cause skin cancer aside from the sun. In fact, more people are getting skin cancer despite more people purchasing sunscreen.

• If you're going to purchase sunscreen, get a small travel sized container (under 8 oz.) and it'll last you for a while before it expires.

Scented Products

• Fragrance in lotions, shampoo, etc. could mean anything on that ingredient label.

• Candles release terrible stuff into your home's air. I still love candles though, but just putting that info. out there. Inhaling smoke in general isn't good for you. Beeswax candles + essential oils, if you are someone who cares.

• Avoid products with fragrance in the ingredients label, and also look for products where water is around the top of the label.

Plastic Stuff

• You can't tell, but plastic degrades over time.

• BPA & internal skin cancer, blah blah blah.

• I lean more towards glass anyways. I like how it sounds and it just somehow makes drinks & food taste 3 billion times better when in glass.

• I WILL SAY, THOUGH-- plastic straws make more sense to me than glass and metal straws. You can reuse plastic straws. Glass straws could shatter easily I feel, and metal straws just... IDK. Glass straws might be the best option if you take care of them, though. Yeah, no, NVM, I think glass straws might be a pretty good option if you care about BPA stuff.

Meditation Apps

• I shoulda just looked them up on YouTube.

Fast Fashion

• I didn't know you could tell the quality was bad on camera until it was too late.

• I always sweat so bad in plastic-y fabric

• Terrible cheap fabric melts like plastic, too.

• Thrifting ain't so bad. If you ought to buy something off TEMU or SHEIN or whatever, don't get shirts, skirts, etc. unless you don't mind people knowing you shop online 💀

• Sometimes you've gotta shop online & that's just kind of how it is nowadays, whatever-- but whenever I've bought something super cool from online, I've been itching to replace it with something the same but better quality and also ethical.

𓈒𓏸𓐍‪𓈒 𓏸𓈒𓂂𓂃𓐍𓏸𓈒

No Regrets

𓈒𓏸𓐍‪𓈒 𓏸𓈒𓂂𓂃𓐍𓏸𓈒

Stickers

• They accumulate and you can do all sorts of stuff with them!!!!!

• Gem stickers are sooo cute with makeup

• They can get annoying to find everywhere tbh but when I DO need them, I'm SO GLAD that I saved them.

Pretty Rocks

• Me personally, I'm a rock collector. I love rocks & my family has a history of lapidary.

• You can make jewelry with them and sell them for a gazillion dollars. Someone out there will buy it!

• I luv when they accumulate 😋

• You can get them for cheap if you have a good eye

Painting Stuff

• When I get scared I'm running out, there's always a whole lot more in my storage, and that's pretty much the principle with all the stuff I don't regret buying! I can't say the same with more perishable stuff like sunscreen, make-up, lotion, etc.

Jewelry-Making

• Always good to do something when you're bored for both yourself, and maybe to sell to folks.

• Accumulates. Doesn't expire.

Stationary

• I have this weird anxiety that I'm going to run out of paper, pens, notebooks, erasers, etc. when I actually have more of those things than I could possibly use.

• Accumulates. Doesn't expire.

Shoes

• If they end up too big for me or I end up not wearing them much, great gift for someone else!

• I love my collection of high heels. They make me feel confident.

Glass Containers

• Glass doesn't degrade the way plastic does, it kind of just erodes, I guess.

• I love pretty drinks inside a pretty glass.

Fruit

• A perishable that is probably not best to accumulate too much of if you're not going to eat it all.

• Better to eat fruit than foods that will make me break out, though!

• Just eat it before it goes bad. Better yet, learn how to store different kinds of fruit for maximum shelf life!

Also, sidenote-- don't boycott ALL industries that are unethical to their workers, if you know what I mean. That's somebody's paycheck, even if the way they are treated in work is unethical. If you're going to boycott businesses, do it wisely.

Don't take away someone's unethical job out of sympathy unless you are going to give them an alternative, too.

Someone might be working in an industry that's terrible for them just to get food on their families plates.

IN MY OPINION, I do support boycotting TEMU, SHEIN, etc. because of child labour shi. Lots of those folks aren't getting paid at all.

[90shetfield]

The Everyday Life of Kirk and Y/N

What is the routine like with Y/N and Kirk?

