#how about you let me just look at the synonym list and let me choose the most unhinged one like god fucking intended

[nerice]

i am going to kill merriam webster

[radiant-reid]

Truth

Summary: Reader knows there’s something going on between JJ and Spencer but she trusts him that that’s just the way they are... until he goes to LA

i cannot find the request for this, ugh !!! 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Word Count: 3.7k

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Y/n had let it go after that night.

"You're not seriously upset about this, are you?" Spencer asks incredulously once the apartment door clicks shut. 

It had been an incredibly awkward car ride together, twenty minutes home in complete silence. He hates when it gets cold and distant between them, even though he usually causes it by neglecting to discuss his feelings, but this time, he's fired up. Y/n can't read if he's dumbfounded or shaken. 

Although often synonymous, there's a difference here. If Spencer's dumbfounded, he thinks her suggestion is ridiculous and totally, 100% wrong. It would be offensive wording but best for the preservation of their relationship. If he's shaken, then she's correct, and he's coming to terms with the significance of that discovery himself.

Y/n sighs as she spins around to face him, her plan of making a beeline to the bedroom falling through. "That was flirting. She was flirting with you, Spencer." She tells him firmly. 

Spencer shakes his head, stunned by the allegation she's choosing to repeat. "She was- are you okay?"

"Don't make it about me." She instructs. 

"It's about you when you're talking..." Crazy is the word he stops himself short of saying- they both know it. He breathes deeply to calm himself. "She wasn't flirting with me." He maintains. "We're friends." 

Y/n shakes her head. She knows he needs it explained to him, simplified to an extent, but upholding his position so staunchly doesn't make her want to do that. "You don't have to best track record for knowing when people are flirting with you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, his eyes narrowing. 

There's a specific incident she's referring to, but there's been more than a few annoying instances when she's left standing at his side fuming. She's aware he doesn't do it on purpose. Spencer's not an asshole purposefully trying to make his girlfriend jealous by accepting flirtatious behavior from other women, but he's handsome. And unfortunately, not immediately rejecting advances makes it seem like he's interested.

"Spencer." She had told him when she finally pulled him off to a slightly quieter corner of the bar the team was in. "Her asking you what you're doing this weekend isn't her having an interest in your Korean film festival."

Spencer had been much better at getting it since then. He profiles a bit more cynically, purposefully looking for indicators that someone's interested in him. 

Not tonight.

It was Michael's first birthday which, of course, meant it was a big celebration- BAU style. Spencer attended like the proud godfather he was, making sure every single one of JJ and Will's friends knew their son's achievements. 

What should have been a lovely day would have turned into a discussion about them having their own kids when Y/n expressed how attractive Spencer looked while he held Michael's hands so the boy could practice walking. 

But no. 

Instead, they're standing on different ends of the kitchen island, both uncompromising in their views because of more than a few moments at the party between JJ and Spencer. 

"She was flirting with you, Spencer." Y/n holds firm. "Touching your arm, giggling at your jokes, whispering stuff to you." She lists the frequently used tactics that she witnessed. She's become accustomed to them working on Spencer, but he has always admitted, upon later reflection, that the motive was more than friendly.

He can't believe it this time, and he quickly gets defensive. "Just because you don't think I'm funny doesn't mean everyone doesn't."

Y/n scoffs, irritated he would twist it so spitefully to play the victim. "Seriously?" She deadpans, waiting for him to react better. 

"It was an inside joke." Spencer tries a different tactic that only has her eyebrows raised again. He sighs dramatically, gripping the edge of the bench. 

"This is ridiculous." She states. 

"I'm glad you see that too." He argues. "JJ was not flirting with me."

His insolence further fuels her anger. "Even Will looked uncomfortable." Y/n hits back.

"She's my friend." He repeats. "We are their friends. JJ and Will have been married for years. They've lived together and raised a son for even longer. I'm their sons' godfather. She's been my friend for more than a decade. There's nothing malicious going on."

It didn't feel like that. And that was likely because Y/n had only gotten to know them years following their friendship's establishment.

Maybe he's right. It's feasible that Y/n just hasn't found her place in the dynamic. "Are you sure?" 

Spencer senses her walls coming down, and he steps closer to her in a few tense strides, cupping her cheeks in a way that makes her melt. His eyes soften until there's no anger remaining. "Yes, my love. I promise there is nothing romantic between JJ and I." He assures her.

It's so sincere. Spencer has always been a persuasive talker, and it's gotten him out of dangerous situations.

Maybe the deep gut feeling she has is off. There's no way to know what happens behind closed doors, but JJ and Will appear to be happily married. Her life seems completely fulfilling. It makes no sense for her to have a crush on Spencer. 

So she's determined to shake it off- for Spencer, her own sanity, and their relationship. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to such a drastic accusation."

"No, no. Hey, I will always listen to your feelings." Spencer reminds her softly. "I'm sorry I didn't immediately hear you out. It was just unexpected. I would hate for you to stop talking to me about your emotions if you think I'll shut you down."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," Y/n replies.

His words are massively relieving, and her negative thoughts aren't weighty. "I love you, Y/n."

She smiles softly. "I love you too."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been wanting to for hours." He begs, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. He's elaborating a little but for good reason.

"Please." She agrees. 

His fingers curl around her head while he leans down to kiss her, not breaking it until they're both out of air. Everything's okay.

And so Y/n had let it go after that night.

She was with him through everything. Dealing with his mom, Mexico, prison, and the long recovery after that. She was with him through thick and thin, even when Spencer had given up on himself. He'll never understand what he did to deserve her love, but it means everything to him. She's the calm presence in amongst his chaos.

No issue in their relationship has been too hard to tackle when they worked together through Spencer's personal problems so well. Nothing between them seemed insurmountable since Spencer's life was so tumultuous.

When he gets home from his case in LA, she's in the bedroom, checking his suit for Rossi's wedding the next day is in perfect condition. The ironing is crisp, not a single wrinkle on the fabric.  

He usually calls out when he enters the apartment door, both so she'll reply, and he'll know what room to navigate to, and so she doesn't freak out about hearing footsteps on the floorboards. 

This time, he doesn't. 

It's like his brain got torn out and is still sitting on the floor of a little jewelry store in downtown LA. His thoughts remain entirely occupied by the previous day's events. Even though the jet home was long, he didn't sleep for a second. It's 7 am East Coast Time now, but it feels like just a second ago, his world got rocked.

"You're back!" Y/n grins, still unaware of the grave news he's bearing. She searches through her jewelry box for a piece to complement her dress. Her final moments of blissful ignorance. "Okay, so I was thinking you might need to nap before the wedding since it'll probably go late- I mean, you know Rossi."

"Y/n." Spencer whispers, trying to stop her from spreading joy and being the life in his life. He absolutely does not deserve that, as he lies by omission. He speaks weakly on purpose, wanting to listen to her excited ramble despite knowing he needs to be honest and say something that will crush her.

She doesn't hear him, and hasn't looked at him hard enough to see his devastation. "But your suit is good to go. I've got some other stuff to do, so have a nap, and I'll have lunch ready when you're up."

"Y/n!" He snaps much too loud. 

Her eyes flick to his, and she knows something drastic has changed. Her stomach drops in dread as the air in the room turns stale.

"What?" She asks cautiously, voice wavering. Her heart thumps in her chest. "What is it, Spencer?"

"JJ said..." Spencer trails off, looking straight past his girlfriend. He's not brave enough to look at her directly. 

No more explanation is needed for it to click. 

Her whole world gets shattered instantly, everything she built with Spencer, every dream and hope she had with him, is destroyed in a second. 

Her stomach stays dropped so low it feels like it's weighing her down and that she could be physically sick. She feels paralyzed until tears start streaming down her cheeks. 

"Oh." She whispers, although it's as loud as a jet engine in the silent room. "Wow. Okay."

Spencer wanted more than that. He wants her to scream at him, telling him he should have stopped thinking he knew everything and listened when she was suspicious. Spencer would take any range of passionate emotions over the silence she's giving him as she processes it. He begs with his eyes for her to tell him what she's feeling. 

It's to no avail. 

He thinks he's getting somewhere when she stands up, that maybe she'll hug him or enquire about the cut on his hand. 

"What happens now?" Y/n asks, ignoring her own tears and his. She always cups his cheeks and wipes them up gently because seeing him in pain pains her. That's how love works.

"Y/n..." She needs him to say more that time. Her soft-spoken name leaving his lips is bad news.

She forces herself to nod and swallow down her distraught tears. "It's okay. I know." It would hurt to hear him admit it, but she might think he's not a coward. 

Now Spencer's paralyzed, watching his nightmare play out in front of him, and he's incapable of preventing it, of making her stay. 

Her delicate, shaking fingers unclasp her necklace, and the 18k gold chain with an 'S' pendant burns a hole in her hand before she thrusts it into his. 

It's warm against his cold hands, a sign it's not where it should be. It's supposed to be daintily sitting on Y/n's chest, near her heart, for the rest of forever.

"No." He finally says, gasping a breath out. "What are you-"

She cuts him off before he talks for too long and causes her to remain so in love with him that she can overlook a massive problem. "You love her." She voices what they've been dancing around. It's an ugly, hurtful truth. "You might be in love with me, but you love JJ more than you should."

Spencer shakes his head, frantically denying the claim they both know is factual. As awful as it is, he's thought about a future with JJ on more than one occasion and during a long-term relationship. It's not that he wants to be with her- which would be a complicated mess and break everyone involved hearts- but something between them remains unresolved. All because of two tickets to see the Redskins.

Y/n speaks before he can, tilting her head upward as she tries to brush back some of her tears. "Don't lie to me, Spence. Please don't." 

He figures he owes her that much. Nothing he could say would fix the torpedo that ripped through their relationship. So he doesn't protest or fight for their relationship as she readies to leave him.

"I'll go now and get some stuff once you've gone out." She decides.

Her stuff which means she's planning on separating everything, and he'll never see her things again. Never mind the possessions- he might never see her again.

There's no point in making a case for her to come to Krystall and Dave's wedding when she only knows them through him, but Spencer isn't sure how he'll be able to sit through a ceremony and speeches and dinner and drinking and dancing- where everyone's feeling the love- when all he would have been thinking about is how it should be his turn next. It sounds like torture.  

Spencer stands there, horrified and helpless, as she slips past him. "Goodbye, Spence." 

And just like that, she's gone. 

It's surreal. 

Surely- surely- the love of his life hadn't just walked out the door and left him. That can't have happened.

He doesn't even feel overly tired, but he must be so sleep-deprived that he's imagining things. Having visions is a less scary thought than Y/n leaving. 

The surreal feeling and eerie silence deepen, and he quickly collapses on the couch from overwhelming fatigue, hoping the past hours have been a terrible nightmare. 

When he wakes and calls out for Y/n, quickly realizing she's not there and his worst fear has come true, Spencer sobs. He cries so much through getting ready for the wedding that his cheeks are blotchy, and his eyes blood shocked as he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks terrible, but he feels so much worse. It's emptiness. His eyes look dull, his hair scruffy, and his heart aches. 

Her dress is still there- dark blue that compliments his suit, but it's matchy-and it hangs in the wardrobe on a coat hanger from the dry cleaner, taunting him. Spencer's hand comes to cup his mouth as panic and nausea rock his stomach. Y/n should be wearing the dress and beside him the whole afternoon while they celebrate love. Something's amiss, and he hopes no one calls him on it because he will, without a doubt, break down in sobs.

Germs feel permanently on him, and he's guilt-ridden. Sure, JJ's words in LA weren't his fault, but- fuck- he should have said something to stop the love of his life from walking out under the wrong impression that he loved someone else.

He makes a beeline for Penelope at the bar to avoid being around JJ and get some alcohol in his system so that maybe everything will hurt less.

She looks pretty, but Will gazes at her like she hung the moon, and Spencer quickly realizes he could never feel that way. Her glances across the room at him piss him off, whereas Y/n's would make him blush.

"No Y/n?" Penelope asks, looking disappointed when he walks over alone. 

That's the reaction his amazing potentially-ex-girlfriend inspires in his friends. People love her for her warmth and humor, and Spencer's sure the team is grateful someone's making him smile. 

"Unfortunately not." Spencer grimaces as he gets the lie out. "She's sick." Or, more likely, bawling her eyes out at her friends because her boyfriend is a jerk, Spencer figures. He would feel worse for lying if it were possible. 

"Oh damn, I have heard there's a bad flu." Penelope easily believes the lie.

"What are you making?" Spencer asks, redirecting the conversation to the cocktails she's expertly whipping up. 

The wedding is small, which Spencer's sure is appropriate for a fourth or third round 2. It feels wrong to be there without Y/n. If he's eventually going to have one of these with her, surely he should be looking at the flower arrangements while she notices hair options. Not judging, just getting ideas.

It would be nothing like JJ and Will's wedding. Y/n would hate a surprise wedding with no choice in decor or food, even though it's romantic in theory.

He could never marry someone like JJ. He could never marry JJ. 

She's a real person. That seems to be a fact he keeps forgetting when he thinks about a future with her. She can't be the idealized version of her from his 24-year-old self's fantasy, and with her sitting no more than 20 feet from him, he's positive she's not who he's compatible with.

It's worse at the speeches. Emily stands with perfectly crafted words, and Spencer's almost in tears when the story verges from being Dave-and-Krystall specific.

"...that this was fate." His running thoughts halt at Emily's words. "...that their marriage was in the stars."

That's him and Y/n. They lived a block from each other in DC but had to travel three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean to meet. That's fate. He recalls her laughter when he joked that the universe got sick of them not finding each other and forced them together. And the subsequent, love-filled conversation where they decided soulmates, and twin flames, must be real because they are the embodiment of the term.

Rossi is always a high-roller at Vegas casinos. There was no doubt he'd meet a blackjack dealer. It's not fate the way he and Y/n are fate.

He's always been sure she's the one, but this is the ultimate determining tool.

They have to be together. Spencer and JJ had bottled up their crushes without voicing them for more than a decade, and that's why it messed with his brain so much. Emily talking about confessions taking time to work out is not about them.

His fingers play with the tablecloth as he drafts a speech of his own, one that will set things right. He's too antsy to enjoy the rest of dinner or dessert. All he's thinking about is how soon he can leave- of course, after wishing the happy couple well. 

Spencer knows where she is. The doorbell camera already notified him when she had arrived at their apartment, which might now be an invasion of privacy.

