#i wanted to answer this several days ago but i put it in my drafts

[misswoozi]

howdy, my friend! happy new year! i wish you and all the anons here the best for 2024. let’s hope it’s 10x better than last year 🤍🤍 sorry i didn’t drop by sooner, i got the spider-man games for my birthday so i’ve been doing that all day, lol.

i have a request… wheein has been running laps in my head for the past few days… may i please have some wheein headcanons 🙏 - 🍟

HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, MY WONDERFUL FRIEND! Another year has passed and I'm so so glad you're part of my Tumblr life! You're such a cool person and I love when we get to interact. I really hope this year brings you everything you're hoping for and then some!

so! let's talk about Wheein

bisexual as fuck

bottoms for female partners

pretty subby with both male and female partners

bit of a brat lmao

very into riding her partner (this is someone with S+ tier hips/body rolls so her partners are ALSO very into it)

likes drunk sex, loves high sex, can get a little loud

I ship her with Hwasa, Changkyun and Vernon! (also maybe Mingi?)

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Uh.... Apparently I wrote this in the middle of the night but also I have no recollection of it. The things I found on my drafts are so funny lol. Enjoy??? And on another note, gonna finish my others requests this week, I promise! 🥺🤞

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, domestic fluff, I think, soft!Sebby, nudeness, kidnapping but reader doesn't care anymore.

That night, as the moon shone in the starry sky, Sebastian prepared a hot bath for his beloved. The scents of herbs and flowers filled the air, he had even lit several candles of different colors to create an even more comfortable atmosphere. Sebastian was perfect in every way, even though the beginning of your relationship was turbulent, everything had now improved.

Carefully he adjusted the water temperature, making sure it was perfect and exactly how you like it. His beloved mate deserved the best after such a stressful day.

With a calm smile on his lips, Sebastian entered the room he shared with you. There the demon's heart leaped inside his chest, something he would never have believed possible before. You were sitting in your armchair, with a tired expression and your eyes heavy with sleep. Sebastian approached silently, wrapping you in his strong arms.

"Bassy?” You opened your eyes, holding back a yawn but settling comfortably into his arms.

"Shh, go back to sleep darling, I'll take care of you now." He whispered in your ear as he carries you to the bathroom. And you gave yourself to your loved one's care without question, trusting him completely.

If it were a few months ago though, Sebastian thinks with grace, you would force your eyes open and fight against his touch, fight against everything he would do because you used to fear him. Sometimes you still would evade him but now just to tease him and to see the expressions on his face. "It's priceless", you often say.

With skill and delicacy, Sebastian undressed you, revealing the soft skin he adored so much. He let your body sink into the hot water, listening to your sleepy sighs of delight with a smile. Tenderness adorned every movement he made, washing every inch of your body, his fingers gliding gently across your skin, massaging your tense muscles and making you let out soft giggles.

You are such a precious little thing. Giving yourself over to him and his sick love, a love that consumed and consumed and never stopped growing. A love that took away everything you knew, but gave you everything you needed. Sebastian didn't care if it was unhealthy or selfish, he only cared that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

He loved every detail of you, every imperfection that made you unique in his eyes. In other times this feeling would have been a source of shame for the demon, but now it was something he was proud of.

When the bath came to an end, you woke up as the heat of the water left you, but you were soon wrapped in the soft, fluffy towel. Sebastian took you back to the bedroom, humming as he sat you down on the bed and dried every part of your body.

You smiled. "You know you didn't have to do all that."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at your statement. What kind of lover would he be if he couldn't do that? Instead of answering you, he inquired. "What do you want to wear to bed?"

Normally you would wear your pajamas, but for the last few days you have been sleeping in one of his shirts. They were long and had his signature scent even after they were washed, they were comfortable just like you had said after this became a constant occurrence. The look on your face already responded and Sebastian promptly presented you with the white shirt, helping you put it on with the same delicacy used when he bathed you.

You pulled him closer as he reached to fasten the buttons and left several small, noisy kisses across his face. If he was a human, you knew that at that moment he would have blushed due to the expression that inhabited his face at that moment.

He helped you lie down right away, kissing your forehead. The candles were extinguished, the covers were placed over you to protect you from the cold, he walked away to put the towel to dry and when he returned your eyes were already closed. It was difficult not to feel drowsy when all that surrounded your small house were wide woods that stretched out immensely.

"Sleep well, my beloved mate," Sebastian whispered, caressing your face very, very sofly.

The demon also changed his clothes before joining your side, pulling you closer until your back was flush against his chest and resting his head in the crook of your neck. As sleep enveloped you completely, Sebastian smiled, watching your nose curl and your eyebrows twitch, listening to your sighs and snores and feeling your heart beating.

Demons don't usually sleep, but they can if they want. Before you, Sebastian used to think all of this was beneath him. But now that he has you, now that he has experienced love for the first time, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him too without thinking twice.

[cuubism]

I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

--

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.

[linskywords]

OH MY GOD MS. LINSKY HAS DONE IT AGAIN!!! Absolutely loving Kiss Your Boyfriend so far. Can I ask how do you maintain such a high level of productivity with your writing? Your output is incredible! If you feel like sharing how much time you spend writing per day / how many words you average per day that would be really interesting, plus how you find the time / inspiration to write so much? Thanks.

This is so kind, thank you!! This answer got super long and somewhat off-topic, so I'm putting it below a cut.