1988

The Everyday Life of Kirk and Y/N

5:30-6:30AM: Me and Kirk Love to cuddle for at least an hour before we get up. It's like an unspoken rule. He holds me tight all night as i feel his body heat creep up on me spooning me with so much love and adoration. His breath on the nape of my neck and his curly fluffy hair tickling my skin. If one of us gets up we whisper to each other sweet nothings praising each other before going back to cuddling. Sometimes the cuddling escalates to something more…

6:30-7:15AM: After we finally get up (which can be a struggle sometimes as Kirk loves to sleep in) we shower together. A lot of body worshiping and touching usually happens at this time, y'know being naked with your Fiance in close quarters makes this happen. He’ll shampoo my hair giving my scalp a much needed massage making sure to handle me with absolute care like I'm some dainty flower trying to preserve the poor petals. He usually hums a song or even a riff he's been writing in my ear. I bob my head along loving his voice. After the shower he still takes care of me brushing my hair and putting on my completion products for me.

7:45-8:30AM: This is when me and him eat breakfast. Its silent only the sounds of sipping and chewing can be heard with the occasional car passing. It's an enjoyable silence. I’ll sit next to him on the table leaning my head on his shoulder reading the comic books or magazines that he reads with him. He feeds me a piece of toast, tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing me on the cheek.

8:30-9:30AM: We get ready for our day together. Me and him take an hour to get our clothes on and out the door. I'll do my makeup while he walks in back and forth into the mirror's frame wondering where his jeans are despite them being right next to our bed (he checked them four times already) He kisses the top of my head, getting his jeans on telling me how gorgeous I am with or without makeup. I tend to borrow a lot of his clothes too like the band tee shirts and jackets, boy do i love wearing his jackets. If i'm not with him i have the jacket to remind me of my wonderful soon to be husband and that just warms my day no matter how bad i'm feeling.

10:00AM-2:00PM: when it's our errand day we take a long time just walking around exploring los angeles. Going to countless outlets and antique stores trying to find something that both plagues our interests. Me and Kirk both love classic horror movies and comic books, we have quite a collection already. If we see an item relating to any of this we get it displaying it in our collection. Days like this are rare though with him being a famous rockstar and all. He's so busy from this time with meeting and recording sessions so i cherish the time we spend alone everyday.

I remember him taking my hand running into this one store he found. The inside being filled with couples gifts and cards. He takes me straight to the chocolate section knowing how much i love it. (almost as much as him) He tells me to take my pick saying he’ll pay for it because he loves to see how happy it makes me. This is the sweetest man ever, I don't know what I'd do without Kirk Hammett in my life. It would be one boring life..

2:30-5:00PM: In our house we have our own little creativity room. One half of it is dedicated to painting and artistry something i take so much pride in. Ever since I was a little girl I would have such a love for scribbling something on a paper with a green crayon that it would somehow be classified as art? It lets all my creativity flow with a stroke of a brush or the ink flowing out of a ballpoint pen. The other side of the room is where Kirks guitars a music related things reside. The room is pretty big and I give him most of the space because Music is his actual career not his hobby but still. All of the guitars hung up on the wall securely, the mess of papers on the floor having musical notes with unreleased music attached. Next to it is a huge pile of multi-colored picks with all different textures and thicknesses to create a whole new sound. While I paint he’ll play the new things he's working on with his bandmates trying to perfect every last detail. Somedays James and Lars will show up to give him some encouragement and just to hang out. We’ll all just have a beer as black sabbath is blasting in the background from our old record player.

5:00-6:30PM: Dinner time! I do most of the cooking in the house. Kirk told me i never need to work a day in my life ever again, hell take care of me. I want to at least give him some stuff to fuel him up. He’ll cut veggies for me and put them into a soup or watch the pasta cook while i work on the sauce. After the food is done we tell eachother about our days. He listens at every single fucking work im  saying being so engaged. It makes me feel so loved

6:30-9:00PM: We just watch TV after a long day of painting or being a legitimate pioneer in your field. You get kind  of lazy. That's me and Kirk every day. We’ll sit on the couch seeing what's on the channels. I like to watch MTV. If a Metallica interview or song ever came on, Kirk would blush heavily and bury his head in arms being embarrassed at seeing himself. I chuckle stroking his hair until it's over. Then I'll check the news, it's good to keep up to date on the world  even if it turns to shit now and then. Kirk will get bored and change the channel to a horror movie that I haven't even heard of. It's always an enjoyable experience though watching a movie with the love of my life. He’ll grab a blanket and throw it on top of us, he puts his hand on my inner thigh under the blanket being sneaky even if no  one is here. 