It's a bit of a drive to get home, and he's thankful he stopped at one cocktail so he wouldn't do something stupid, like yell at JJ in front of their friends. As mean as it sounds, he doesn't have emotion to waste on her. It's all poured into love for Y/n. 

He doesn't have time to wait for the elevator, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Y/n!" He calls out as soon as he swings open the door. His heart pounds in his chest thanks to his poor athleticism, but mostly because this is the most important thing he'll ever do in his life.

"Yeah?" She replies, her voice coming from the bedroom as she steps out

She looks heartbroken seeing him, destroyed by the damage he caused over the last ten hours, and there's no way this can be how he leaves her, that this can be the last time he sees her.

"Don't say something that hurts." Spencer can tell Y/n's trying to be firm, but she's begging. There is no way he can ever hurt her.

"I won't." He swears. It's tense, and he feels award standing there. "Y/n, I-"

"I told you." She reminds him, referencing one conversation he's been thinking about. She was so good at dropping it after he offered her unknowingly untrue reassurance. Her plan to let him do the talking flies out the window, and she can't help releasing the brewing emotions. "I knew she loved you and hoped you didn't love her back. And now everything is fucking mess, and I just didn't think that you would do that."

"I don't love her that way." Spencer declares, and he doesn't feel guilty because he's not lying.

Y/n rolls her eyes. "You owe me the truth."

He tentatively steps closer, and she doesn't stop him. "I don't look at JJ and see my future. She's not the person I think about when I see an old couple walking down the street. I don't know the songs she listens to when she's sad or the correct amount of syrup she likes on her pancakes. I don't know the number of her childhood home or favorite piece of art in the Met. I'm not sure if she sings in the shower or if she ties her shoes with two loops. And I don't want to know any of that. You're the only person I ever want to know that personally. I don't love her the way romantic love works. But I didn't know that until I met you, and the very first day, I realized it was different. I know you said that, and I am so sorry I convinced you not to listen to your gut."

Y/n's crying by the end of his beautiful, naturally spoken words. He rushed to get it out, and she processes it for a minute. "Okay." She decides, accompanied by a choked sob.

Spencer frowns because he can't read her properly. "Okay?" He repeats softly. 

She steps forward, which has to be a good sign. "I need you to kiss me now." 

Spencer's crying too slightly as he closes the gap between them, cradling her face like he might shatter her in his palms. "Okay." He whispers, closing the distance between their lips without wasting another second. It's heavier than usual, holding a thousand unspoken words, but it feels like a resolution.

He holds her long after they've run out of air, finally feeling like he can breathe now that he's home.

"I am so in love with you." He tells her. "There is no one else I could ever be with."

She smiles softly back at him. "I'm in love with you too." She replies. "And this suit... you look very handsome."

He smiles widely. "You're the most gorgeous girl in the world." She doesn't bother reminding him that she's been crying and looks washed out. Spencer will forever insist that she is perfect. "Can I take you to dinner? Because I have missed you."

She nods. "I'd love that. And I have the perfect dress."

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[m0llygunn]

2, 14 and 20🥰

Sorry for the late replyyy!! I wanted to actually put thought into this, so it took a minute! Thank you for the questions Francy!!! <3

2. When you’re writing a new story, what is the one thing you need to know before you can start? I'm not sure if there's really one thing I need to know, usually everything I write starts with a concept, or builds off a one-liner piece of dialogue. Like when I wrote A Job Well Done I started with just knowing I wanted reader to be asking Eddie those invasive 'balls' questions because I thought it would be funny lol

14. What’s the one word you can never spell/use properly, no matter how hard you try? Definitely and immediately ( just used spell check, and spelt 'immediately' so wrong that it wasn't showing up) I don't know what it is about those words but I cannnnnnnnot spell them for the life of me

20. What is your best piece of advice for writing smut scenes? SUCH A GOOD BUT HARD QUESTION (and why I took so long to answer this) and basically I have to put a read more lol

I feel like I could have a lot to say and this could potentially fall into the ‘those who can’t do, teach’ realm, but I’m fine with it. Mostly because I hardly consider myself a writer, like, it's something I do, but it’s not what I am. I think more than anything I am a learner. I like to learn new things, and in this case, I learned everything I know from reading other people's work. Most boring piece of advice: read. Find your favourite piece of smut, and study why it's your favourite. For me, something is usually a favourite because of the vocabulary — fun words used, pretty words used, there's creativity in the words, there's variety, etc. I am a sucker for good words.

I think the biggest tip for this is looking up synonyms. Usually I write what I want to write first and I let myself be as repetitive as I want, and then I go back and change words that get repeated too often. I don't have as big of a vocabulary as I would like, but vocab is so easily hackable by looking up synonyms for words that you do know! (My testament is that I went to grade school in french but grew up in an english household, so basically I suck at both languages, and have to put in a lot of effort looking up synonyms, like you guys would never ever ever give my drafts the time of day lol)

Also, a fun little thing that I do is a very unorthodox version of research called turning to reddit. For example, if I’m writing a blow job scene, I’ll google something like ‘best blow job you ever got male perspective reddit’ and I’ll read a bunch of replies, pick and choose descriptive words that I like, add it to a list, then write something using said words. It's fun. It’s like a game. I enjoy doing it. You learn a lot (too much sometimes, but the ‘male perspective’ component is an added adventure and helps with variety and novel outlooks!)

But yeah. Sooooo rambley lol, and I don't know if this is actually helpful, but it could be a fun smut writing exercise to try!

[yanisdoingstuff]

I saw this reblogged by @uiolot and got inspired. Since I'm not posting much, I decided I'd answer some questions for main characters, C and Joy. WARNING VERY LONG

✨ — For Joy, I wanted it to express his upbeat demeanor, so I just googled synonyms for happiness, went through some, and it popped up in my head. Though I recently found out it's commonly used as a female name lol. It also became his mother's trait to give her children weird names with special meanings. As for C, I scrolled some male names to find one that sounded like him and shortened to one letter for ✨mystery✨.

🌼 — Joy is 16 and C is 17! Could never tell you what happened the day

🌺 — They have each other! Aside from that, C had his first “relationship” a few years ago with a toxic guy (though can you realistically not be toxic as a ~12-13 boy?), a blond cocky bastard. It kinda grew as a reference to me choosing between several looks for C. At first I wanted him to be blond, with curly hair; his ex got the 1st, Joy's human design got the 2nd. Joy also had a few crushes, even including Haru, but it never went anywhere (and thanks god, I never intended to, this man is way too old for him xd).

🍕 — Joy is probably burger with fries typa guy. Anything flavorful and colorful would be to his taste, but he's not too picky since his mom's cooking was always awful. C definitely likes meat and bread of any kind. They share love for sandwiches, soda, hard candy and pastry, especially buns from Snowdin when C tries them.

💼 — They're both high-schoolers, so nothing yet. C used to work in his father's butchery shop before the Underground, but it was less of "making a living" and more of a "one day you'll inherit my business dear son so I'm training you instead of letting you enjoy weekends properly".

🎹 — Joy travels around the Underground and draws a map of it. He sometimes watches Haru's family anime collection, reads adventure novels, listens to pop music, dances, and plays mortal combat-ish games. He also just... likes to yap. A lot. Anything to tire himself out really. C never had any hobbies because of being busy, so he just sticks around. Adventuring and exploring in general is interesting to him. They'd probably like DnD if they knew about it.

🎯 — Joy yaps and dances like a pro, hehe. C has the MC ability to solve any problem on the way. He's mostly collected, sharp, and is able to get out of most situations if time's given.

🥊 — Joy loves chatting, finding time to meet friends, seeing his elder brother a lot! His hobbies name it all. He only hates household chores, especially doing dishes, anything related to water (he can't swim) and being Haru's target during his training sessions. C likes working with people, reading books, but feels uneasy spending time with monsters except Joy. As to why... We'll see. I can't really come up with anything he'd purely hate... Like, cleaning toilets, not that's what everyone hates. Following other's orders and tasks maybe?

❤️ — Joy's best memories before the main story are related to his elder brother, Piper. They barely meet each other these days, which makes it double special. They're close since childhood, talk about everything that bothers them, watch silly movies... They can even just sleep in the same room and be happy. C's happiest memories are probably about the family farm, when he was little, played with piggies (under guidance, we all know how scary pigs can be) and didn't know where meat comes from. Since meeting Joy, the cutest moments they had were definitely added to both's lists.

✂️ — This topic is secret until the episodes come out, but let's just say they're also related to the couple's relationships. Besides, both struggle with parents a lot. Joy has arguments with mom, C hates dad, perfect match.

🧊 — Joy's is, though at first I pictured him wearing glasses on the forehead for more adventurous look, but it doesn't make sense when you're half-blind lol. His jeans were slightly different in fit. C, aside from early choices I mentioned, had changes in boots (before they were just generic boots) and pants (same... I have troubles with pants) and was gifted a lil garter belt cover for his weapons. I also got inspired by Hunter from TOH and Vaggie from HH — strong protective characters with trauma 😊 — and gave him a hooked nose.

🍀 — Joy was at least 70% self-insert. So I can say he's inspired by my own awkwardness? Also my desire to yap and the idea of comforting teen relationship. A tiny bit of any sunshine character I've seen in media (Charlie in HH, Tails in Sonic franchise, Luz in TOH, etc etc...). C is pretty generic, I admit. Insert him in any 1st person/unnamed protagonist game. Frisk heritage right here. But in looks he's heavily inspired by Manlybadasshero 'cause he's the true protagonist of every story.

🌂 — Joy is Disney channel series or teen dramedy. C is rpgmaker yandere game or PS1 horror with a sprinkle of slice of life when he's on the pacifist route.

💚 — They're both cisgender boys and gay! (Probably would be trans-inclusive, but not familiar with the concept enough to identify as such).

🙌🏻 — C is the only child. Joy has seven!

🍎 — As I mentioned, Joy quarrels with his mother a lot. He doesn't feel needed, and in his eyes, mom suddenly stopped loving him when he was little and only needs him for doing dishes from time to time. His dad is simply absent. Still technically in the family, but always stuck in his workplace, also since Joy's childhood, barely seeing his kids a few times a year. No conflict with him, but not much love either, it's neutral. C's in very bad relationship with father due to the amount of work and it's violent nature. And he's just old in general. «These damn kids» guy. As for his mommy, I'm sure they're fine. I imagine a very patient, warm woman he was sorry to leave like that.

🧠 — I love Joy's cheerful, yet awkward personality. He helps me cope, especially with my situations at home, school stuff and sexuality topics. He doesn't know anything, he's a baby!! 🥺 (he's actually a nice smart guy, as mature as an introverted 16 yo can be). As for C, he's just my ancient Undertale protagonist idea I still cherish. Also a secret for later, but... He's the “I fucked up — I fucked up more trying to improve the last fuck up — I learned and did it better from scratch” trope. He has a lot of skeletons in his closet he still thinks about and grieves over. He may turn VERY flawed at some point. And I love bad people who are truly sorry in the end.

✏️ — Not too often, but I like sketching them and writing the detailed script for episodes when I have time. Also the whole project! It will come out eventually, we all say in unison.

💎 — Definitely not Joy, he's staying. C... Who knows. He's also important, probably not. But I swear I wouldn't about every OC I've ever had before one day deciding they're not fit for my grown brain anymore and getting rid of them. So we'll see.

💀 — Not phobias, but fears in general. Joy is very much afraid of death. It's a taboo topic for most people, and in his family it's not spoken about along with many other things. Seeing someone dying or hearing about it (only including fresh cases) might be straight up traumatizing for him. They're both afraid of being left alone, for C it also means losing Joy as the story progresses.

🍩 — Lora! The new queen of the Underground. She's the main antagonist in the whole AU. There are temporary enemies too, especially for C. You'll learn more on the process.

🎓 — For a year and few months. Such a long journey, hehe.

🍥 — I was 16! It always feels weird to outgrow your characters. I'm almost afraid of losing touch, heheh.

Maybe I'll participate again with other characters I have. That's fun to ponder certain things about you children, especially while they're in development.

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

[lone-wolf-no-more]

The World is a Scary Place...You Can Handle It!

Friday, March 10th, 2023 [Day 13]

Still easing in to riding the bicycle. Don’t feel too keen on riding on these streets, even on the sidewalk. Too many blind spots at street intersections and driveways. Hopefully I can get over to the bike trail sometime soon. As it is, the nearest connection to it is just over a mile away, and that’s a mile with parts that don’t even have sidewalks for me to go on. Drivers are a bit delirious and crazy around here at times, so I’m so sure about venturing out that far, even if I was capable of it.

Spent a good amount of time today both with refining the trading plan, and watching more videos on trading. Another conclusion I’ve arrived at with that: less is more. I cannot approach it with a 9 to 5 mentality, and expect that the more I stare at the charts, the more I will make. Nope. It doesn’t work that way. It’s more like, there are certain days of the week, and certain times of those days that will work the best for me, and I will focus on them exclusively. Because there is one thing I keep hearing from other traders who are way ahead of me: the best traders trade less, and just stay consistent and disciplined. And an extension of that idea is that the most successful people are really good at a few things, or even just one. And not only that, but they get more and more selective within their own field of work or entrepreneurship (and life in general) about what deals they go after, what friendships and connections they choose to make, and circling back to what I was saying before, what’s really important to them. And that last one (what’s really important) helps drive their decision about all the other stuff in that list.

Inwardly, I’ve been trying to stop and catch myself when I do the “It’s been___months/years since I did this/saw this/talked to this person/this happened”, because I know that’s most likely coming from that negative “looking backwards” mentality. Because honestly, at this point in my life, basically freaking anybody in my position would agree I have more than enough discomfort and restlessness concerning my current position and circumstances to motivate me to change things ASAP without also unnecessarily (yet again) tapping into pain from the past. I don’t know why my brain insists on being so obsessed about dates and how much time has passed, or whatever, but it’s honestly getting very...old. Wow, our concept of time (whatever time is, we don’t really know), is so prevalent in the way we talk, isn’t it?

Especially after what took place yesterday, I’ve implemented a practice for when I go to sleep. No matter how tired I feel, I will at least feed my brain some positivty before going to sleep (espeically with my hyper-active, vivid dream creating brain) by at least just saying words with the positive feelings and future I want to have. So, let’s say I’m too tired to say something like, “Why am I so positive and enthusiastic about the future?”, or “Why are my thoughts and dreams so positive and pleasant [or peaceful], hopeful and happy?”, I’ll just say, “Happiness...Hope...Positivity...Peace...Prosperity...Healing...Hope...Creativity...Calm.” See what I’m doing there? It’s quite simple. I choose words that are easy to remember that are what I want my thoughts and dreams to be while I’m sleeping and in bed, and choosing pairs that are both synonyms and have the first letter. This makes it easy for my brain to remember them and chain them together.