I am incredibly lucky in my writing time, especially for someone with a small baby. A bunch of years ago I talked my office into letting me go half-time so that I'd have more time to write -- at the time I was thinking specifically of novels, which I have written several of (though not with a level of quality that I'm happy with). Since having a baby last year, I've pretty much only been interested in writing fanfiction; hence the output you've seen. You can pretty much track how much novel-writing I've been doing by looking at my ao3 stats page and seeing how high the wordcount is for a given year. if it's low, there's probably a novel draft or two to blame.

This is a digression, but one that I'm going to include because it's inextricably tied up for me with thoughts about my writing time: having a baby has made me feel much more conflicted about my schedule. We have her in full-time daycare -- partly because it's pretty hard to find anything else around here and it's not nearly as much of a discount to go part-time as you feel like it should be, but also because it's always been understood, between my husband and me, that my writing time is something to be protected at most (not all) costs. I cannot overstate how glad I am for this. That writing time has been absolutely sanity-preserving for me in the first year of motherhood. Baby sleep-and-wake times have pretty much eaten my evenings and weekends, but I still have Thursdays and Fridays and the occasional Wednesday where the only work I have to do is write. It's an unbelievable luxury, and one that's let me feel like I'm still a person and not just a mother. And it's one that I still feel guilty about, even while feeling grateful.

Part of the reason I feel guilty and not just grateful is that over the past year I've been wrestling with my relationship with original fiction. When you're working towards becoming a novelist, you can feel like, okay, it's lucky that I can support myself on half a week's salary, and also it's morally okay because I'm working on acquiring this other Real Job! A Novelist! That's a real thing that pays the bills! (Ha. If only it did, cry a million novelists as I type this.) Capitalism is a scam but it's also a real force that operates on our lives and our psyches. That half a week that I'm not working is half a week when my husband is doing something to further our family's survival and I am not. It's half a week when I could be spending full days taking care of my baby, as certain segments of society would tell you is the greatest thing a woman or person can do, regardless of whether or not they enjoy that type of work (I do not). It would feel more justifiable to me if I were using that time to become A Real Artist -- by which I of course mean one who gets paid. But that part of it really is a scam: fanfiction isn't less of an art just because I don't get paid for it. It's just an art that people can't make a living at, and I'm unbelievably lucky that I don't have to.

I don't know if I'll find myself motivated to return to novel-writing anytime soon. There are parts of me that want the challenge of creating something more structurally complex, that love inventing something entirely new, and those parts are worth listening to, unlike the parts of me that feel like an inadequate imposter because I'm not published. So: maybe. But the publishing industry is its own nightmare, and it's hard to want to dive into it when I currently have so much creative freedom and a place to share my work that doesn't rely on the professional gatekeepers. We also don't currently need the income I might make as a novelist -- which is good, because my understanding is that the idea of making even minimum wage as a novelist is laughable, and I'd do much better going full-time at my job and only writing during weekend baby naps.

So those are the current, very fortunate circumstances of my writing life. Hopefully they will make you feel better if you're someone who works full-time or has other full-time responsibilities or just otherwise can't spend the equivalent of two full working days each week writing, and you're looking at how much I've posted so far this year and thinking that you should have been able to write just as much. Maybe you can, if you're able to find that kind of time in your own life and want to spend it writing, but maybe you can't or maybe you just don't want to and I hope it helps to know I haven't been dashing these stories off during my lunch break or something.

As for speed, I am a relatively fast writer, I think, though not exceptionally so. I usually aim for about 1K an hour when working on a rough draft. If I know a lot about where I want a story to go, it can be faster than that, but I can't sustain that for too many hours in a row. There have been days in recent history when I knew what I wanted to happen and I wrote 9-10K in a day, and I always feel like my brain has been scoured out afterwards and then I'm not usually very productive for a couple days afterward. So probably a more sustainable pace for me is 5-6K of new words per writing day, and then sometimes I'll realize I've taken the wrong approach and have to scrap a bunch of words and go back, and other times it'll have been a while since I last looked at a story so I'll have to go to the beginning and catch myself up, which involves a lot of rewriting also. And then there are days that are supposed to be writing days but something won't click, or I'm sick because I have a daughter in daycare and that means all the germs. So my output is super variable.

I will say, though, that one of the most profound impacts fanfiction has had on my life is that I WANT to sit down and write now. When I first decided I was serious about writing I had a few months off between jobs and decided to use them to write a novel that had been living in my head for a few years at that point. Getting myself to sit down and work on it was like herding slugs. It was an agony of procrastination. At one point I think I watched the entirety of The West Wing between one writing session and the next. I wanted to write, or at least I wanted to want to write, and it made me miserable that I wasn't and yet I still didn't. Writing is really, really hard, and almost anything feels easier in the moment!

But fanfiction has never felt like that to me. It's challenging in plenty of ways, and it's still a lot of work to create a story, but for me it's also a joy. It makes me think of how I used to play dolls when I was a kid, coming up with stories for them to act out. And they didn't have to be the world's most complex stories, with multiple interlocking plots and no words wasted, the way I feel like a novel has to be (I'm probably slightly wrong about this, but only slightly). Writing fic has taken away the barrier I used to face when sitting down to write, where it felt like I needed to hurdle a small building to even start putting words on the page. And the amazing thing is that that ease of starting has transferred to original writing as well. My body and mind have a habit of sitting down at the computer and having fun with words, and I can tap into that even when what I'm writing isn't fic.

And I really do love it. There is nothing in the world as satisfying to me as writing. I'm a little bit of a control freak, and writing is something where I can make things happen exactly the way I think they should. Sitting down, playing out the characters' emotions, figuring out how to make it feel real and compelling, guiding them towards the story I want them to have...there is literally nothing I am better suited for or enjoy more.