9:15-11:00PM: we fall asleep on the couch as the movie still blears in the background. The subtle sound of his snores engulf the room. Taking a small little nap.

11:30PM: Kirk will softly nudge me telling me to wake up. My eyes slowly flutter awake and I yawn. Kirk looks down at me on the couch being way too comfortable to move. He gently picks me up into his arms bridal style, carrying me back into our bedroom. He places me onto our sheets with a gigantic sincere smile admiring my sleeping stature. I sit up ruffling my tangled hair yawning again just wanting to fall back asleep. Preferably in his warm embrace. He takes his shirt off discarding it on the dark hardwood floors he fidgets with his belt on his pants also taking it off. The rest of his clothing besides his underwear come off in room for a pair of black sweatpants still leaving his exposed chest for me to eye. He walks back over to me on the edge of the bed.

“Let me take care of you baby” He caresses my cheek helping me slip out of my clothes and into my pajamas. I'm still half asleep for all of it, my heart is still beating as fast as it did when we first met back at an early Metallica gig when they were still little itty bitty baby’s. I don't think Kill Em All even came out yet. Me and him just clicked, James would always make fun off us saying why dont we just fuck already. 

It wasn't until one day in early 1986 where he confessed his love under a bridge in New York, my birthplace. He gave me a necklace asking if i could be his other half. I cried so much that day, happy tears though telling him yes I wanted to be his stupid nerdy girlfriend. Now we’re engaged and ready to get married in late 1989 or early 1990. Time really does fly.

He climbs on top of the bed grabbing me holding me tight like he always does. He leans in, locking our lips together in a kiss that lasts an eternity. I tighten my grip on his bicep running out of breath, desperate for more. He stops the kiss only to kiss me with more ferocity and passion.

He covers us in our blanket once again touching our foreheads together keeping his hand on my face staring hearts into my eyes.

“God I love you so much Y/N” He kisses my forehead, shutting our light off.

11:45PM: Me and Kirk fall asleep in each others arms ready to start the next day together as one.

[jellazticious]

“You can’t rush art”

I think everybody can recall the quote from Toy Story 2. From the most satisfying part of the movie where we see a montage of Woody getting restored by a toy maker. It’s one of my favourites too, I absolutely loved looking at the different procedures used to fix a single toy. The toymaker’s precision and care were found mesmerizing by everyone. As a multi-hatted artist, one that can draw, sculpt, animate, and write, I can say that it’s spot on that there’s so much to do for a single piece of work. HOOO boy, you should see how me and Beefy are organizing Cursed to Charm, there’s so much.

For the upcoming webcomic, we design characters, give each and every one of them their stand-alone story, design different clothes, create the map, draw renders and posters, polish scripts for the episodes, plan to program the comic’s own website, make the backgrounds eventually, etc. To people who aren’t artists or take art for granted, to them, art is stroking a paper using a pen and BAM instant masterpiece. No no, it’s more than that.

Another thing I’d like to say about the comic is that the progress is very slow yet very fruitful because of the time taken. Me and my co-author came up with the idea at late November, which makes the comic four months old now. However, with all that time passed, we have already finalized the list of nine episodes of season one. We have also written seven out of nine summaries from that season before actually writing the dialogue in detail. We have a rough four seasons worth of story progression in the span of four months. Nyeh, excuse the little ramble about CtC, I’m just giving insight of how much should be done for the production of anything which leads us to the next point.

Art production in general.

Movies, animation, shows, video games, books, comics etc etc

All of these are part of art, some people would deny because it isn’t sophisticated like they’re lead to believe art is supposed to be. Art is literally just creation man, can’t get any simpler than that 😩 if you made something, then you made something woohoo! Congratulations you made art, cooking included. It came free with your fucking humanity.