Also been more seriously thinking about how ticked off I am about all the lies mainstream media is giving us, and how it’s been hurting folks, most especially children (hello “emergency use, experimental” gene therapy). And I’ve been wondering how do I do what I love, and make the impact I want, without “getting canceled”, basically. Like, it makes no sense to get all obsessed over fictional worlds and characters (or even real people who I look up to) and how heroes make a difference and stand up for the weak, and those who can’t speak for themselves, and just live life on the sidelines, collecting money and personal trophies, so to speak. Yet another thing I need to give more serious thought before too long.

Toodaloo...

[imsammyclaflin]

Sam: I think that is one of my worst qualities though, I trust people too easily and ended up getting catfished. Now, I'm still optimistic but a little more guarded. Nothing sucks more than getting excited to talk to someone that you really like just to find out that they're not who you think they are. Still, my catfish was really fun and they made me laugh but yeah, it wasn't who I thought I was speaking too. Now, I've got my wits about it and asked for photographic evidence this time :P Sam: They usually are synonymous for most people but as you'll learn about me, I'm clearly an enigma. I made lists and itenararies for vacations and then end up not using them in favor of being spontaneous, I like pineapple on pizza, I am terrified of lizards but love horror films. Instead of going to parties, I'd rather stay at home by the fire with a good book or someone who can carry on a conversation. I don't like most American chocolates and the concept of most sports baffles me. Oh? How so? Sam: Oh course mate, you didn't think it had anything to do with you being extremely charming and handsome, right? It was merely a ploy to get on your good side so you can hype me up for the next film :P Sam: That is oddly specific and I know there's a story there that you are absolutely going to tell me about. That's one way to look at it, even if I am my own worst critic, I maintain that Finnick was the perfect role for me and I'll die by the sword on that one. I didn't believe that then but I do now. Hmm, let me think. Sam: If you could live in a different country for a year, which country would you choose?

Chris: I mean I thought we were int he age of where trusting was yes a novelty but a respectable quality? Alright I did make it to this age with some street smarts alright. Thanks for the tips on white vans though, I mean they sound alot of fun if they have both those things in them.

Chris: My apologies the record is promptly adjusted to be awkward not uncomfortable even though some call them synonymous. I am not going to validate the notion we are in different circles other than we inherently live on different continents. Same I will say this is the easiest conversation I have had in a year maybe even years. Though it produces more adrenaline in me if I do say so.

Chris: Shit you really are being my friend for a Disney role arent you? I knew there was a reason you were being so nice and rather adorable.

Chris: Alright but just dont do anything embarrassing like walking a ferret around the fair. See even if it wasnt what you would deem a perfect performance you were still in the best role for yourself and Im sure people loved your performance more than your perfectionism would let you think. I think the next question is yours.

[phoenixtakaramono]

TUT:

I was translating a few mobile game screenshots to joke with my friends when I realized that in both English and my language airplane tends to be a fusion (portmanteau?) Of different words. Is it the same in pinyin, and are there conclusions or misunderstandings Luo Binghe can take about the meaning of Airplane's complete name, especially since he did not see the characters, just heard SY speak the word?

(This is in reference to The Untold Tale ch3-4.)

DISCLAIMER

So keeping in mind that while I do speak Mandarin Chinese almost 24/7—and that I’m not well-versed in other Chinese dialects (Shanghai, Guangdong, Beijing, etc)—I do live outside Mainland China and do not consider my Chinese as good as those who live there. I am also not well-versed in traditional Chinese (there’s simplified characters and then there’s traditional characters, and then there’s pinyin). It is also somewhat difficult for me to explain the Chinese language to someone who doesn’t speak/ read it, but I will attempt to do my best to articulate my thoughts!

With that out of the way, it’s a bit difficult to say for sure. I’m going to have to defer to Chinese linguist experts but from my understanding as a modern Chinese woman, there is some potential uncertainty when it comes to Bingge hearing Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s name by ear only.

AIRPLANE SHOOTING TOWARDS THE SKY

Let’s examine the penname:

Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky

向天打飞机

Xiàng Tiān Dǎ Fēijī

Some context for those who are unaware, this is the equivalent of a dirty d*ck joke. It’s Chinese slang. It’s innuendo/ double-entendre. (I say this jokingly but Airplane was being a cheeky writer to choose this as his penname. It’s like if you used a double-entendre like “Giving You Blue Balls” just to be cheeky. Bad example, but you get the point. But considering his claim to fame is a “stallion novel” aka harem novel essentially—the best Western equivalent…hmm, think of all the trashy Harlequin romance novels, but the male protagonist gathers a harem—it’s a weirdly fitting name.)

Now let’s assume Luo Binghe is uncertain of the exact written Chinese characters. So, listening to Shen Yuan say “Xiàng Tiān Dǎ Fēijī” by ear, he hears (I’m going to give the literal translation first, followed by some approximate synonyms):

“Xiàng” (向) which literally means “to / towards/ (go) up/ ascend”

“Tiān” (天) which literally means “sky/ heaven”

*”Dǎ Fēijī” (打飞机) which literally means “jerking off” lol (slang)

But Luo Binghe being a protagonist of the xianxia fictional setting (ancient pseudo-historical fantasy China) is reasonably not going to know modern slang. So losing that connotation, if we look at “Dǎ” and “Fēijī” separately:

*“Dǎ” (打) which literally means “beat/ break/ hit”

**“Fēijī” (飞机) which literally means “airplane,” a word made up by combining the characters 飞 (fēi - fly) and 机 (jī - machine)

*Da is a homonym pronunciation-wise. Other similar pronunciations are, for example: 大 (dà - big) and 达 (dá - attain/ to reach).

**It might be because I’m a modern woman, but nothing immediately comes to mind for other homonyms for fēijī. Why? How is an ancient man going to know what an “airplane” is? Luo Binghe has never even seen an ✈️.

Jī means machine. So, how is he going to know what a machine is? I mean, *theoretically*, since this takes place in a known fictional setting, as a writer you can handwave it and say “yeah, they still totally say ‘machine’ in this world.” Other homonyms ji can be jí (and/ to reach), jǐ (to supply/ provide), and jí (namely/ that is), etc.

For fēi, I’d think he’d probably cotton on that it’s the character for “to fly.” Fei also has homonyms too (ex. fēi - to not be, fèi - to cost/ spend), and can also be a surname/ name.

And keep in mind that all these aren’t even ALL the similar sounding characters that I can list. There’s so many!

CONCLUSION

I’m going to bite the bullet and say a potential misunderstanding Bingge can come to, hearing the characters by itself only and not seeing the written characters: Go up to/ ascend to + the Heavens + Big / Older (indicative of his rank) + Feiji (his misassumption that this is Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s actual courtesy name). It’s a pretty long and lofty title + the actual name of the immortal deity who f*cked up his life starting even before Luo Binghe’s conception.

Feiji is a pretty…unusual “name,” if you think about smushing fei + ji together. I hope this answers your Ask, anon!

Any Chinese linguists 👇 sound off below in the Replies~! I was typing this at 10:20AM while I am carpooling on the freeway to get to work, haha, so I do have some brain fog.

*EDIT (9/10/22): It has been brought to my attention a similar sounding misassumption could be 肥雞 (féi jī - fat/ fatty/ thicc chicken). 🐓 I’m lmao-ing. (I’d personally use 胖雞 páng jī - fat chicken if I wanted to call someone a fat chicken, but 肥雞 (féi jī) works too! I’m gonna use this for something; thank you, Theia!

[starlessea]

Ultimate Guide to Proofreading

Here’s the next installation of my writing tips series!

[Just a quick disclaimer: this isn’t meant to discourage anyone! We are all still learning. These are just some tips you may want to consider when editing your writing].

As a language / linguistics student, I tend to focus on the grammar, or just the overall presentation of my writing. Obviously, if you’re writing online or self-publishing, without a beta reader that is, then no one is going to scrutinise you over the small things.

However, it can elevate your writing SO MUCH if you simply proofread it. Often, I find myself taken out of the immersion of a story because a typo is so glaringly obvious. Most of the time, we can gloss over them and they don’t impact the reading experience too much - but if your work is littered with small errors, they tend to pile up.

Proofreading is an easy way to get your readers to stick with you - and it often doesn’t even take that long! You just need to know HOW to proofread, and it will save you time. 

1) Spell Checkers

I know this seems really obvious, but I read so much work that could be improved tenfold just by being copied-and-pasted into a spell checker. You can literally type ‘spell checker’ into Google, and use an online service.

Personally, I use Google Docs. I just Ctrl+A, Ctrl+C, and Ctrl+V my work into it - and it will underline the spelling mistakes in red, and the grammar errors in blue. 

It’s as easy as that.

2) Consistency and General Grammar Points

This section is by NO MEANS an exhaustive list, but I’ve just compiled the things I’ve noticed the most when reading online. 

American English vs. British English:

This one is quite self-explanatory. If you’re going to use American spellings, then use them consistently throughout - and vice versa with British. Some common ones to look out for include:

color / colour

neighbor / neighbour

humor / humour

(US/UK respectively)

I found a good article here that gives a more comprehensive list.

Homophones or the Question of Verb / Noun:

You may want to double-check that you’ve used the right form of a word (verb / noun) - especially if they sound the same. 

affect / effect

hoard / horde

practice / practise***

*See this article.

allowed / aloud

were / where

I know these can sometimes get a little tricky for non-native speakers - especially since English is really quite a weird language. But these are the most common errors I’ve picked up on.

A lot of the time, things like Google Docs won’t spot these - so it’s good to be aware of the TYPES of errors you’re trying to find.

Also, remember that Google Search is your friend. I can’t even count the number of times I look things up when writing - THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. It doesn’t take long to check if you’re using a word in the correct context, or the correct form of the word.

Showing Possession:

A lot of people tend to get confused about using the genitive marker, apostrophe ‘-s’ to show possession. See the examples below:

[Disclaimer: don’t judge my name choices...]

Jade has a bag. That is Jade’s bag.

Jade Simpson has a bag. That is Jade Simpson’s bag.

Jade Simpson lives with her husband, John Simpson. They are the Simpsons.

That is the Simpson household. That is the Simpsons’ house.*** 

*This is the one most people struggle on. There are two Simpsons, so the apostrophe comes at the end to show PLURAL possession (i.e., belonging to BOTH Jade and John).

This is Jess. That is Jess’ bag.

Here, the above can be written as Jess’s, but the extra (-s) usually gets ellided if it is following an ‘s’.

Another thing people get confused about is its/it’s. 

In English, ‘it’s’ = a contraction of ‘it + is’ (NOT TO SHOW POSSESSION). ‘Its’ is the possessive form in this case.

E.g., The dog lost its collar; it is brown = The dog lost its collar; it’s brown (the collar is brown).

Punctuation Consistency:

Personally, I don’t mind what style of punctuation you use. Whether you put your full stops INSIDE your quotations, or OUTSIDE;

E.g., “Go away.” vs “Go away”.

or if you sometimes like using hyphens in place of a comma; likewise with capitalisation, and whether you decide to capitalise certain nouns etc.

But, whatever you choose, BE CONSISTENT WITH IT.

You don’t want to give your readers whiplash by changing styles every couple of lines. Otherwise, it’s like you’ve chosen one academic referencing style for your essay, only to switch it half-way through. It’s confusing. It may seem like a nit-picking point, but people will notice it - and it’s good written practice to focus on being consistent.

3) Formatting:

Dialogue:

PLEASE PLEASE start a new paragraph/line if SOMEONE NEW IS SPEAKING.

Your readers will be so confused if you don’t properly distinguish who is speaking. It takes away from the reading experience when you think one character has said a line, but it turns out to be another. 

Don’t just rely on “[...]” John said. We should know if someone new is speaking by the format, not just the name that follows the dialogue.

Paragraphs:

Don’t let your work be one block of text. Break it up and make it more digestible for your readers. Try to start a new paragraph for a new topic, place, thought, etc. You can find some really great guides online that go into more detail. Personally, I think it’s quite a stylistic thing - but you should still be consistent in how you choose to establish your paragraphs.

4) Other Things to Look out For

Detography: Have you written a word twice?

Pronouns: Are you using the following correctly?

their/they’re/there

your/you’re

Tenses: Are you sticking to the same tense? Are your verbs all conjugated in the same tense? Do you switch tense half-way through?

Repetition: Are you relying on the same words a lot. Are you using the same verb / descriptive word very close together?

For this, I just make a quick Google search:

E.g., “said synonym” or “angry synonym” - it adds variety to your writing.

Character Names: This seems obvious, but make sure you’ve spelt them correctly throughout - same goes for place names etc.

5) READ YOUR WORK ALOUD

I really can’t stress this enough. Even after studying language, literature and linguistics for as long as I have, I still miss so many of my own errors if I don’t read my work aloud. My editing process literally involves:

Write the draft

Read over the draft and correct any glaring errors

Copy and paste into a spelling/grammar checker

Re-read the new work and edit again

Read aloud and edit as I go

Final read through

Obviously I don’t do this every time - but it shows just how easy it is to miss mistakes when you’re still finding them during step 6.

6) Bribe a Beta-Reader (or a Friend)...

This is a really helpful step if you are able to find someone willing to check over your work. Often, we become blind to our own writing after we’ve read over the same thing a number of times. It can be really useful to get someone to take a look at it with fresh eyes!

Disclaimer: These are just some things I’ve noticed that I tend to look for in my own work. Also, I want to make a point of saying that English is a strange language, so please don’t be discouraged if you’re a non-native speaker feeling confused. I still get confused!

Also, please feel free to ask me any questions! I might not always be available to give a full beta-read of your work, but if you have any queries relating to grammar etc., don’t hesitate to drop me a message!

[zellie-pdf]

How to Improve Your Vocabulary

Word of the Week: Assiduous: (adj.) hard-working, diligent

I believe that artists (writers, musicians, illustrators, etc) are the most self-destructive people in the world. As a writer, I'm forced to battle myself. When I use apps such as Hemingway Editor (an amazing app/website that helps you write clearer, more concise sentences (The website is linked here!)), I realize that a lot of my writing is at a "fourth-grade reading level". Fourth Grade? You're joking, right? The years I've spent writing and rewriting my book, editing, and polishing—all of that amounts to something a fourth-grader would read? Not that I'm bashing younger people and/or people with lower reading levels, but I wanted to at least make it to a middle schooler's reading level.