As for inspiration...well, in addition to the above, I just really, really want these stories to exist. There is something absolutely irresistible to me in getting characters together, especially if being together means having something that they desperately need but can't admit that they want. The most alluring story premises to me are the ones where there's An Obstacle, a thing that seems like it will bar these two (or three, or four) being together in a real way -- a dam behind which tension can build up, more and more over the course of the story, until the obstacle finally gives way and we have all that lovely tension release. And then the poor deprived main character who didn't think he was even allowed to want what he wanted can finally have it. One of the reasons I DON'T enjoy writing original fiction as much is that genre conventions tend to demand that other things happen in addition to that delicious tension buildup and release. Why dilute it when you could just write the pure thing??

So that's the long answer about my writing circumstances and motivations. I hope you found it interesting, anon -- or at least that you continue enjoying the effects! I have such a voracious appetite to write these stories right now; as long as I keep having the time, I don't see that changing anytime soon.

[aperrywilliams]

My Inspiration (Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist!Reader)

(Not my pic. Credits to the creator)

——————

Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist!Reader

Summary: You’re having a creative block, and Spencer is there to help.

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: Nothing I can think of. Fluff in the way I like it. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. Fight me.

A/N: I wrote this one for this request. Feel free to send me more requests.

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It's not like it didn't happen before. You were very aware of what a creative block was. In all honesty, you go through one every so often. This time though? It was taking a toll on you.

You have been spending two weeks working on your canvases without getting something you could call worthwhile.

It's not you don't have ideas to work with. You have plenty of them but nothing really to get you going. But you had compromised on having something for your friend's opening gallery exhibition. You thought a month would be enough, but now you lost two weeks, and the anxiety only increased.

It wasn't helping you were sulking alone in your apartment. Your boyfriend Spencer had left for a case in Los Angeles a week and a half ago, and the prospection of having a productive couple of days turned anything but that.

Today you were so adamant about getting something done that after tossing and turning awake in bed all night, you got up at dawn and locked yourself in your studio. Now it was 4 pm, and you didn't even remember if you had eaten anything during the day.

That also meant you left your phone in your room all day and didn't see Spencer's messages saying he was coming home.

When Spencer arrived at your shared apartment, he suspected you were working on something, and that's why you hadn't answered his messages.

But when he entered the room you were, he didn't expect to see you throwing your brushes toward the canvas before you, cursing profusely.

"Hey, what's wrong, love?" he asked you, concern dripping from his voice.

Hearing him talk brought you back, and you quickly turned to see him.

"Oh! Spencer! Baby! I didn't know you were coming home today," you tried to sound casual and chirping as you launched into his arms. It was a considerable contrast to the outburst happening just two seconds ago.

Spencer wrapped you in his arms, but after kissing your temple lovingly, he pulled back to meet your eyes. You saw the worry written in him.

"Something happened?" He asked you again.

You huffed in frustration. One thing was your creative block, but to worry Spencer about it was the less you wanted. You knew he had had a difficult week catching an unsub; why bother him with this kind of thing?

"It's nothing, really," you tried to dismiss, turning your gaze away from him and moving where your canvas was. You swore the empty textile was laughing at you.

"(Y/N)..." Spencer called you. It was enough for him to tell you he didn't believe you.

You have learned in your two years of relationship that Spencer can read you like a book. He would know something was happening, even if you tried to mask it. With a frown, Spencer took a look at your studio. He spotted several canvases at mid-finish scattered in a corner on the floor, a lot of messy draftings on your desk, and your smock seemed rumpled and dirtier than usual. If he needed to guess, you have been struggling with your work for at least a few days. But what gave you away was your tired face, the prominent dark circles under your eyes, and your messy hair. Feeling his eyes inspecting you made you feel terrible, and you didn't want to look at him back. Spencer took some steps forward and gently put one hand on your back to catch your attention. You shyly turned but were still afraid of looking up at him. He rested both hands on your shoulders.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?" he gently reminded you. "Is something related to those canvases?" he asked, although he knew the answer already.

"Yeah," you sheepishly replied. Your eyes shifted up until finding his gaze. You have been caught. What was the point of not admitting the truth? "I haven't been able to finish anything. I've been trying to direct my ideas for days, but I'm not getting anywhere. I have a creative block, and no matter how hard I've tried, I can't get enough inspiration to put my ideas on canvas," you sighed, defeated, with your lips quivering from the sudden urge to cry.

"Come here," Spencer quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace. You gave in and clutched to him as if your life depended on it, hiding your face in his chest. "It'll be okay. Maybe you need a little break," he suggested. "Why don't you rest for today, and we can do whatever you want. Take your mind off of it for a while. I think it would help."

It was a reasonable suggestion, but you were very stubborn. Spencer learned that early into your relationship. Parting from his embrace, you shook your head.

"No, Spencer. I can't. I need to finish this. I already promised Albert something for the gallery opening. I can't fail him," you explained, moving to your desk to grab a new sketch.

“(Y/N), if you have a block, it will not go away just because you push yourself to do it. Love, please, take a break. I promise it will help,” Spencer insisted, giving you his signature puppy eyes. How to say no to that?

Giving up, you strolled with Spencer to the living room and plopped on the couch. Before following your lead, Spencer asked, “Did you get lunch?”

As a cue, your stomach grumbled so loud Spencer could hear it. Your guilty face didn't help to disguise it.

“I thought so. Wait here.”

Spencer rushed to the kitchen, and a while later, he returned with a sandwich and a glass of water for you.