Anyway, just like the webcomic, every single one of these listed also have a set of different procedures that will piece together the final output.

Let’s take Disney movies as a specific example, I want to talk about something real quick.

So one time, I was watching Tarzan with my parents and we stuck around for the end credits. My mom pointed out the animators are divided into sections and there’s so much names on them. There are different teams of animators for each character and these teams are divided in two for the storyboarders and the clean up artists. When the credits rolled a bit more, it showed that the background artists and colorists also have their own sections too. There’s so much people working on different body parts of a movie. I got the habit of reading end credits of every movie I watch, animated or live action, then I would compare the credits of old and new movies. Boy, let me tell you that the work space on old movies are FILLED compared to newer movies. One thing I noticed about Disney movies although, is that the old movies have more sections compared to new ones. The major difference of old Disney and new Disney are the length of the credits and the time gap of the movies. I’m really not trusting the way new movies have way shorter end credits while the publish time of new movies are getting narrower and narrower. Before the 2000s, movies usually come out twice a year and sometimes there’s a two-year hiatus before the next batch of movies are published. Now there’s at least two or three movies that publish yearly while also releasing a bunch of shows in the middle of it. I really don’t understand business talk with the way it sacrifices quality over quantity. Like I get having money is great and all but what’s the use of hoarding it? Especially when there’s so much news of people about to be in poverty and mass layoffs. Why should companies earn money if they’re not going to redistribute it back to the economy at all? This is a little off topic but I want to point it out that people in the 80s used to buy whole houses by being a janitor but nowadays people could barely afford a one room apartment even with three jobs. The Simpsons is an example of this because it was set in the 90s and the family is constantly reminded of how “poor” they are. They even created an episode that talks about the same job that supported people’s fathers will no longer support you nowadays (Poorhouse Rock ep22 s33). It’s fishy and I’m salty about it especially because I hear so much people complaining about how they’re not being given a chance to work. Anywho! Let’s go back to art.

I’m just spitballing my thoughts here but somehow they’re connecting either way. All I’m trying to say is that for the people who care so much about the quality of art, it’s noticeable that they get downgraded, not just by the look but by the way they’re written.

Example.

Clone High.

Jesus Christ, the new show is a nightmare and an insult to the original Clone High. The difference is clear with this one. The original Clone High was heavy satire of every single high school trope used in shows and movies. Every single character was meant to have one personality and that personality is the butt of the joke. The original did not care about making the characters appealing because the appeal is found in the way they interact, they clash so much and a lot of them are idiots. The writing is funny because the dialogue flows so easily unlike the renewal. The renewed Clone High takes itself too seriously and it tries too hard to be relevant. It’s funny to me that fans can draw the original’s art style more accurately than the animators hired. What’s even more frustrating is that concept art was released from the art head and the concept art looked way better than what they decided on the final designs. Other than the art style that tries to be marketable, the writing is insufferable with the way they try to be “relatable” without understanding why the original jokes were funny to begin with.

Now we’re all familiar with this cheap tactic of using the title of successful franchises to grab clicks and views. It’s every live action Disney film, it happened to Scooby Doo, Marvel shows, FNAF, some Cartoon Network shows, Megamind, and now even Kung Fu Panda. Basically MILKING. It would have been better if the productions TRIED to understand the original’s intentions which they forgot about. They ended up being disappointing at best and soulless at worst. I won’t be explaining much cuz I’ve already reached the minimum word count lmao. I’m just rambling here, I better not see anyone interrogate me in asks or replies. ANYWAY, I’m gonna get to the point real quick.

Back to the quote at the start of the post, people tend to forget that. Art is a skill, not a button people press and it gives you pretty pictures or videos. Art is a job and an effort. While art is subjective and it differs from person to person, one thing for certain is that art that is made ingenuinely will never be better than art that is made because the artist loves art. This is why the Tom & Jerry reboots with the lineless art style even if they had a storyboard artist who understood the cartoon wackiness (which were discarded for a “cleaner” and faster style). This is why it’s so frustrating to see concept art of movies which have more appeal than the final 3d models. This is why FNAF Security Breach was nearly unplayable.

Because they all rushed art.