Read more?

How do I do that? Expanding my Vocabulary. The benefits of doing so are endless: - I'd sound more intelligent - My writing would be more challenging for an elementary schooler to read - It would improve reading comprehension - It could land me that job I've been wanting - I could think by using more intelligent language

Okay, enough rambling about me overthinking my own writing. How does one expand their personal vocabulary?

1. Downloading a Word of the Day app

I've found that using a word-of-the-day app helps a ton. To make it even better, I use Quizlet to study every word I've learned in the month. If you don't have enough storage or you just don't want an app, there are tons of word-of-the-day newsletters and content creators. I'm following a few on Instagram to add to my Quizlet collection. So, what does a WotD app do? Exactly what it sounds like. It sends you a notification with the word and definition of a large word. The one I use lets you choose between three levels, based on your vocabulary already: Beginner, Intermediate, and Advanced. (Here's the link)

2. READ AND WRITE

This one seems pretty obvious. Reading books (or Tumblr posts!) helps you to see words in context. A lot of people recommend classics since they use bigger words. Honestly, just read whatever you want. If you need some classics for beginners, though, here's a list! The Great Gatsby (208 pages), Animal Farm (130 pages), and Frankenstein (280 pages). ^ I consider those for beginners because they have fewer pages than, for instance, Emma by Jane Austen (432 pages). I might make a post on classics for beginners... hm. Anyway, just read to your heart's content! Writing can help you improve your vocabulary, too. After reading so many books with tremendous vocabulary, you can put them into your own writing. You should also keep a dictionary or thesaurus handy while you write. - Write in a journal to start out! Instead of saying "My day was good." Look at your thesaurus and see some synonyms. "My day was spectacular, exceptional, superior, satisfactory, acceptable, adequate, delectable, brilliant, etc." This brings us to our next tip.

3. Keep A Dictionary/Thesaurus

Listen, I'm not saying you have to keep a massive book in your bag. All I'm saying is that these come in handy, especially when reading/writing! Plus, you can literally keep one on your phone. If I'm not mistaken, most phones come with one. And you can download one if you'd like! It can be a cutesy one or a heavy metal-themed one. It doesn't matter, as long as you use it! The point is, using one will help you speak and write better.

4. Practice using new words in conversations.

WARNING: This only helps if you become very familiar with the word! Using new words you've learned in conversations can help you memorize them and consciously put them into your daily vocabulary. Plus, it can make you sound smart if you're not an asshole about it. And if someone asks you what it means, just calmly explain it to them (ahem, don't be an asshole)

I hope this helped. Follow me for Words of the Week (I know they're not as frequent as words of the day, but it might help, just a bit!), and feel free to request tips or to give me some! I'm always open to constructive criticism.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I respectfully disagree with your last post (as an author). I’ve been in this fandom for 6 years and noticed it’s a little bit toxic when it comes to certain issues that should be normal and obvious to anyone.

I don’t get the “I choose the people I want to take criticism from” part. Ok, so why posting your work on a public page for independent writers where every subscriber will be able to read it and comment on it? Just send it to the people whose opinion matters to you and have a discussion about your work with them. If you post your work on a public page made specifically for independent writers, you are automatically posting it for everyone on that site. And every person has opinions on things and feels invited to express it if that particular thing is public and comments are open (I’m talking about respectful opinions, not slurs and offending someone).

If it was only for you and the people you actually want to get feedback from then wouldn’t it be easier to create an “élite” group where you read your work and then discuss it together? Because your post sends a very negative and exclusionary message to people that are reading your work for the first time or without knowing you as an author. It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.” Then don’t post it. But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post. And constructive criticism is just an opinion too as long as it doesn’t contain vulgarities, you don’t have to listen to it. Other’s opinion shouldn’t change the way you feel about your work but you also shouldn’t make them feel uncomfortable and bad for expressing it in a respectful way on a public page.

I know that authors on AO3 aren’t paid and that’s just for fun, but that’s what every page like AO3 is about: putting your work out there for other people to read with the possibility to express their personal opinion in a respectful way (I mean, you CAN disable the comments). Why making it public and then complaining and making other people feel bad for expressing their opinion on it? It’s not a diary or a personal Instagram profile.

So, first off, thank you for saying you respectfully disagree with me. I appreciate that you’re trying to be polite. 

There are many different ways I can answer this ask, because there’s a lot to discuss here, however, I’m exhausted by this conversation and have tackled it many times before, so I’ll link things when I see fit and get straight to the point.

My question for you is this: What is the purpose of you posting negative  (even though well-worded, polite, and tactful) unsolicited comments on a person’s fanfic? Why do you do it?

That’s not a rhetorical question, I really want you to think about the answer, because, for something to be called “constructive criticism” (which is specifically what we’re discussing here, versus the opposite “destructive” criticism) there has to be a point beyond just the fact that “it’s a public forum” and therefore, you feel entitled to express your opinion, whatever it may be. (That reasoning, btw, is called entitlement. No one said you weren’t allowed to have an opinion, but if you’re saying it to the author with no constructive, bettering purpose behind it, then at worst, your intent is to hurt them, which is just mean, no matter how politely you word it, and at best, you’re saying your opinions and preference take precedent over the author’s own.)

There are three reasons that I assume one can have when posting constructive criticism on work/art:

1. You want to help make them be a better writer, both now and in the future. 

I, and other fellow authors, explain why this doesn’t work here and here, and there are more posts about it like this one, if you need to hear it from voices that are not from the Larry fandom (which I assume you do, since you said this is a little bit toxic here particularly.) 

I encourage you to read all those posts, to get a better explanation in context, but the gist of them is this: for something to be truly constructive (synonym: helpful), the source, the timing, and the tact is key. Let me demonstrate: There is a difference between telling a friend while shopping, “I wouldn’t buy that dress, it’s not the most flattering on you,” and saying, while you’re out at a club, “Oh, that dress isn’t the most flattering on you, I wouldn’t wear it again.” -- Both are honest, worded politely, and both will achieve the same outcome: she will not wear the dress again -- but only one of them will cause undue stress, embarrassment, and self-consciousness (under the guise of being helpful), and that is all due to tact and timing. At the store, she can change into something else, and won’t assume you think she looks awful the entire day while you’re out. At the club, the damage is done, there is nothing she can do to change it, and you’ve just ruined her night.

The same goes for writing. I have seen people gracefully and willingly rewrite their entire first drafts based on astute and even harsh comments on their work, by their betas. I have never seen someone take down a fic and edit it based on a piece of constructive criticism given by a stranger on AO3. What I have seen based on that scenario, is people taking that criticism to heart and reflecting on whether or not they ever want to write again, because when they made themselves vulnerable, some people looked at it as an opportunity to ask for what would cater best to their own tastes, instead of appreciating the work as a true product of the author’s personal feelings and experiences. That results in less writers for the fandom, less content, and a whole lot of undue discouragement which is not something we want (nor is it actually constructive).

2. You want to engage the author in a deeper discussion of their work.

This is in direct answer to this part of your ask:

It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.”

You feel passionate (both positively and negatively) about my work? That’s lovely. I say, start a discussion with me. Ask me questions. Learn why I made those decisions. A discussion starts with an invitation to have a conversation (two ways, you say something, I say something, rinse repeat). It doesn’t start with “I didn’t like” or “This could have been better if”, and it certainly doesn’t start in a public forum, like the comments on AO3, where the writer runs the risk of looking like a defensive asshole. 

But India, you say, what if I don’t have the means to have a private conversation/the writer doesn’t have tumblr/they’ve long since been inactive in the fandom? The answers are, respectively: leave a polite comment asking if they’re willing to discuss, if they are willing to discuss, leave a polite comment asking how to contact them, and if they’re no longer active, find other friends with which to discuss your feelings in private.

But India, that seems like so much work. It is, flat out. But if you really felt that strongly about something I wrote, you would make that effort to understand it. Otherwise, why not just walk away?

3. You don’t know better.

I found this part of your ask extremely interesting:

“But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post.”

The reason I found it interesting is because it means that there are people who assume that all work that is public was made for them, to suit their tastes, which is, frankly, a bizarre way to consume art. I do not go into The Louvre, look at the Mona Lisa and say “I don’t see the hype, it’s not something I would hang in my living room.” I look at it and think “What does this piece say about Da Vinci and his life? What has this brought to the world? How has this helped people/art/culture?”

(No, I am in no way comparing my talents to Da Vinci, I am not delusional. But, I don’t think my work deserves any less thought than that of a professional artist, simply because I’m an amateur and it’s on the internet and not in a gallery, and you have the superpower of anonymity.) You asked me what the point was in posting my work publicly if I didn’t want to hear every single person’s personal (negative) take on it, and the answer is this: I post what I write publicly, because I hope it helps someone. I hope my thoughts, feelings, experiences, loneliness validate someone, entertain them, help them through a tough time, bring them comfort. I post because I want to invite people to lose themselves alongside me, heal alongside me, dream alongside me. 

(Notice how I said “someone” and not “everyone”. How I said “someone” and not “an élite group that discusses my work”, because yes, I do hope that my work positively impacts someone outside of my betas, my friend group. Does that mean someone can leave negative comments on my work? Yes. But should they? That’s a different question.)

I know my work won’t be a positive experience for every single person, but my goal was never to be relevant to every single person. So, my question is, if I’m not relevant to you personally -- if my work doesn’t touch you personally, heal you personally, entertain you personally, why not just walk away and find something that does? Who does your negative opinion really help? How is it constructive? What is its purpose? Why do you do it?

I will apologize for this, though: I spoke on behalf of all writers, and maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have been clear that though many writers feel this way, not all do. There are some, such as, I assume, yourself, who do view negative comments on AO3 as constructive, whether or not they are solicited, and I’m sorry to have spoken on behalf of you. However, I do still stand by this, though: it is much better to be kind than be right, and that definitely goes for comments on fic.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist

You and Clark make the most of your time together and you clear up some confusion.

Warnings:Adult situations, Smut, Fluff, swearing

A/n: soo here is some Clark smut I have been working on hope you enjoy xx

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @iloveyouyen​ @magdelen69​

Home Sweet Home

Over the past months since you had returned home Clark hadn't managed to get out to you as much as he wanted, silly really you had no problem with it. But he couldnt help wanting to spend every moment of every day with you. He still made it out every weekend without fail. Tho he was cautious ,used to being able the fly in to his mother popping in and out whenever he pleased, but he couldn't do that with you not if he wanted to keep up the apearance of being a regular human. One who had to make a three hour journey to see you over the weekend, he had a system in place making it seem like he left work on friday and came straight to see you then left sunday early evening to get back. Each week you told him he didn't have to make the trip and each week he'd laugh it off telling you to stop being silly, if only you knew the trip took around a minute.If he was having a slow day. The worst part of the week was waiting around his mothers few hours before crossing the field to see you. As terrible as it seems sometimes he is thankfull that Superman is needed it makes the time go quicker.He tries to busy himself but most of the time he just waits it out in his mothers kitchen he had tried staying in the city but prefered being closer to you.

 Just hearing the lull of your heart thumping away, or the soft humming you did singing when writing listening to music through your heaphones put him at ease. Sometimes if you had your headphones up loud he would sneak across and watch you work smileing to himself at the cute 'bopping' you did when you really got into a song a few instances getting up from yourseat having a little dance when you made your way to refill your drink. You rarely wrote around him saying you didnt want to waste the time you had together on work. Which was a shame, there was the other smaller things you did that made him smile the way you'd poke your tongue out wetting your lips as you concentrated or furrow your brows when a word escaped you,you'd start listing rhyming words out loud just replacing the first letter until one fit and made sense. He had learned early on when he crept over to make sure his phone was on silent as you'd text him occasionally asking him for synonyms when you couldn't manage to find something that fit.

But his absolute favorite bit was when you would squirm and blush, aroused at your own words, he'd hear your pulse pick up watching as a flush rose across your face you'd normally sip at the ever present coffee or juice that sat beside you, or nibble on the snack you had beside your computer. Something about seeing you work yourself up made him shudder. He would smell your arousal then suddenly you'd pull away from the screen fanning your face or covering it with your hands giggling whispering to your self 'was that to far' and 'lucky bitch I fucking wish'. He'd have to leave when this happend unsure if he could control himself. But when this did happen he always knew that when he came around you'd be biting at the bit to tear his clothes off and fuck him in the hall and on the stairs and the landing where ever you could, once it nearly happend on the porch... Not that he minded but you had freaked out when your lust addled mind heard the combine in the field and realised you was straddling his half naked form in just your panties on the porch. Either way times like that you rarely made it to the bed room. Well thats not strictly true you did once but that was because you lost track of time and thats were he found you, in bed legs spread hips rocking onto one of your toys. He had counted down the seconds that time sitting in his mothers kitchen tapping his fingers impatiently on the table watching the clock, willing time to move faster growling. Much to his Mothers amusment, she could guess what was going on and couldnt help but shake her head feeling a little sorry for you as she watched his face get more and more irritated ,reminding her of the tantrums he had as a child when he couldnt get his own way. His face glowered as he sat there and he listened to your wails of frustration as you desperatly tried to pound a climax out of yourself but couldn't. The only consultation was when he heard the various curses you threw at him turns out he had ruined you...And he couldn't help being smug about it. Hearing you from his mothers house trying to fuck yourself stupid was torture just like it had been that first night he met you. His mother had laughed the next time she saw you both saying she never saw him move so fast in his life, she had that knowing grin of hers as you both flushed and stutter..Martha had to much fun teasing you both making it worse she wondered aloud 'how there was any corn left in the field after the way he cut across it.'

He grinned walking up the stairs to the porch he juggled the bags of groceries opening the door to the house kicking it shut softly behind him slipping off his shoes as he entered. He smiled as he heard you the music from your headphones, you had been working tirelessly today making sure everything was finished. It was Sunday and to your own annoyance you'd gotten your dates mixed up and had to have your new draft completed and emailed in by tomorrow for checking then beta reading.

He walked into the kitchen dropping the groceries on the counter, choosing to let you continue your work. You'd had to send Clark out to do the weekly shop alone. He shook his head hearing you growl at the computer screen in living room. He sighed it was a shitty computer to be fair ,super slow and out dated. He didn't see why you wont just buy a new one, when he brought it up he always got the same answers 'everything is how I want it on here... I know where everything is...I know how it works'  he rolled his eyes hearing you grunt at the pc, turning quickly put away the groceries it was best to let you get on with it. It had only been three months since the party but it felt so much longer in a good way you were both absolutely enamored with each other, your relationship was very much sweet and cheesy but neither of you would change a thing. You'd given him a key five weeks ago to all intents and purposes this was his home to you'd even moved all the spare clothes he kept at his mothers and placed them in his own designated side of the walk in wardrobe so he didn't have to always bring a bag each week.