“Here, you need to eat,” he said, handing you the sandwich and sitting by your side. He settled the water on the coffee table.

You didn’t know how starved you were until you took the first bite. The sandwich and the water were gone just minutes later. Spencer kept a respectful silence, not wanting to bother you as you ate.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Spencer frowned.

“Why are you sorry?”

“You just came back, and you’re taking care of me. It should be me doing that to you,” you sheepishly explained.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to apologize. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m happy to do something for you,” he smiled at you, taking the tray from your lap and leaving it on the coffee table so you could settle more comfortably on the couch.

Crisscrossing your legs, you let out a deep sigh.

“I just feel awful. I’ve been trying to deal with this, but every day seems harder than the previous one. I don't know if it makes sense, and I don’t know why this time it feels worse,” you tried to explain. Spencer nodded.

"Well, it is a common occurrence, even if it doesn't feel like it. A recent survey indicated that 31% of creative professionals suffer creative blocks due to tight deadlines and 30% due to the unwillingness of clients to take creative risks,” Spencer informed you.

“Tight deadlines, uh? It wasn’t a tight deadline two weeks ago,” you argued. Spencer shook his head.

“Don’t do that,” he requested. You narrowed your eyes.

“Do what?”

“Take it as it is your fault. It's not.”

You huffed.

“But I think it is! I mean, I’m stuck here, and it's not that something bad is happening to me or someone is stressing me out. So it has to be my fault,” you shrugged.

“It's not. You know that. It had happened before, right?”

“Yeah, but this time- I don’t know. I - I feel so useless. Like I am a failure. And I don’t know what to do,” you whined. You hate being all fuzzy with this, but the lack of sleep and the stress didn't help to be calm about it. Spencer scooted to your side, grabbing both of your hands with his and tracing soothing patterns on them.

"Well, some studies have shown there are three elements to focus on when trying to overcome creative block and get productive again. The first is to veer from pursuing meaning to making meaning, which implicates identifying and engaging in meaning-making activities, not only making art. Second, you must get out of your head and actually do work, engaging in a recursive process where you can learn what the piece is about, making it rather than by planning, dreaming, and obsessing about it. Finally, to develop a genuine sense that it is okay not always to be perfect. The researchers say most people tend to know this conceptually but still have not allowed themself it at a deeper level."

You hummed, taking in his words.

“Sounds easy,” you mumbled incredulously. Spencer chuckled.

“I know. Easy said than done. But we can start with the second one. And that means you are not authorized to back to your studio until tomorrow,” Spencer informed you.

“What? No! I can’t do that. I need-“ Spencer softly squeezed your hand to stop the rant you were about to initiate.

“(Y/N), I don’t even go to try to guess when was the last day you slept enough, but I can see it, and if you want to get out of your head, you need to sleep. I promise you will return to work soon, just not today, okay?” Spencer shifted on the couch to lie full on it, opening his arms for you.

Spencer was right; you knew it. So you stopped fighting against it. Pouting, you accepted his offer and cuddled with him. Felling his embrace dissipated any reluctance you could still have on you. Softly stroking your back, Spencer lulled you into sleep in no time.

The time you woke up, the first thing you noticed was you were wrapped in a cozy blanket. The second: Spencer wasn’t there with you. Still dizzy from the sleep, you sat to check your surroundings. On the coffee table, you saw a piece of paper with your name on it. Narrowing your eyes, you took the piece of paper and unfolded it.

It was a note in Spencer’s handwriting.

‘My love,

I hope the nap was good. I needed to run some errands, and I didn't want you to wake up just yet.

If it is okay with you, I want us to have a special dinner tonight. So get ready and meet me at nine in the park across the street.

Always yours,

Spencer.’

A smile tugged at your lips. You checked the time, and you had one hour to get ready and meet Spencer.

At nine, you were crossing the park to where you knew Spencer was. When he saw you coming, he stood from the bench, grinning at you.

God, you loved that smile on him.

“Hey beautiful, how was your nap?” he asked, reaching for your hand. You gladly complied, interviewing your fingers with his.

“Pretty good. I must say I was a bit disappointed when I didn't see you by my side, though,” you pouted dramatically to what Spencer chuckled.

“About that, I hope I can make it up to you tonight. Shall we?” He asked, signaling to the street ahead.

“Sure. Where are we going?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Nu-hu. I can’t tell you. It's a surprise.”

You guys took a cab to Penn Quarter and then walked for a while. You still couldn’t make it where you were going. You were passing a neighborhood full of restaurants and places you could visit, but Spencer didn't slow down the pace until you reached a big old building. Looking up and down the front, you recognized it then. It was the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

“What are we doing at the SAAM?”

“What do people do at a museum?” Spencer teased, a grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah, I know. But most people can’t visit after 7 pm,” you pointed. That didn’t make to go away Spencer’s smile.

“Most people can’t make a call and ask a favor from a friend who works here,” he shrugged. “Come on, let's go inside.”

After greeting the guard who let you in, you walked down a long corridor to a set of stairs. You went up to the second floor, and without letting go of your hand, Spencer led you down another hallway to a smaller room. This was illuminated with a warm light. Several paintings were hanging from the wall—some you immediately recognized.

It couldn’t be. Right?

You knew the museum would run an exhibition about the history of color, but it wasn't scheduled until a few weeks more. You have been hyperventilating about it for months, and now you were looking at some of the pieces you knew would be there.

“Spencer? Those are-?” You could barely articulate.

“Yes. I would like to say these are all the pieces for the exhibition, but some haven’t arrived yet,” he explained, surveying the room.