They rushed in favour of what is marketable, no matter how unappealing it is. Everything could have been better, some final products are good, but all of them could have been better. As good as what were released pre 2010s when production had a passion. You can’t spell heart without art.

I’m just really passionate about art in any form since it’s everything that created me too. I will not be here at this point in time if it weren’t for me learning that there’s so much beauty in the world if you could just squint and appreciate why that’s so. I’m defined by my works and it only hurts and infuriates me that people who have the ability and accessibility to create better art than I do waste it for their personal gain or selfish intentions. Everyone could be a better person because of art just as it did to me. Again, it came to us the moment we’re born, art isn’t just a pretty picture, it’s everything we create out of love, passion, time, and effort.

But really, to the wise words of Chef Saltbaker, “like any good bake, heart and soul is the secret ingredient”

You can’t rush art.

[claudemblems]

More William cause why not ;)

Prompt: placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered

Content: Includes the tiniest bit of spice but still very much sfw! Very fluffy :3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sometimes William wondered what would end up being the death of him first: his line of work or your teasing.

Grading papers proved to be quite the difficult task, even more so when his skin was being littered with a myriad of kisses, each one more tantalizing than the last.

What was even worse was that he didn't want it to stop.

"Darling, don't you think you can save the affection for after I'm finished here?" William asked with a shaky breath, closing his eyes in an effort to ground himself. "I have to get all this homework graded by the end of the week."

He felt your lips curve into a smile against him, his skin becoming covered in goosebumps. "So you have until the end of the week to take care of it. Surely you wouldn't be spending every minute pouring over these papers. You can set aside time for a much-needed break, can't you?"

Oh, he could, especially if it meant he could feel your lips on him for even longer.

But he had to focus. It would be irresponsible for him to procrastinate on something he could finish right away. Besides, if he found himself head first in another murderous scheme, he'd have no no leisure time left for at least the next several days. Then, he'd be unable to return that week's homework to his students, and the university staff would not be pleased.

But William was pleased having your lips trail lingering kisses along his jaw, so maybe, just maybe, those papers could wait...

His mind began to grow hazy as you kissed along his nape, and every nerve in his body felt like it was being set alight. It was as if his very senses had gone haywire, your affections sending him into overdrive.

"Love, I know you want my attention but I—!"

A tiny gasp left his mouth as you kissed just below his ear, and though he was facing away from you, he could picture the grin on your face as clear as day.

"Oh, I can wait, William," you whispered against the shell of his ear, grinning even wider when he shivered, "but can you?"

He was not going to have a productive day after all.

Admitting defeat, William dropped his pen onto his desk, pushing the stack of papers into a messy pile in the corner before he turned to you and opened his arms, extending an invitation for you to sit in his lap. You took it, of course, all while wearing a proud smile.

He settled his hands onto your waist before leaning in for a kiss, sighing in a dramatic fashion. "You will be the end of me. That I am sure of."

"Well, would that really be such a bad way to go?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck and sneaking in another kiss there. "Being drowned in kisses from the one you adore?"

"If that is how my life should end," William replied, "I'd die the happiest man in all of London."

"Is that so?"

"But then again, if I'm dead, how will I be able to enjoy your tender affections?"

"I wonder if the people of London would still call you a terrifying criminal mastermind if they found out just how sappy you are."

"Ah, but it is all part of the plan, my darling. If I scare off all the potential suitors, I shall be the only one left for you to gaze at."

"As if I could ever love another."

William smiled, burrowing himself into the crook of your neck. "If you keep saying such things, you'll be found guilty of stealing my heart."

"Well then," you said, threading your fingers through his hair, "I suppose that makes two of us."

"Hmm. If I'm in a good mood, I won't turn you into the police."

You replied with an over-the-top gasp that made William smile. "You would never turn me in!"

"There's always the chance, but I'd be willing to bargain to keep your crime a secret."

"And how could I buy your silence?"

He laughed against you, the sound reverberating in your own chest. "Well..." And then he looked up at you with those soft, gentle eyes, ones that shone with a mixture of mischief and innocence, "I can't admit your crime if my lips are too busy returning your kisses, but I'll let you decide if that offer is enticing enough to accept."