Finally once everything was packed away he stepped through the door to the living room seeing you sitting staring intently at the screen scanning the documents as you flicked the mouse wheel searching for something. He smiled taking in the rare sight he loved watching you work it was the only time you wore your glasses; which he found incredibly sexy even tho you hated them, you thought they made you look older than you were. You felt his eyes and turned to face him and blushed at the sweet smile he had, leaning against the door frame arms crossed he pushed off the door walking towards you. You smiled apologetically at him slipping off your headphones as he came closer.

"I'm so sorry honey...I feel like I've ignored you this weekend...I'm nearly done tho and will have a few weeks off as they proof read it" he shook his head at you

"Don't worry munchkin" he grinned at you and placed a packet of your favourite biscuits on the desk beside you leaning in kissing your head. Your face lit up as you saw them, dark chocolate biscuits covered in white chocolate...

"I got these for you and I was thinking of doing pasta for dinner" you hummed placing your hand on his forearm leaning your head against it as he moved rubbing your shoulders.

"But I do Clark..We dont get much time together and I hate having to work when your here." he sighed as you pouted at him.

"Well I love seeing you work...It's the only time I get to see you in these" you scoffed as he poked the rim of your cat eye glasses, rolling your eyes you shook your head"I hate them." he nodded

"You might but I think they are very sexy anyway you carry on and i will go put dinner on then we can relax for the night" you huffed stealling a glance at the clock in the corner of your screen. Three pm. you sighed youd been at this since ten this morning you had saved your drafts all over the place and had to re-read many of them to make sure you was sending the correct ones out.

"No leave it I will do dinner just give me ten minutes-" he stopped you in your tracks with a raised hand and soft sigh

"No you do dinner every week I'm going to cook for you tonight" you smiled at him. This man was so sweet you couldnt help the warmth flood you, he made you feel all weak and giddy. He made to move away but you caught his wrist making him look at you.

"Thank you...But I promise to make it up to you after dinner" a slow grin formed across his face you could feel his excitment mount and kissed your lips tugging your hair back forcing you to moan giving him the access he wanted quickly lapping at your tongue nipping and sucking at it grunting as you tried pinning his down falling into a teasing battle. Which he won as usual slowly and reluctantly you pulled back sighing, one kiss was enough for your stomach to twist and your center to ignite. he pulled away retreating to the kitchen with a wink. You licked your bottom lip and twisted in your seat to carry on moving the files around into order as you heard him move around the kitchen. After another fifteen minutes of checking and double checking you smiled and moved opening your Gmail and began typing one out to your publisher attaching the book in order chapter by chapter. After sending it you waiting for the sent icon then switched off your external hard drive that held all of your writing and back ups.

Just as you closed everything and stood at full height behind your chair stretchering out your legs, headphones still in place you sighed moving the mouse then swore loudly.

"You? what are-OH MY GOD NO! NOOO! no no please you cant- YOU DON'T DO THAT!! FUCK...FUCK YOU YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!" At your shouts Clark moved to the door watching as you frantically clicked your mouse he then saw the problem. A bright blue screen staring back at you. He shook his head he told you needed a new computer. You leaned further curseing as you computer died before your eyes.

"You-fuck you fuck you fuck you in the ass!" You growled and ripped off your head phones and sighed placing them on the desk glaring at the computer hanging your head sighing frustrated.

"That sounds like an invitation~" He moved quietly walking towards you and quickly sloted himself tight against your bent over form making you gasp cast a look behinde you going to stand straight but he stopped you with a slow hand pressing on your back keeping you in place making you flush. But quickly shook it off looking at the screen before you.

"Clark? Clark! oh my god Clark fix it- save it please you can can't you? is it salvageable? I swear you can fuck my ass if you fix it! " He laughed out loud at the way you casually offered your ass as collateral. He grabbed you placing both hands on your hips keeping you bent over the chair and looked to the pc.

"I'm afraid that is the blue screen of death...And I wont be able to fix it babe" He held you securely. You groaned at his remark whining dejected turning your face to him looking at the pc.

"Nooo... It can't...I don't want a new one!" you felt him hum grinding against you slowly. and just like that you were ready to go your blood pumping hot in your veins your pussy tensing preparing itself for the inevitable. You wanted to jump him there and then.

"Well I'm afraid you have no choice now munchkin, it has died" Your whine became a gasp as he moved finding a perfect spot to have you squirming, gyrating his crotch on your ass you shook your head and pouted. You leaned back as he arched over your form and kissed his jaw, wanting to make him as hot and bothered as you. He grunted humping his hips against you making reveling in your broken moans and breathless gasps. He felt your body humming to life withering against him.

"Wh-what am I gonna do? I don't know anything about this tech stuff" he smiled unable to resist moving closer to you letting you reach up and nuzzle his neck. His cock held snug between the two of you, so tight you felt him throbbing despite the thick jeans he wore, he groaned as you clenched your ass squeezing him lightly.

"Well I can help you there, I will find you a replacement" You dragged your lips across his skin and licked at his pulse then sucked harshly giving another firm squeeze with your cheeks making him moan Breathlessly. He fisted his hand resting it on the top of your ass. You giggled feeling him completely hard against your ass and wriggled hell bent on have a quicky befor dinner. He quickly brought his hand down making you hiss as the cotton did nothing to protect you from his open palm you whimpered when he kicked out your feet spreading your legs making you feel the damp cotton on your slit, your needy little center weeping onto your shorts now that you were held open. He smirked smelling your arousal then pressed harder. Not to be out done he tilted down pressing his balls to your mound searching for your clit and was rewarded with a high gasp as he found it. You jumped up trying to escape him but to no avail his palms held you still and the chair infront of you was wedged tight into your hips giving you no wiggle room. Without wasting anytime he moved insistently grinding on it relentlessly.

"Will-Fuck CLARK! will you-ca-clam down for a second?" he chuckled still moving against you in a teasing rhythm you sighed. That was your answer then.

"Cl-clark will the ne-oohh fuck please!" you begged quickly tensing holding the desk for dear life dropping your head hissing and grinding back on him as his jeans caused a delicious friction against your pussy. the rough fabric almost chafing you despite your shorts

"Yes love?"

"F-Fuck you! oh UGh! God please please? dont-YOur a shit! Will it be the same?" he huffed out a laugh enjoying the way you wriggled below him still trying to slip out from under him, dipping his face to you kissing behind you ear then huffed a deep breath to the shell of your ear. Your moans got higher and more desperate as he set a firm steady pace on your throbbing clit making you shudder your insides clenching tight with every drag of his hips. You were close he could tell from the way you trembled, legs unsteady the only thing holding you up was the back of the chair holding your hips high for him.

"I'm afraid not love, computer's don't come with xp anymore...How you have kept it running for so long I have no idea... Your new one will have windows ten" you groaned loudly slumping forward panting trying to push yourself back to him wanting to match his pace, or better yet beat it. You were so close feeling the heat pooling just above your pussy traveling down. You could feel yourself building fast and doubled your efforts unable to keep quiet as you tried to ride him into your climax with a frantic pace.

"OH OH-fuUUCK yes please please yes C-ClaAARK?!" you all but cried as he moved back just when you was about to cum. He chuckled patting your hip and retreated as you twisted round questioning him. You growled when you was met with a smug grin.

"Come on love dinner should be ready we can talk about it later for now lets try to forget it hmm?" you grunted and moved your hand to your shorts fully intending on finishing yourself off but he caught it shaking his head

"I dont think so~ you stay just as you are and we can continue after dinner" you gapped at him. What? you had to sit like this for dinner, blushing you tugged the shorts out of your ass he wrapped you up in his arms again kissing the top of your head. You sighed casting one last glance at the screen. There was nothing you could do tonight he moved back to the kitchen to dish up and you removed your glasses placing them on the shelf at the pc.

After dinner you found yourself putting the dishes away. He hummed twisting his head watching as you bent over to the bottom cupboard putting the pan's away. He bit his lip watching your tiny shorts rise up high almost disappearing between your cheeks, they rose high enough that it was clear you had opted to forgo any panties today... Fuck your ass was perfect. He was actually annoyed over the fact that he couldn't fix your pc, he would have definietly held you to your word. He licked his lips groaning as the creamy skin of the bottom of your cheeks peaked from the floral cotton shorts. His dick twitched uncomfortably in his jeans still excited from earlier wanting to just shuck down the flimsy shorts and use your perfect little body, fuck you till his heart content. He smiled slyly and silently he moved behind you. You squeaked as you felt him press himself tight against your slit and tugged pulling you out of the cupboard moving you into a slow rocking dance sucking at your neck, hands moving across your hips to your waist pulling your top up as he went catching the underside of your wireless sports bra, you didn't resist as he pulled them both completely off dropping them to the floor.

"Clark? whats gotten into you?" all you got in response was a dark chuckle by your ear as he bit at it making your toes curl and your heart pick up. You tried turning to face him but he just hummed at you smoothing his heavy palms back down across your skin cupping and pinching your already hard nipples still swaying slowly then trailed them to your waist making you shiver.

"I remember someone saying they would make this weekend up to me after dinner~" you shivered at the teasing tone he used and tried turning to him once more. Only for him to hold your pebbled nipples using them to force you still and grinded his bulge up and down the crack of your ass.

"Yes but not in the kitchen!" he hummed then looked around and grinned.

"Why not? the only room we have left to christen~" his tone became low and reverberated through your chest making you groan as memories of all the different rooms you'd fucked in flashed through your mind. He was right kitchen and loft attic. You'd even fucked in the basement when trying to sort out the fuse box after a powercut. The old 'is that a torch in your pocket or are you happy to see me?' resulting in a quick fuck against the wall.

Before you knew what was what you were being sat on the dining table you blinked...How did he move so fast?. Clark cursed himself for letting his eagerness get the better of him but brushed it off, if he ignored it so would you. Hopefully. Before you could dwell on the movement he had pressed firmly against you, tugging your legs wide around him making you moan grinding against him. You were still wet and wanting from earlier and didn't want to waste time on foreplay now, squirming in your seat threw dinner had made you impatient. Too impatient.

He laughed as you grabbed a fist full of his hair tugging him down into a furious kiss trying to get your point across. He was quick to dominate your mouth he angled his head to kiss you deeper groaning irritated as the move made his glasses rub the bridge of his nose. Smiling you moved your hands up and pulled his glasses out of the way sliding them across the table. You took a moment to admire him, he was stunning you'll admit you loved him with them on, it gave him a shy and sweet nerdy vibe and made him less intimidating. But without them. My god he was breathtaking so fucking UGH! he looked like a sin itself and had the nerve to still have a boyish charm, that had your insides quivering each time he flashed a smug little grin. He had a face people would pay surgeons millions for and it was all natural! how the fuck?. You moved your hands to his face moving slow you rubbed the slight red on his nose where the glasses had rested, he smiled closeing his eyes as you did he always enjoyed your loving touches. He moved down to your face twisting down to devour your mouth again this time uninterrupted by the glasses. You grunted letting him do as he pleased with you even helping him when he shuffled moving his hands to the waist of your shorts, with a few quick tugs you were sitting but ass naked on the table. You felt him smirk into the kiss pulling back taking in the view of you panting, needy and stripped waiting to be ravished by him.

He moved fast shedding his clothes kicking his boxers off behind him then quickly tangled himself around you again bending one of your knees up placing one foot on the table beside you. Spreading you open for him, he swallowed as he saw your soaked center as much as he wanted to feast away at the puffy lips he was far to gone, his teasing eariler had him on the brink already he needed to be balls deep asap. He took the small steps towards you moving his hand probing at your wide open slit moving smearing your arousal across you, always checking before diving in he didn't want to hurt you. You screeched as he teased your boiling little bud, it felt ready to burst; you was ready to burst wanting nothing more then to fall apart at the seams around him. He moved closer still running the crown of his weeping cock across your center. Resting his forehead on yours watching with dark eyes as your mouth formed a perfect 'o' keening and mewling as he kept a fast pace on your clit moving from rolling and plucking the tight button then tapped it. You whined panting faster as his fingers toyed with you, moving you locked eyes with him. The heated gaze was what drove you into your first orgasm of the night, you loved when he watched you, it made you feel dirty and sexy. Your body froze arching up and quaking, shivering moaning high and broken. Just as you began to come down he moved to capture your cum on his cock running it across your spasming center dipping in slowly hissing as the heat scorched his swollen head."Best not let that go to waste huh babe?"you moaned loudly and bucked towards him unable to form words making him smirk watching you tremble as the small stimulation made your climax last longer your pussy fluttering trying to swallow him.

"F-FuUCK CL-CLark please please I..I can't wait oh-AHNO!...UGH-STOP te-teasing meeee" he chuckled against you pressing a chaste kiss to you then slowly he tilted himself before grunting thrusting into you making your give a strangled moan.

Tho you still struggled with his size and he had the internal struggle of holding himself back as not to use to much of his strength. You had both become more confident, he knew just how much you could take at once. He'd found that he wasn't the only one who enjoyed a bit of pain. You tried catching the breath he had just fucked out of you as he quickly forced himself into your tiny heat pressing the last of his cock into you, your body yielded accepting him slowly. You cried out as he finally settled himself.

"FUUCK! fuck babe your still so tight~ such a good girl for me so good...fucking waited all week for this, I hope your ready?~" you moaned at his words he held himself still gritting his teeth, he had to pull himself in taking a second to maintain his control lest he moved too hard and snap one of your bones or something. Finally he opened his eyes then with a deep breath pulled back and began a slow deliberate pace making sure to catch your swollen little bud on each upward thrust making you yelp and withered below him.