You were so dumbfounded that you didn't know what to say, so instead, you jumped into Spencer’s arms with such force that you nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. That’s when you notice the center of the room. There was a little table set for two, with a bottle of wine, glasses, and candles lighting. He followed your line of sight and grabbed your hand.

“I thought we could have dinner here too so we can have more time to appreciate everything, don't you think?”

You grinned, still amazed by everything but mainly by the man before you.

“Spencer Reid, you are something else,” you mumbled before resting your palms on his cheeks to bring his lips to yours. You kissed him with your heart and soul. You didn't recall someone doing for you something like this before.

When you parted, he rested his forehead on yours.

“I must assume that you liked the surprise,” he concluded. You laughed, patting his chest.

“Don’t get cocky on me, Dr. Reid. You still have to give me the description of each piece in this room,” you anticipated making Spencer smirk.

“Yes, ma’am. But first, dinner,” he announced, signaling the table.

While you ate dinner, you couldn't stop looking around you. You were surrounded by so much talent and beauty that it could have been overwhelming, but the truth wasn’t like that, quite the opposite. The beauty of each piece adorning the walls accompanied the beauty of a unique moment with the wonderful man sitting in front of you. Was this finding meaningful? Partly yes.

After dinner, hand in hand, you walked the length of the room, examining each piece. And just like you requested, Spencer had something to say about each one.

"Did you know people have been painting for as long as 30,000 years? The Early Cave paintings were drawn with red or yellow ochre, hematite, manganese oxide, and charcoal and may have been made by early Homo sapiens as long as 30,000 years ago. These would have been ground to make up a primitive paint substance. Other ingredients used were animal blood and fat,” he explained, as you were looking at a replica of a primitive painting.

"Before the emergence of linseed oil in the paint, artists had to mix the dried pigments into a paste using egg yolk. Can you imagine that?”

You laughed at his expression.

“I would say it was a waste of food,” you quipped, making Spencer chuckle.

You moved to another piece that showed an artist from the XIX century painting on a canvas, with a bowl next to him.

"Artists used to store their paint in animal bladders. The bladder was fashioned into pretty purses until the paint tube was invented in 1841,” Spencer informed.

“Yuk!” You complained. “I didn't know that!”

“Sorry, I won’t develop more about that in the future,” he apologized, moving to another painting.

“Thanks, baby.”

You kept walking and admiring each piece. There wasn’t any rush, and you even forgot about your creative block. On the contrary, this was flooding you with ideas and energy.

"Linseed oil was in short supply during World War II, forcing paint manufacturers to research other options. This led to the invention of artificial resins, which were cheap, held the color well, and lasted a long time. The resin was patented in 1915 by Otto Rohm from Germany. It continued to be developed until it became widely available," Spencer explained, pointing to a canvas comparing linseed oil and resin.

“Thanks, Mr. Rohm. My job is better, thanks to the resin,” you pointed appreciatively. Spencer nodded.

The tour continued, and you swore you didn’t want it to end, but at some point, your focus wasn’t anymore on the paintings but on your boyfriend.

You should have been paying attention to the piece of art in front of you. It was the reason Spencer brought you here, right? But you couldn't avert your gaze from him, mesmerized by how his eyes sparkled, explaining why Rembrant never could use green in his paintings. Spencer moved his hands enthusiastically, eager to share every detail he knew with you. You couldn't help but stare at him wet his lips every time he finished a sentence, the way his nose scrunched up when he tried to read the description in the foot of the paint. The way mindlessly his fingers played with yours as you walked hand in hand by the gallery.

Then it hit you. You could have done this by yourself, and you would never feel your heart so full as you had it now. It wasn’t the exhibition itself. It wasn’t the act to witness the beauty of each piece what you needed to get inspired and overcome your block. You needed to feel it, and for that, Spencer was the missing piece. Your love, your biggest fan, the man who believes in you and loves you for what you are and not for what you have done or not.

That’s what true inspiration is—experiencing your own life in the deepest, feeling the pain, the happiness, the love, and wanting to tell the world what’s for you through a canvas.

The realization made you smile and be grateful for the most important person you had the luck to love. That’s why Spencer saw you staring at him and asked if something was wrong; you shooked your head and, after kissing him passionately, whispered:

“I love you, Spencer Reid. My heart is yours, and the world will know it.”

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[paper-gold-theories]

If its ok by you, may I ask for some domestic fluff headcanons for Goldheart and Flug? I'd love to hear what you think they get up to while living together

HeroFlugAU Draft Fics

Not really Fluff. But here are some draft slice of life fanfic drafts for the HeroFlugAU 😆

1) GoldHeart likes to seduce Flug for morning sex just to make him late for his daily schedules. It resulted in Flug having to add morning sex as part of his schedule so that he won't. Making GoldHeart burst out laughing hysterically. He still purposely makes Flug go 5 mins off just to troll him, much to the former villian's frustrations.

2) GoldHeart is petty jealous of anything that has Flug's attention other than him, like his friends, the Golden Jet he's working on for the team and now more recently that Codigo Guajalote show. So he would often seduce him to make him miss the premier. Much to Flug's frustration and they make it into a competition.

3) GoldHeart and Flug go to Supervillains Supermarket & Deli in there are civilian identities to buy groceries, shenanigans ensue.

GoldHeart: We're note taking this van. It looks like the kind of van you'd kidnapped people in

Flug: Well technically I...

GoldHeart, covering his ears: Lalala its better I don't know.

Flug: Well what vehicle should we take then?

GoldHeart: I haven't drawn this in a while. (Points to one of his solid gold Ferraris)

Flug: That? That car has barely any space in the boot. I bet that can't even fit a single bag of groceries.

GoldHeart: It's fine we can just put the groceries on our lap, if it doesn't.

(It wasn't fine, they ended up only getting half the groceries and would try another day to get the rest. 😂)

(outside supermarket)

GoldHeart, laughs: Why do you villians call everything you own evil. Isn't kind of overcompensatingly. What you guys think are gonna be less evil if you don't.

Flug, teasing: Says the guy with "gold hearts" on his knee caps.

GoldHeart, teasing: Sure "Mr planes everywhere".

Flug, laughs: Alright maybe both sides are overcompensating.

GoldHeart, laughs: I can take that.

4) A petty argument of who ends up more desperate for sex ends up with of them had a competition to see who can go long without having sex with. The loser is the one who makes the first move. Everyone suffers the consequences. Frust ated and horny of them attempt to make the other lose by seducing each other. In the end both of them end up losing at the same time and jumping on each others bones and their boners 👀.

5) GoldHeart drinks Flug's special awake coffee and can't sleep for a week drags Flug along to do crazy things out of sheer petiness so that he won't have to be wake along. Like taking a several hour plane trip across the continent to get Elvis's Fools Gold Sandwiches, going up the mountains abd solving puzzles to get the fourth flavour ice cream or going to Guzmán Muñoz to do a tag team wrestle in leotards which ended up with GoldHeart being posessed by a parasite mask resulting in Flug having to fight him. Flug was armed with a tranquiliser gun and a laser gun to counter GoldHeart's powers which the both agreed to use if GoldHeart got mind control, but Flug didn't want to use it at first and tried to reason with GoldHeart only for him to end up getting tea bagged by GoldHeart, resulting Flug's last string of sanity snapping for not sleeping for days which ended him him shooting him with the laser and shooting tranquiliser multiple times and finally managing to get some sleep.

Flug wonders why he didn't think about that a few days ago...

Bonus Scene

After GoldHeart defeated Mask Macabre

Adelita: That's right. Pedro is my husband!

[Crowd & Flug]: *gasps*

Sleep deprived and cranky GoldHeart: OH MY GOD AN ANSWER TO A QUESTION NOBODY ASKED!!

Adelita: [ignores him and tells about her husband's origin story and how he ended up being posessed by the mask]

(They are technically wanted by P.E.A.C.E, so Flug puts a tracker on them before they managed to escape. Mask Macabre gets sent to Area 52 for vivisection)

___

Bonus Draft

6) Some crazy fan got a hold of GoldHeart's underwear after he accidentally left it in a hotel room and tried to auction off on eBay for a million dollars (Miss Heed was one of the bidders). The Golden Rule Members attempt to hunt the creep down and beat the crap out of them bring them to justice.

[zepskies]

Hey Lovely! For the ask game, I'm requesting #4, #7, and #24.

Thanks!! ❤️

Well hello there, friend! 🥰

Oh my, good questions...

Hahaa oh lord. I mean, how much time do you have? 🤣 I have entire files worth of ideas from different fandoms that I've even gone so far as to outline, but have never gotten around to writing.

I think the first ones that come to my head are two series ideas in the Smallville fandom:

Hanging By a Moment - Clark Kent x OC

Summary: The path of Clark Kent’s life changed drastically after he turned sixteen. It was choice, it was happenstance, it was destiny—all in one. He didn’t know it yet, but it was always going to be her.

(Yes, title is based on the song by Lifehouse. 😂)

Keep Holding On - Jason Teague x OC

Summary: Try as Jason might, he just couldn’t compare to Clark Kent. Not in Lana’s eyes at least. Elena is the casualty of war, caught in between.

Both sound very melodramatic now that I read the summaries next to one another. 😂 The main reason why I haven't written these, I guess, is because I feel like the Smallville fandom has mostly died out. Tumblr especially doesn't really support OCs as much as reader inserts, and these stories both needed to be OCs to give me the freedom to create as much backstory and character as I wanted to.

Oh a DEEP CUT you say? 🤣 Oh God, I've been writing since I was about 10 or 11 years old (and let me tell you, it was heinous).

I think my very first fanfic was for an anime called Rurouni Kenshin. It was an AU set in present time. It was that cliché thing where the heroine is sitting at a bar and is getting hit on, but she doesn't give the guy the time of day until her boyfriend (the main male lead of the show) shows up.

That character was known for being a spitfire, so she was good at putting people in their place lol. Her boyfriend is the more mild-mannered of the two, but still very protective, so I guess that's where the idea came from in my kid brain. I've long ago deleted that story off FF.net because it was so damn bad.

My first SPN fanfic, however, can be found here on Ao3. It's also pretty rough because I wrote it back in high school when I was first watching the show, first on FF.net, then transferred it over later to Ao3.

Another interesting question... 🤔

It can take me a bit to get myself into that creative headspace, but when I'm working on a one-shot, I tend to power through the draft until I finish it in a day, maybe two if it's long (5,000+ words let's say).

If we're talking about a series, I try to knock out at least a chapter at a time in one writing session, which could take me a couple hours or several more, depending on length and how detailed my outline is, if I need to do additional research, etc.

If I really have a good flow going, sometimes I can knock out 2-3 chapters in a day. I'll have a solid 1-3 hour writing session towards the beginning of the day, take a break for a few hours, run some errands, go on a walk, have a meal, and come back to it later. I tend to do the bulk of my writing in the afternoon and throughout the night.

Thanks again for asking these questions, lovely!! 😘💜 Always happy to answer.