He always love the small little gasps you made, the way you tried keeping yourself quiet it always made it sweeter when he forced you to scream for him. Connecting his mouth to yours he swallowed your breathless pleas as he moved back and forth. You feel hot and prickly as your nerves ignited you felt yourself clenching him, muscles working overtime as he put your body through its paces yet still your wonton pussy was inviting him deeper ,fighting to spread your legs further for him. He smirked seeing the frustration in your eyes as you tried to open your legs further for him, he pulled you closer to the edge of the table making you fall back on and your foot slipped. His hand ceased your knee and held it high keeping you stretched out for him, once he was sure you were secure he moved faster groaning as your walls tensed clamping around him as he began to pound away faster and harder with jerking movements. You closed your eyes tears rolled down your face as he kept going driving you higher and higher making you body twitch and tense. You screeched as he moved one hand to your chest cupping and squeezing your breast then he pinched your nipple pulling making you arch up into him the movement let him sink further into you as he fucked himself right into your cervix; something that you now craved, you loved it feeling the tiny pop as he forced himself as far as he could go. The way as soon as he felt that happen he seemed to rut into you with renewed vigor, like a primal need to breed you overcame him. It always made you weak, pushing you into a lust fueld frenzy as you tried mtaching his pace.

"Fuck y/n uUGH SHIT fuck your so good SOOO FUCKING GOOD YESyes thats it....AGH CUM! Yesyesyes shit I-CAN haha YO-YOUR TRYING ARENT YOU?" He ground out and alternated between grinding harshly making sure to press his pelvic bone on your vulnerable clit, and fucking you beyond what you thought was humanly possible.

"I can feel it! UHHGG YES BABY FUCK! CUM CUM NOW!!" You Obeyed screaming out gripping the edge of the table and curled up towards him tense as he forces you into your climax you shook bringing up your other leg as you gyrated against him unable to control yourself.

"Fuck-OOOHHH GOOD CL-CLARK yesyesyesyes please dont-dont stop love dont stop AH!" you panted throwing your head back as he fucked you through your orgasm, he was quick to cup the back of your head so you wouldnt hurt yourself as you shattered around him. He wasnt far behind you, his own end was creeping up on him he could feel it in the way his balls tghtened, the way your body was cramping around him made his cock twitch. he movements became sloppy as he groaned louder and louder.

"Fuck...sh-SHIT BaBE I'M GOnna FUUUUUCK YES THATS IT TAKE IT!" you wept when he rutted up into you one final time. He swore feeling squeezing his eyes tight then bit his bottom lip as he felt his eyes warm the tell tale tingling of him loosing control again he held himself still tuckjngnhis chin tight to his chest willing himself to calm down as he filled you. You shivered as he released, finishing as deep inside you as he could get then he held still you lolled back you twitch feeling his thighs quivering against you. You moaned weakly feeling his hot cum shoot up into you and smiled at him reaching up for him. He sighed finally feeling the tingling in his yes recede then opened his eyes slowly looking down through halflidded eyes and smiled panting. He moved kissing your knee softly then nipped you winced at him grunting reaching for him, he chuckled seeing how fucked out you were and lowered his face kissing you deep it wasnt long as you were both still out of breath. You blushed running your hands across him making him shudder as your nails tickled his sides. . He moved over you his hands molding to your sides tucking his head into your chest breathing you in ,you blinked tiredly moving to draw over his back he moaned and relaxed groaning out.

"I love you woman" you moved and racked a hand through his hair scratching his scalp making him groan contently. You poked his cheek and held out his glasses to him with the other.

"I love you to baby...come on up" you said patting him he grunted and moved to stand and carfully dislodged himself from you making you wince. 

You tried to jump down and ended up yelping curling over holding your lower tummy. Although you may have both gotten used to sex and always enjoyed it, you still had light pain afterwards much to clarks regret. He looked down sympathetically

"Babe?" You waved him off and slowly stood straight resting one hand on his chest as he crowded you you whined taking a step which made him frown. This was what he hated about your size difference the hour or so of pain you endured after. He scooped you up making his way tothe stairs muttering apologies which you scoffed at, he moved to the bathroom medicine cabinet and pulled out some paracetamol offering you two. You took them quickly as he turned running you a bath. You sighed watching him fuss over you placing a towel on the heated rack for whennyou bet out and he added your favourite bubble bath to the water. He stopped leaning on the tub beside you.

"Im sorry, I try not to get carried away" you rolled your eyes

"I wouldn't have it any other way clark, I love you,I love our sex life! And besides its not as bad now as it was...we just have to keep at it....Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world now would it?" He smiled at that then placed you in the water sitting on the floor beside you. You giggled when he hissed as his naked ass touched the cool tiled floor.

"You know you could probably just squeez in with me~" he gave you a pout.

"Okay maybe not....we should get a bigger tub, a deeper one. One that covers my knees and tits!" He bellowed a laugh at that and nodded.

"I will put it on my to do list..really I've got to get some tools around here and make a start" you moved around the tub grabbing an exfoliating mit soaking and wringing it then began washing yourself.

"You got a wash cloth in there babe?" You looked at him seeing him staring at his glistening cock.

"What not do not tell me you have been using these ones? Clark? These are used on my face!" You gasped at him he just blinked at you

"I rinse them after" you sputtered at him.

"No! fucking get a new one from under the sink...The black one use the black one for that I don't want your cum on my fa- NOT A FUCKING WORD!" He snorted raising an eyebrow chuckling at your bright red cheeks and quickly got up fetching a new black cloth from under the sink and stood infront of it washing himself off still laughing out of the side of his mouth shaking his head.

"Any way what do you need tools for I'm not letting you change the bath over if thats what your getting at" you said moving to wash down your now soft legs. He kept his back to you but turned his head still wiping himself down.

"No I wont touch the plumbing, but the barn needs to be painted, theres a few loose boards on the back of the house and some tiles on the roof are missing, you also mentioned wanting a few planters out the back and a patio which would be nice for the summer then we can decorate our room-" he froze and blinked cutting himself off and took a breath.

"Y/n I'm sorry its just I'm so comfortable here and I forget this-" you cut him off as he tried to backtrack his own self consciousness rearing its ugly little head.

"So what did you have in mind for our room?" He looked at you stunned for a second trying to process what you said.

"You don't- I mean its not my house so" you frowned turning to him

"Look at me dumbass...My home is your home, you might not be here full time but its still your home. I thought I made that clear when I gave you the key. If I didn't then I'm sorry but I am now. Clark I'm in this for the long haul and I can see us making a life here together so why not have your input on the decorating we have lots of rooms to do as you can see I have only done the kitchen,  hall and living room.. The living room isn't even finished and don't get me started on the garden" he stood speechless he hadn't thought you felt like that, sure he stayed here and had made himself at home, he treated it like a home but for you to say it...It warmed his heart honestly standing there now he could see it, in years to come living here full time with a small army of your kids running... flying about the place between here and their grandma's house across the way.

"So what did you think about doing in the bed room I want to keep the paneling but lighten it up...make it fun you know? that dark wood is horrendous"

"Well I thought of keeping the wooden panels repainting them white to match the floor and on the wall above it having a really bright vibrant wallpaper like something tropical like the parrot wallpaper or just palms" You smiled nodding it was pretty much what you wanted but you was going to paint the wall above teal.

"I like the idea of the parrots that would be really nice we could have a tropical theme" he stood there grinning unsure of what to do with himself he was still reeling from the revelation that this house had become his home in such a short space of time and it truly was they always did say home was where the heart is he definitely understood what they meant now, his own apartment seemed empty just bricks and mortar.

He was kicking himself in a way, if he told you he was superman he could come home whenever he liked! Hell he would make the move and stay here full time tomorrow if he could, its not like travelling to work was going to be a problem. But no he decided he would wait until at least six months had past just to air on the side of caution unless something happened where he had no choice but to reveal himself to save your life, which reminds him he did want to let the league know who you were soon so they could watch out for you just like you were all doing with Bruces new girlfriend and her little brother. He jumped pulled out of his thought by you waving your arms around infront of his face.

"Ah sorry love what was you saying I spaced out a bit there" you nodded giggling at him he really had.

"Welcome back...I asked if you wanted to jump in after me? Im almost done" he shook his head at you

"No I'm all sorted for now will have a shower when I get back tonight. Now you stay up here and get ready for bed we can watch tv for a while before I have to leave. I will go and clean up downstairs and get you a wheat cushion" You moved your head from side to side contemplating

"Actually I was hoping to come back with you...Im going to have a few weeks off now before I have to start writing again so thought I could stay with you for a bit" his face lit up at the prospect of having you with him for a few weeks

"That would be great! We can get you a new computer...maybe a laptop would be better either way there's bound to be better deals in metopolis then you can get used to it by the time you have to start work again" you smiled nodding.

"Sounds like a plan what time is your train"

"Six fifteen we should be at the apartment by nine thirty" you nodded that gives you around two hours to pack a bag and get ready. He leaned over giving you one last kiss then left. You stared through the open door as he made his way to the bedroom, watching his pert ass as he moved you pouted knowing he was going to go throw on some clothes,it was a shame he had to cover that glorious ass. Once he was out of sight you laid back in the tub you couldn't wait to spend a few weeks with him and then to come home and start turning this house a home for the both of you.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 3 - Short Episode #8 “The Troubles of the Head of the Kazama Family” Eng Translation

This is my first post of the month, so I’ll start by asking you to please support me if you can through my ko-fi, and paypal or patreon which provides access to my hakuoki blog translations and early access to my postings. Also, please let me know if you have any hakuoki drama cds that you’d be willing to share that are on my Lookout List since i either do not have audio for those cds or do not have audio that I can share.... and if you are able to remove watermarks from a video, please contact me.  

no translation posts next week since my bday is next week and i use that as a break... hopefully i’ll finally be able to watch the a certain CxM stage play that i may have downloaded a while ago. tad surprised about how much music from the game i heard while i was skipping through the honpen file to check that it was working...   

anyway, enjoy~ also the punctuation in the tl i used doesn’t match that of the game so that will be fixed later. 

also im probably going to drop all yuugiroku 3 stuff aside from the short episodes given the amount of editing work i need to do (the translations im relying on seem to be missing some details).

The Troubles of the Kazama Family Head

Translation by KumoriYami

Kazama: Damn it, those Shogunate dogs!

Shiranui: Hey, I've come to play, it's been a while since I've seen you.

Amagiri: You've come, Shiranui, though this may not be a good time.

Shiranui: [Since this is] Not a good time, did something happen?

Kazama: What could possibly have happened?

The number of people who want to separate me from my wife has doubled/There are almost twice as many people trying to separate me from my wife now.

They're not just within the Shinsengumi, there are actually outsiders too!

Shiranui: Oh, so you're complaining that the number of enemies/rivals for love has increased?

Really, come on/forget it, you should give up/give up.

Kazama: Impossible!

Oni should be linked with other oni! And this would be the marriage of two leaders! What is there to hesitate about!

Amagiri: Was she not raised as a human? You asking her to accept the opinions/circumstances of an oni may be impossible.

Shiranui: Hey Amagiri, if you say something that provokes him, you won't be able to say anything

Amagiri: Indeed.

Shiranui: What kind of guys were added.

I know Sakamoto. Who are the others!

Kazama: Nagakura, Sanan, Yamazaki are from the Shinsengumi.

There's another of the Shogunate's dogs, a hanamoto named Iba.

Additionally, there's some useless youngster named Souma.

Then there's  Sakamoto, that frivolous man you know of.

Amagiri:......I feel that your introductions are too malicious/impolite/rude/weren't very polite.

Shiranui: I don't think he's aware of his biases.

Those people are protecting that female oni.

At least they're better than Kazama......

Kazama: What did you say! Shiranui, you need to pay attention to what you say to me.

Do you know who you are talking to?

Shiranui: I only stated my honest opinion.

Kazama: I am strong, rich, I have unlimited prospects/a limitless future, and am also from an oni clan. Why can't I compare with them/How am I unable to match them!

Shiranui: It's a different matter if that female oni wants that or not [might change to interested based on jp mtl].

Amagiri: Not all women pursue power and wealth.

Shiranui: There are many women who would rather avoid men with those things.

Kazama: ! Are you saying that Yukimura and I are not suitable for each other?

Shiranui: In any case, if that's what that female oni decides, I won't intrude.

Amagiri: Myself as well, were I not in this position, I would recommend that she choose another man to live out her life with.  

Kazama:......

Shiranui: What's wrong?

Can't we say this? You need to think about everything you've done.

Kazama: How should I change [then].

Shiranui: ！？

Kazama: How can I make it so that my wife does not look at those shady people, and marry into my family.

Shiranui: Wha!!!

Amagiri: ！！！！？

Kazama: What's with that astonished expression, is what I said that surprising?

Shiranui: No, although this is for a pure-blooded female oni, I really didn't expect it to this degree.

I didn't think it was possible for him/you to actually say that he’d/you would change for someone else.

Amagiri: Did you eat something you shouldn't have? Or do you have a fever?

Kazama: What do you mean?

Are you saying that I am a man who is completely unrepentant [might change to remorseless... or some other synonym] and arrogant?

Shiranui: Mm, no! It would be great if that was true though.

But you've had the same temperament since you were a kid, can you change it?

Amagiri: And not just because / this cannot be because you're being reprimanded, but rather for the sake of the daughter of the Yukimura family!

Kazama: I am a man who does what he says, and I am saying that I will change.

Shiranui: If you're really serious, we'll help you.

But even if Kazama is humble/modest, that female oni might view that as a trap.

Amagiri: That cannot be said!

This however is a good opportunity to correct his daily bad habits.

Shiranui: That's also right, we should take advantage of this opportunity.

Kazama: What are you secretly whispering about?

You still haven't told me what I should correct.

Shiranui: Okay, I got it, do you have the courage to listen?

Kazama: Come then, I will see this to the very end, so don't hold back!