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

There have only been a handful of times in my 7-year teaching career that a student made me so instantaneously Furious that I honestly thought I was going to lose control and either say or do something I would regret. The first time was 4 years ago.

I told a fifth grade boy to sit down and he looked me right in the eye and with a snide voice said

"OK, BOOMER!"

The other two times were today. For the last two weeks we have been building up to what I'm hoping is going to be a giant mural over native americans. We first learned about the Native American tribes in Texas. Over the course of 2 days I showed them videos of murals in cities like New York and Philadelphia so they could see what really great murals look like. I explained that whatever they had to draw had to be large. This week we introduced the research component. We gave them a brochure to fill out about their tribe where they had to answer all kinds of questions and draw pictures. Today was the second day of that and as I was giving them more pointers about Google I pulled up art from each of the tribes.

I reminded them that when they were done researching they could start planning a rough draft of their mural on a page of blank white paper and then transfer that over into a giant piece of paper.

The first thing I heard when I told themm this today was

"What's a mural?"

As they researched today I pulled up some recent pow wows on YouTube and played them. I heard several kids be extremely surprised because they thought Indians were make believe or something. They kept saying "oh wow I didn't realize they were real!" " those are real people there ?" "I didn't know they still existed!" "where are they at?"

So then a few kids finished up so I told them to starr a rough draft of what they wanted to put on their part of the mural. Three kids brought me the most absolute random drawings in the world. Trying not to be disparaging I asked them "Can you tell me what this picture has to do with your tribe?"

They pouted and exclaimed "You didn't tell us the pictures had to be about INDIANS!!"

[blackjackkent]

Writing Interview Tag Game

I was tagged by @ra-scheln - thank you! :D

When did you start writing?

A looooooong time ago. Haha. As a kid there was a several year period where I thought I wanted to be an author as a career, and always liked writing even after I moved on to other plans. The stuff I wrote as a kid is mostly lost to time, although I do still have the Google doc of a “novel” I wrote for my senior English project in high school. I haven't had the courage to look at it for a long time because it is uh. Not Good. :P (No judgment on my past self - we become better through trying and learning. But it would probably be unrecognizable compared to my writing now.) 

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

Sort of? I like reading scifi and fantasy and the majority of my writing has also been in those genres. But I also like reading things like regency romance, historical fiction, very specific types of horror, etc. that I have no real interest in trying to replicate. 

Can you tell me about your writing space?

Sometimes I write on my phone flopped on the couch - that's how I'm writing my answers to these questions in fact! I'm a pretty fast phone typist but it's still a slower process, though, so when I really want to buckle down I usually go to my desktop computer which is in the office. Right now it's a big wooden corner desk but I'd like to replace it with a couple of smaller ones that are more easy to maneuver and put cool rgb lights on for the Gamer Aesthetic. XD

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Lately as I've been trying to write more consistently, I've been having a lot of luck with this web app called 4thewords.com. It's a bit of gamification but the main thing I like about it is you pick an amount of time and a word goal and it sets a timer for you and it has proved REALLY effective for forcing me to just get words down on paper. The first draft is the hardest for me by far and it's been often really useful for getting over that hump. So lately I'll set myself up for 500-1000 words or so per day of “battles” and that gets me the forward momentum that I'm trying to maintain. 

That said, I'm also trying to be better about not forcing myself to write when it's just not coming at all. I don't want to burn myself out. 

Are there any recurring themes in your writing?

I am sure the answer is yes but it's hard for me to distinctly identify them. (I'd be interested in hearing reader answers to this question.)

Off the top of my head, though - missing scenes, mutual pining, struggles with emotional control. I think one major thing is that, as someone who missed my prime dating years due to the Big Sad, a lot of my characters do have an underlying thread of finding love/fulfillment/connection despite obstacles, later in life, or when they feel they don't deserve it or don't know how to do it. 

What is your reason for writing?

The same reason I was almost an actor, the same reason I like making people laugh on my stream. Hell, even the same reason I like programming and making software that improves someone's day. 

I like making people feel things. I like seeing their reaction to something I've done and hearing that it evoked something in them. This is the most fundamental human connection in my opinion. 

Is there any kind of specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Honestly, any time someone takes time out of their day to leave any type of comment at all, it's guaranteed to make my whole week. But in keeping with my previous answer - my favorite comments are ones where I get to hear about how I affected the reader's emotions, or where they mention particular parts that really struck them. Those always make me really happy. c:

How do you want to be thought about by your readers? 

Interesting question. I think… as someone who is good with character voices and keeps tight hold of the fundamental core of the characters even when putting them in different situations. Someone who can manage both angst and humor well. Once again, I'd like people to look forward to what I write because they know it's gonna make them feel something that they enjoy. 

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character voices and dialogue. I've been told I've been very good at catching the cadence of different characters, and some of my favorite things to write have been just bouncing those voices off each other and seeing what happens. I think this is really the pillar on which all the rest of my work is able to stand bc the characters feeling like themselves makes the rest have more impact. 

How do you feel about your own writing?

This really depends on when you catch me, haha. Some days I'm really proud of it, and some days I have a hard time seeing anything good in it. Currently in a bit of a trough of overthinking it, but I’m lucky to have a couple readers who are v supportive which helps. <3 Overall though I think I do a good job and have some interesting stories out there and in my to-do list. (I also tend to way over-compare myself to other people in the fandom; there are so many incredible writers around here that it's hard to put myself next to them.)