End

[musicallisto]

how do you name ur fics😭😭😭

is this a passive-agressive comment on my titles being shitty or an actual cry for help asidbdidjd

✧˖°࿐ honestly, it's a hastle, and I typically name my fics when I'm practically done writing them because I have to know all of the intricacies of the piece before I settle on a fitting name. the majority of my fic names are direct titles or quotes from the songs I used as inspiration so they're obviously the easiest to figure out, but when I'm not writing based on a song, it can be pretty hard. in fact, if you look at my to-do list (not now because none of the pieces on there are really new, but at any other moment) the majority are unnamed because I can't figure it out.

best advice I can give you is:

use a song title or quote. the easiest way to find a title, and can also attract readers (because if I recognize a title or lyric I'm more prone to checking out the fic). looking back, straight-up song titles are the ones I'm most dissatisfied with esp. with my older work, because they feel too vague and disconnected from the fic. nowadays usually I'll try to add a little twist to not make it too obvious, and choose a relevant lyric or part of a lyric. this is the case for the door to heaven and hell (from khemmis' a conversation with death) and float like a feather (in a beautiful world) (from radiohead's creep). as you may have noticed also i have a thing for long titles and/or parenthesis.

take a direct quote from the text. i don't do that very much because it can be difficult to find one that fits, but when you do it's super satisfying and there's no better way to truly encapsulate what you wrote than using direct words from the fic. this is kind of the case with there's no escape from the things i've done, though the words are not uttered like that but it's the thought that haunts loki and the narration all throughout the piece.

summarize your fic in the simplest way possible: one word. strip it to its bare essentials. what is fundamentally going on in the piece? this is what I did with fallen between the cracks and caged bird, my upcoming margaery tyrell fic. the first one I could summarize with the word forgotten, because memory and oblivion are at the core of that one-shot, but fallen between the cracks sounds fancier and prettier than just 'forgotten'. for the other, it's truly all about being trapped. from then on, it's just building synonyms and similes like you would any other part of your writing.

close your eyes and visualize. this works for me because I'm a highly visual person, and my mental images are super vivid, but it might not be the case for anyone. imagine what is going on in the fic as cinematographically as possible. think of the colors, the scents, the noises, the temperature and callousness of the air... any detail you can to build a mental picture of the scene and feel like you're really there. once it's done, take a photograph. seriously, take a mental photograph of the scene, or if it has movement, a video; the point being that you can't add anything to it anymore; and jot down the first thing(s) that strike you. this is how I named warm to the bone and all that light touches, one of my upcoming helnik fics. specifically, I have an extremely vivid representation of the setting of that second fic, and the most protrudent element is the sunrays slowly sweeping green meadows and singing streams as the morning progresses. then my brain jumped to the lion king, it's true, but it was all the more fitting because it's a matthias & child fic and I'm going to savor it as much as I savor that movie. These are the hardest titles to come up with and often only appear halfway through the first draft, but they do kinda hit you when you least expect it.

Hope this was helpful at all! Let me know if you have any other questions :)

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

okay soooo... sorry for the delayed reply, i've been kinda busy!

i gotta start this off by saying how much i loved the way you wrote "[...] that feeling of wanting to reach divinity and holiness with your writing. The raw, exposed nerve of that writing." - it's hard for me to refer to writing as a hobby because it's such a substantial part of me, if that makes sense? or maybe that's just my codependent relationship to writing... whenever i don't write for a while i start feeling like a non-person! (ok, in hindsight this doesn't sound 100% related to the holiness bit, but that's what sparked the train of thought)

on for colored girls who have considered suicide - when the rainbow is enuf: i actually listened to a monologue from this a while ago on youtube, but I'll be sure to check out the full text!

also, on the topic of spoken-word & slam poetry: i'm going to a poetry reading at a friend's place later this month and it's nerve-racking. i mean, hey, of course i bleed into my poetry, and in theory i'm cool with that. but reading it aloud to a room half full of strangers? that's like lying on an operating table, flesh sliced open with surgeons over you. (i'm sure it'll be fun, though)

i've read primer for small weird loves and wishbone (because they're both included in richard siken's book crush - which is definitely worth the money (& btw, he has a new book coming out this year in fall/winter; thought i'd tell you in case you didn't know))! out of the two i like wishbone a lot more - although that's probably just because i relate to it a little bit more. i like making lists so i've compiled some of my favorite parts from the poem:

• "I took the bullet for all the wrong reasons [...]"

• "Let's not talk about it, let's just not talk."

• "[...] we keep doing it Henry, we keep saying until we get it right... [...]"

• "If you love me, Henry, you don't love me in a way I understand."

• "This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish."

it's crazy (well, not really, but you know) that you mentioned jericho brown, because we read something by him in english class a few years back and he's completely slipped my mind since then! so, thanks for reminding me :)

first of all, i love how duplex starts and ends with the same line - and this may be a reach, but it feels sort of like coming home? he introduces us to the line, we go away for a while, then we're back at the beginning. and maybe i just feel this way because for me going home is synonymous with going back home. (not always, but a lot of the time.) also, the contrast of "none of the beaten end up how we began" & the poem ending exactly how it began? i don't have the right words to explain what, but there's something that grabs me in that.

now, let's take a short detour because i feel like dropping some recs. here's two poets whose work i really enjoy: chen chen and jasmine ledesma (who i think is on tumblr, too? @/candiedspit if i'm not wrong). i'd specifically like to recommend (and hopefully hear you opinion on) chen chen's i'm not a religious person but & jasmine ledesma's short stories no candy, sorry and FIEND.

links (just in case the previous ones don't work):

i'm not a religious person but: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/58152/im-not-a-religious-person-but

no candy, sorry: https://tinyletter.com/jasmineledesma/letters/no-candy-sorry

FIEND: https://marchharemag.com/fiend

lastly, thanks for the prompt! i'll be sending you the poem in a separate ask (although i'm convinced it only makes sense if you're me) as to not make this one too long haha

-cat

Cat!

Sorry on the delayed reply on my side too. I've been sorta busy with a lot of stuff, but I had to drop in a message.

First of all, the poem? Iconic. It is so well written!!! Ahh! The way you use the numbers to count down all the things in a list sort of a format . And the splendid use of a clock ticking to signify the time coming closer and closer. It reminds of the Doomsday Clock which always reminds us that we are two minutes to complete destruction and in a way it is an inevitable destruction. "I'm one drink away from holiness and I'm not stopping" is such a vivid Ginsberg line that ahhh, it hits with the concept of the Beat Generation being these drunk, high poets who ultimately want to experience divinity through their intoxication and writing. And the ending with, "it's almost Valentine's- please tell your wretched heart I'm sorry." AGHH, the way the narrator tries to stop the inevitability of the sadness of romance?? Or being stuck in a relationship and trying to do better? The interpretations are left wide open and I love that.

[Let me know if you'd be okay with me sharing your poem? And oh, if you like to send me another prompt, I would love that.]

And I wanted to give you some advice on slam poetry performances, I have a bit of an experience with them. The surgical metaphor is indeed apt, there is some vulnerable to stand in front of a group of people to carve out yourself into words and see it take on a meaning for everyone differently. But, revel in that vulnerable state and see how that conveys meaning. Focus on a spot in the room and speak to it and let meaning take its own hold. And remember, even if you don't get the reception you are hoping for, hold onto the meaning that you initially wrote it with. How your poetry affects you in the end is what matters. And good luck! Let me know how it goes.

[I didn't know about the new Siken book. Do you know if it has a name? I'll have to look it up whenever it releases.]

Ahh, and I love the idea of listening favourite lines of poems, I might start doing that with my favourite poems too.

[Also, I know it's in the name, but there's something about the way Wishbone is written that it makes you keep as if you are splintering into bits and dissolving. Especially in the bit where he goes I wish you'd stop reminding about the debt because you can do nothing about it and even if you love me, it is not the way I want.; Please let me go, I cannot let you be in my debt anymore.]

Jericho Brown? Iconic. The cyclical nature of the form as well as it is sort of the same line all the while not being the same line is such a beautiful way to express the repetition, but all how each cycle in a way is different than the last one.

I loved Chen Chen's poem. The way God chooses to escape from his own reality through someone who does not believe enough in him to question him at first it beautiful. And what hits me is how God stops and creates a barrier again by sending the angel as soon as he is questioned in adjacent to his role in the universe. What interests me is how the atheist (I know it does not mention atheism directly, but close enough) is sent an angel and later meet with God, and therefore, the relation that they form is a meaningful bond between two individuals rather than being a power dynamic with the worshipped and the devotee.

There's something about Ledesma's stories about hopelessness in her both protagonists. In the same way, both are extremely tired of their circumstances and want to be somewhere else in perhaps a better versions of their selves. The scattered prose certainly draws it very strongly together.

And finally, to drop a rec of my own, let me know what you think of Ada Limon's "The Problem With Travel" and "Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds." They both are very beautiful poems.

Hope to hear from you soon! :)

[herstarburststories]

Brutal (Dean Winchester x Reader)

✾ A/N: More Dean x reader content, but angst this time! Reposting because I had to edit a few things. Gif's credits on it.  Based on the song ‘from the dining table’.

✾ Summary: Unlike her boyfriend, Dean Winchester, the reader wasn’t raised as a hunter. At first, it seems like a hard but worth it job. Unfortunately, you didn't have in mind how brutal all of it could get.

✾ Words: 3k.

"YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF ANYMORE, DEAN!"

The discussion over a delicate subject at the dining table was blossoming into something bigger. (Y/N) was on her feet, shouting at her boyfriend with a shaking voice; a manner that was very uncommon. You were used to Dean being stubborn, and you were not behind him in this aspect which caused a few disagreements here and there. That certain argument, though, was definitive in every meaning of the word.

"I HAVE ALWAYS MADE IT FUCKING CLEAR WHAT THIS LIFE WAS, (Y/N)!" Dean snapped back, anger dripping from his words like venom. He was hurt. How could you say that he was becoming a cold-hearted person? You, of all people. "IF I DON'T KILL IT, IT KILLS ME! THIS ISN'T AN APPLE PIE LIFE, AND YOU KNEW IT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO STAY HERE!"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT VAMPIRES OR POLTERGEISTS OR WENDIGOS, DEAN! FUCK!" Your usual efficiency with words was starting to tangle with desperation. Dean didn't even see the problem, for God's shake. How could you keep this up? "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PEOPLE! I SAW YOU KILL FIVE POSSESSED PEOPLE TODAY!"

"DEMONS!" He groaned and slapped the table. You jumped in surprise, making him regret getting out of control and coaxing a softer, calmer tone from his mouth. "I killed demons, not people."

"The demons were possessing them, and you killed them off without any regret. You didn't even take a minute to consider other options."

"What other options?" he questioned, obviously upset. What the hell were you doing? Becoming the devil's advocate all of sudden?

"Using the demon-killing knife to stab a non-vital part of their bodies? Maybe an exorcism?"

"None of those options would end the problem permanently. Do you have any idea how many sons of a bitch came back from hell to get Sam and me? It's them or us, (Y/N). And I will always choose us." Dean was aware that you weren't raised in this life like him and Sam, but this conversation was becoming frustrating and confusing. You were training to be like them. You went to hunts with them. You... You supported him. At least, you did last time he checked. "The human is long gone when they get possessed. Dying is the best thing that could happen to them after that."

You were supposed to be an easy case that turned out to be more complicated than previously expected, what meant both of them staying a little longer in the city, you catching feelings for Dean and vice-versa. After all you had seen, you knew that normal life was a long lost memory that you didn't wish to visit, leave alone live in. Hauntings, traveling across the country, having no banal responsibilities-- that seemed like the kind of dangerous fun you had been looking for your whole life. Then, you came with them. Killing things had never bothered you-- they weren't actually alive, for starts. Until you saw how cold Dean looked when he killed off possessed people-- the humans that were still in there somehow. And he kept doing it as if it were the only option. Of course, this job and violence walked side by side, but not unnecessary lethal choices. Dean certainly shared his portion of brutality, which wasn't tiny, but you would never picture your boyfriend as uncaring. Not until you watched five bodies piled up together, burning. What about the chance that those people should have gotten?

"Are you even listening to yourself, Dean? What if Sam had thought like that when you became a demon!?" Apprehensive, you tried to make him understand what was wrong.

Dean clenched his jaw before his answer came out, "Those are two different things, (Y/N). You know that."

"I..." You flinched, taking a deep breath and letting it out. You shut your eyes before opening them with a determinate glare, locking your gaze with his green one. "I can't. I said I would stand by you through anything, but I can't let this slide. Not like this."

"Because I killed a few demons?" The older Winchester grinned wryly. He was furious, scared by the possibility of you leaving him, and injured by your words. What else could a wounded animal do besides attacking? "I survived, (Y/N). I've killed many others, and I'm not fucking sorry for it. They had it coming. You knew that was my life, and you chose it. What are you going to do now? Play the coward? It's a dirty, fucked up job, but someone has to do it, and you knew that."

Offering a sad smile, you walked towards him and lifted your hand to claim his cheek only for him to pull away from you. Your heart ached, but you needed to do that. Stick to your morals and beliefs.

"I love you." And you did, you truly did. Unfortunately, blood was as normal as water in his mouth, and you couldn't help but remain nauseous after what you tasted. "But there is a better way. Maybe not perfect, but another decision. And if you can't see that, if you can't see why I find it wrong to just rush around with the knife in every situation--" Your voice almost broke. "Goodbye, Dean."

You turned around, passing away from the man you loved before another speech stopped you.

"I bet you regret leaving your home to run away with me now."

You didn't take two seconds to reply, and you desired that he could understand how hard it was for you too. "I would never regret you."

No ray of sunshine licked Dean's face to wake him up. Fortunately for the Winchesters' disorganized sleeping routine, the bunker prevented the sun from invading the window-- a perk of living almost under the land in a bunker.

Instead of a normal reason to emerge from his rest, Dean's eyes fluttered open from an annoying migraine. Perhaps he went a little too hard on the alcohol yesterday, but that was the last thing that mattered. Besides, even if it was an abnormal sensation, he wouldn't trade it for sake of 'drinking like a normal human being', as (Y/N) had teased him so many times before.

(Y/N).

It took two seconds after recovering consciousness to think about you.

“Where are you?” he said in a whisper, playing with himself to the silent walls. Dean laughed with his own brand of self-deprecation-- a learned cruelty to dilute the tug of his emotions before the eldest Winchester had to get up. He knew exactly where you resided and why you were there. He decided against feeding his masochism for once, not glancing at your side of the bed.

To face the light fixtures above him only made his current situation more depressing, just like the hints of paint that (Y/N) had once thrown there. Dean Winchester knew pain like no other; hell, purgatory, an emptied childhood, watching his mother seal a deal with a demon, living with the fact his father had gone to hell to save him, being right in front of Sammy when he died, all the bloody deaths he’d lived through again and again-- the list would go on. He could probably drown in an ocean of his deceased loved ones’ blood and swim there for hours until he reached its edge.

Most of the time, the life of a hunter was synonymous with tragedy.

Therefore, Dean was very experienced when it came to suffering. He even shared a last name with a rifle, for God’s sake. Destruction was stained in his bones. This time, it was a different kind of torment.

His heart had been broken before, sure. He wasn’t in his early twenties, neither was he a saint. Dean was aware that a break in relationships could be devastating.

But again, this time, it was different. (Y/N) had not only broke his heart. You ripped it out and threw it in the trash as you walked out the door without looking back. His trust was in your pockets, and the beliefs clinging to the divine sensation of your touch that left with you.

Dean Winchester was hopeless. Deciding not to mourn for a bit, he closed his eyes from the melancholy. It wasn't a hard job to fall asleep once more. People in his job were always heavy-eyed.

Forty minutes passed by the clock until the Winchester roused again. This moment felt missing without you snuggling up to him or kissing his neck between foolish giggles or even pushing him out of bed when you felt like playing the prankster.

There was no valid reason to remain where he was, glaring at a stupid ceiling that held nothing but an old light you installed together and memories. The yellow and blue paints still held firm where you’d spattered them, jumping in the bed together with your hands drenched in the colors from a gouache paint container just because you’d found the tins somewhere in the bunker. You and Dean became a tangled mess of greens, dirty with paint and kissing. How many sexual encounters happened here, he thought, glaring at this ceiling that looked like three-year-old Sammy’s art project.

The green-eyed man never thought he would feel nostalgic about a stupid ceiling. He had to get out of that room.

Finally raising from the mattress, Dean yawned as he padded towards the kitchen. He didn't mind checking what time it was, knowing he needed an alcoholic getaway. The Winchester sat down, sharing a bottle of Whiskey with his shadow. How distracting it was to make his throat burn when an unpleasant thought attempted to take control of his head.

If he had dared to look through the room, Dean would have noticed the clock's arrow pointing at 10:50 am.

By noon he was already drunk, which took a lot of effort since his tolerance to drinks was a bar high set. Dean groaned, displeased. The buzzy feeling of befuddlement hitting him certainly helped, but he could still affirm that he had never felt less cool. His body was starving for something that wasn't there anymore. Dean's feelings were all over the place, and he didn't have the energy to pick them up at this point.

"I can't believe you are drinking already." Sam sighed, making himself known by Dean in the kitchen. In response, all he got was his brother holding the glass up and drinking all of its bronze liquid. "It's barely noon, Dean. You-- Wait. Are you drunk?"

"Don't start, Sam." He groaned, holding his own cheeks with fingers as his hands slid down to his chin. The gesture was a habit of Dean's when he was fed up with something.

The younger one offered him an indignant glare, which was soon replaced by empathy and sorrow as he watched Dean. His brother was broken. (Y/N) running away from them had really taken him down. Part of Sam was hurt as well-- after all, you were his friend and confidant. But, in all ruthless honesty, he couldn't speak out and point fingers at you on that. Not about the whole situation, at all.

Yet, if Sam was feeling abandoned by his friend, he could only imagine what Dean would be experiencing. You had been a hint of happiness in the middle of misery and combat for Dean. It had been so long since Sammy saw his brother like that, so very long. Suddenly, it disappeared like smoke. And the worst part was that he understood your side. Deep down, the long-haired man knew Dean did, too.

Trying to knock sense back into his brother, or at least a bit of normality, Sam spoke, "You can go out and buy some whiskey. Your bottle was the last one."

"Yeah, right." His voice was impassive, almost serious for such casual conversation. He got up, going to the table to grab Baby's keys.

"Hey, Dean..." Dean turned around to face his brother. Sam’s expression was cautious, voice soft when he continued: "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. It could help."

"I'm pretty sure you heard the screaming yesterday, Sam," Dean replied dryly, an unsettlingly wry smile surfacing. His walls were up. It was an old defense mechanism. "There is nothing to talk about. She left. The sooner we can accept it, the sooner we can move on."

"Move on? You want to move on?" he questioned suspiciously, eyebrows arching to match his inquiry.

Dean didn't answer. He only picked up the keys.

"Dean--"

"Yeah, I think we are out of eggs, too," Dean interrupted. He didn't need to talk about it. Not now. "Whiskey and eggs, got it."

Any other remarks from Sam were ignored as he walked through the door, trotting in direction of his beloved Impala. An old song on one of his cassettes was the soundtrack to his five-minute ride to the nearest store.

Dean went searching for eggs and whiskey, adding a lemon pie that smelled better than himself-- not that it was difficult considering he hadn’t showered since yesterday. The store’s cashier swiped his credit card and offered a polite farewell that was replied with a nod. Everything seemed so normal in the most boring ways.

In the parking lot, a familiar face appeared for the first time in a year. It was Thomas-- a hunter that Dean, you, and Sam had come across during a job in New Mexico.

"Winchester!" The blue-eyed man smiled, making the scar near his lips more evident. Being thrown out of a window left marks sometimes. "It's been too long, dude."

"Cavill." His lips curved into a small smile as he greeted his friend. Laying his green eyes on him, Dean couldn't avoid noticing a familiar shirt. Fuck, he must be hallucinating or thinking too hard about foolish subjects. "Where have you been?"

"Burning bones, decapitating vamps. Same old, same old." Thomas waved his hand, banalizing the supernatural routine as if it were nothing but another Sunday. For them, this was true. "I saw (Y/N) yesterday. She seemed fine. Separate hunts to take different cases?"

His blood burned through an emotional fever in realization. It felt like the boil was intense enough to melt his bones if he remained in front of the other men for too long. Thomas had never been subtle about finding you attractive, and neither was his constant flirting when your cases collided. It didn't help that you and Dean weren't together back then, even though the tension was obvious for anyone. The Winchester gripped his grocery plastic bag harder, offering him a sarcastic smirk.

"Something like that." He reached the car door and pulled out his keys. The familiar red flannel, your meeting with him-- it was so obvious it was basically written all over his face, and sadly, Dean could read it well. Fuck, he wanted to drop his purchases and punch that smile off Thomas’ face. That man probably had more of what was once his. “Gotta go. See you around.”

Sliding in the car to leave this conversation before his treacherous mind could reach more detestable conclusions, Cavill answered, "If you need help, give me a call.''

Dean mumbled something but didn't care enough to give him anything beyond a nod while the Impala finally drove away from Thomas.

At that moment, he wished a bit harder that Ellen was still alive or that another bar like hers existed. The hunters’ bar was full of people who understood that death was a part of the job. Somewhere he could swallow barrels of alcohol, play darts and tell bloody stories about his world-- about the quintessential things he did to get despair out of his system to the point that he felt comfortable on his own skin again.

So, that was it? You didn't just leave him and Sam, but you also accused him with all certainty you had of being a cold killer, and then you slept with the first man who showed up? Who was also a fucking hunter? Why the fuck didn't you tell him how you felt sooner? He wasn't an angel-- he would be even more of an arrogant asshole than he already was if that was the case, but you knew it all along. He didn't deserve anything good in his life. He should've seen it coming.

Dean pursed his lips, deciding for another ride to a normal bar. Home and all the beautiful, tragic ghosts inside could haunt him later.

It didn't take him long to park near an establishment. For once, he noticed the strong grip he held on the steering wheel, knuckles strained whiter than usual. He let out a tired sigh, glaring at the entrance of the place before grabbing his phone.

No calls from you. No text messages from you. Just the feeling of being a thirteen-year-old boy again, just like when he was waiting for Mary to send him a sign that she was all right.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean put it back in his pocket and made his way to the bar. No 'welcome' board light was shining yet, and he doubts anyone but he and the owner would be there. Once he got in, two guys were sitting in a table far away, and a girl was entering the bathroom. The bartender stood behind the bar, watching some game on the small television the place provided.

"Whiskey. No ice." His words came out harsher than he expected. The guy didn't seem to notice or care, simply nodding his head and turning around go get his client's order. One more time, Dean took his phone and stared at it. There was nothing but a text from Sammy that he quickly replied to, frowning in disappointment. It was rare for you to be the first one to break after a fight, but that was more than a stupid argument. You had left. You had fucking left. And he was the only one to blame.

Such a miserable routine kept its course. Dean would drink, check his phone, and hurt himself with his own thoughts. The night came with lurking shadows, and he couldn't care less. It seemed like the ghosts had replaced the bunker for his company. He didn't want to believe you would come back because hoping and being destroyed again was too much to bear with right now. Dean couldn't even breathe properly at the thought that he would never, ever see touch you, tease you, or be with you again. You had him wrapped around your finger since the very first day until you cut your hand off and left him. You left. How could you have left? But then, how could you had stayed if you had it all in your mind before?

Someone sat beside him. Still, it didn't catch the Winchester's attention until he heard her voice. For a flash of a second, he thought it was you. Dean looked up instantly, only to find himself incredulous.

The woman in front of him looked so much like you. She could easily be mistaken for your sister. Hair, eyes, voice. Everything but the lips were so similar. The unknown girl kept her gaze on Dean despite his strange reaction to her. Repeating her former words, she asked, "What are you drinking? Seems good."

Yeah, she wasn't (Y/N). You could tell what he was drinking from miles away, just because you knew exactly what he enjoyed. In addition, you’d seen his preferences so much that you’d memorized it all without even trying.

She looked like you, though. A lot. The earlier jealousy mixed with a dangerous quantity of alcohol and anguish made his decision. Move on, just like he told Sam. You didn't call him. You weren't coming back. That was your choice. He had to shut up the little hopes in his mind.

Putting up his best sultry smirk, Dean pushed the glass on the table towards her as he answered: "You tell me."

Two hours later, he was tilting his head to the side, watching the woman in his sheets peacefully taking a nap after a long run. Her hand covered most of her face, pillow carpeted with her messy hair.

"Wake up, (Y--)" Dean restrained himself from finishing that sentence. He almost said your name. It was hard enough to keep the woman's name, which he had forgotten by now, on his tongue during sex-- he wasn't going to give in at the end of it. Clearing his throat, the hunter started waking her up again. He needed to go.

In any other point of his life, he would've considered that night a success. A hot girl was sleeping beside him after he had a great amount of old whiskey. Sammy sent a text about a new case, and he had pie waiting for him in the car. At any other moment, that would be enough to put him in a good mood all day. In any other age, that would be considered a good day. No one died, he had sex and food and was about to hunt a thing and blow whatever it was up.

But you hadn't called.

It was probably a good thing in a messed up way. It was tranquil. There was no arguing, no fighting, no hurting from either side. That kind of hurt was quite similar to being comfortable, in a tremendously distorted way that he didn't wish to feel, like not putting medicine on the wound and just allowing it to heal by itself-- yet, occasionally scratching it. The idea of a comfortable silence was so overrated. Dean would rather be screamed at by (Y/N) by now than whatever this option was.

The woman woke up and left a note with her phone as she abandoned the room. Crumbling the paper, he threw it away and touched his face. A deep breath was taken.

He had work to do.

Maybe one day you'll call me

and tell me that you’re sorry too 

But you never do

[littlefreya]

Hi Freya! Just wanted to say you're awesome and I entirely blame you for my current obsession with Henry! I love the way you write and you've educated me in worlds i didn't know existed! You've also inspired me to try my hand at writing smut - so I've come to ask the great and wise Freya if you have any tips? Much love! ❤

Aww! The kitty! 💖 Well, first thing first, I am honoured, I am happy that my stories have inspired you and that I accidentally (or perhaps intentionally) caused you to fall for Henry. He is a great person to fall for, anyway. ;)

So tips for your first hand at smut? Why not!

1. It’s all about you - Take a great breath, no one is forcing you to write, you are indeed doing this for your own emotional and sexual fulfilment. It’s your fantasy and you are allowed to write whatever you desire. 

2. Try to bullet pointing the plot - I find it helpful when it’s a long story. I want to have a structure. Just like planning a building, you need the foundations for a good story. Smut is not different, I find that even a “Porn without Plot” story needs to have a construct; otherwise, it’s all over the place. Just ask yourself: 

Who are the characters?

What do they want?

What are their personality traits?

How will my story begin and how will it end. 

3. Use your imagination - Before and when I write, I play out a scene in my mind. It helps me to see the situation and describe it better, whether it’s location or a physical act. I can lie on my bed imagining what it would feel like to have Henry on top of me, how will his weight press me down, how will his kisses feel on my neck, what does he smell like? 

4. Know when to use details and where to stop - Obviously writing is about describing a situation and emotions. Readers will see in their mind what you give them and complete the missing details. As a writer, you choose how things will look like for them and what they can imagine on their own. A recent example, in my latest story (Night Drive) I described the character was humming a familiar tune, but I chose not to tell my readers which tune it is even though I had a particular song in mind. Why I did that?

I wanted it to be left ambiguous to increase the tension for my readers. I wondered how it will play in their own mind.

Yeah, I love music, but my readers don’t always listen to what I do and if they don’t know the song I was referring to it might not have the same effect.  

Keep in mind that too many details can be your enemy. Let it breathe. If something is obvious and not crucial for the atmosphere, there is no need to go into the description of how brown were Geralt’s boots. But then you can use your magic to emphasis a character’s emotional state instead. For example, you don’t have to tell me a character is angry, you can use the weather, the room or even his shoes to describe it to me, his facial expressions the colour of their eyes.  Exhibit 1: “Geralt was angry.”

Exhibit 2: “Geralt’s eyes pierced into his enemy like two silver daggers.”  

5. Sex is hard to write - Sex is chaos, and I often find myself struggling while writing sex scenes, asking myself if it’s even hot and if someone will be turned on by it. I admit I don’t think I am that good in writing sex, hard for me to judge since I am the chef and not the one eating the meal. But I’m trying to improve on that.

Things to do: Details again. Sex can be dirty and nasty, and it can be emotional. Sometimes it can both! If you want to write something lewd, try to describe how humid and drenched it, if it’s emotional, be more poetic, less bodily description, more how do your characters feel like.  Avoid clinical descriptions: Vagina, vulva, penis... nah, they’re a turn-off. Also, try avoiding too many repetitive words, cock is okay, but using it 6 times in one paragraph will sound absurd. Use synonyms (lips, petals, folds instead of labia) and metaphors (her lush cavern instead of her puss) but be careful with metaphors because sometimes they can be ridiculous.   

5. DARE!!! I have a lot of fellow writers, I use them to consult about plot details. I have a crazy imagination, and I often find myself asking “will it be too much if...” and their answer is always “YES!!!!”

6. Get a beta! - a lot of people praise me for my early work, which I am thankful for but... going back and reading it; I wish I worked with a beta, I had typos, repetitive words, etc. I write better at night, but then I’m also tired and don’t always notice my own errors. Even after proof-reading, your brain has a tendency to ignore mistakes. So it’s still good to have someone to go through things for you but also more than that, a proper beta will give you suggestions on what you should improve in your story, and that’s GOLD.  

7. Patience - People will take time to find your stories when I published my first one it got zero notes after a day, and I took it down because I suffer from anxiety. I eventually tried again, and now I have a great list of people asking me to tag them when I post! Don’t be discouraged if people don’t comment right away. 

8. Don’t stop writing !!! The more you do it, the better you become. Be open to feedback, talk to other writers and READ other people’s story.