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

A mix of both, I suppose? Certainly in picking what I want to write about I am thinking primarily about what I would find fun to write and not about what has a “market” in the fandom per se. But I also am lucky enough to have found other people who do enjoy the same characters as I do and enjoy my take on them, and in that sense I am definitely often more excited about a particular idea because I know one or more of my friends would be excited to read it. :D So both things are definitely a factor. 

-----

Tagging: @writer86 @rhysintherain @bardic-inspo @thedarkstrategist (and anyone else who wants to do this honestly)

[vinceaddams]

top five clothing items you wish you'd wear more often, please! and the five you do wear the most, please!

Oh heck! I still have asks from that ask meme thingy I reblogged 2 weeks ago, sorry for taking so long!

Hmm, tough to choose specific things I wish I wore more often. I do have a bunch of fancy 18th century things that sit in my closet most of the time, but usually when I leave the house I'm either going to work or to the grocery store, and I don't feel like being super fancy for that. Cuff ruffles would get in the way of all the hand washing and such, and breeches would be annoying at work because I use machines with knee levers.

I guess I wish I wore my nice shoes a bit more often than just for photos, but they were expensive and I don't want to wear out the leather soles. Maybe I ought to get little rubber soles added.

Oh, and my embroidered monster waistcoat! I wish I wore that more, but it's from an older pattern that doesn't fit me very well. The embroidery is also a bit worn out in places, alas.

It's a bit difficult to know which things I wear most frequently, but here are my best guesses for right now. (My summer answers would of course be different.)

1. This brown wool waistcoat from early 2019. I wear it all the time in the cold half of the year.

Just like the monster waistcoat, it's made from a pattern I drafted before top surgery, so it really doesn't fit me anymore. It's also getting pretty shabby. I've been meaning to make some new everyday plain wool waistcoats for a while now.

(I wear that green shirt pretty often too.)

2. This cap. It's just two pieces of linen, and I made it in 2018. I like wearing caps indoors when it's cold, and also under my wool hat outdoors. It adds an extra layer of warmth, is softer than the wool hat, and protects it from my very oily scalp.

I have 3 of these caps, but this one is my favourite. It's also something I ought to make more of.

3. These pants. They're just plain black cotton fall front pants.

I could pretend I'm wearing them the most because they're fully lined and therefore warmer than my other pairs, but the fact is I've got 3 other pairs of pants with holes worn in them that I need to patch and have been avoiding for a shamefully long time. It's a pretty easy thing to fix, and I will likely put it off for several more weeks, if not more.

I feel the need to point out that not all of my wardrobe is in such a miserable state, I at least have a good amount of shirts!

4. I don't think I have any pictures of it, but my winter coat is just a plain medium grey modern (by which I mean at least a couple decades old) wool one. Here's an image I found on google of approximately the same coat.

It was my grandfather's, and is a bit too big for me, and the lining is getting pretty worn out. Someday I want to completely pick it apart, recut it, and re-sew it with a new lining, but I can't do that until I have a backup winter coat.

5. This poor flannel nightgown which has finally worn out! Just a few days ago it developed a huge hole in the back panel, and a small one by the button placket, so it's destined to be cleaning rags and/or firestarters.

The buttons might end up on another nightgown though. So I guess this is no longer a thing I can wear frequently :( In the linked post I actually made 3 nightgowns from the same pattern, and that was the medium weight one, so now I'm down to the very heavy fish print flannel one and the light rayon one, and need to make more. (A very common theme with my wardrobe things, alas. I am slow.)

But I did just finish a new nightgown this week, made from a completely different pattern that I'm quite excited about! I'll get some pictures soon!

[scrawlingmouse]

so, nanowrimo

Writers who are both more eloquent and more established than I have talked at length about it, it's ups and downs, etc., but I figured Hey! I've got a writing blog now and Opinions on Nano! Might as well talk about it, right?

So, for starters, I did Nano about 10 years ago back in high school, and I'm considering doing it again this year. Sorta. We'll get back to that. When I did it the first year in high school it was fun! I did it with a friend, and I didn't "win" but I did get a lot more words down than I was used to! But of course I had school and then college to focus on, so eventually that 2/3rds of a novel draft just kinda withered away while I did nothing with it. Flash forward to the next year and I decide Hey! I should do this again! And I did, and I got maybe 2 days in before I crashed and burned. Flash forward to the next year, and it happens again. And again, and again, until eventually I swore off nano and decided it was Absolutely Terrible for Writers Forever.

So, what changed? Uh, nothing, really. I still don't think nano is a good thing for young writers who haven't learned what the writing cycle actually feels like, or even looks like.

(As a disclaimer: if you are a writer and feel like the structure and deadline works for you to help you pump out a draft, hell yeah! Good for you! Legitimately good for you, no sarcasm! This is not directed at you.)

SO THE WRITING STRUCTURE. WHAT IS IT? It's drafts. It's so many drafts, especially for longer works. It's drafts upon drafts as you figure out how you actually want your story to work. It's writing a whole novel and letting it sit and returning to it and rewriting the entire thing, and then realizing that rewrite was just a second draft, maybe even a 4th draft as you reconfigure what a "draft" actually even looks like. And then, once you have a draft you're satisfied with, it's edits. And then it's several phases of edits before you're satisfied again. And then, depending on what route you're going in terms of publishing, it's potentially even more drafts and editing and drafts of editing as you work to get your story out and-

It's a lot of work, okay? Not that anyone ever said it wasn't, but I feel like we need to be honest with ourselves in that writing is a lot of work. Cranking out 50k words in a month is a draft. A very hasty, very slapdash draft. When I tried doing this in college, I didn't quite realize it, wrapped up in all the hype of writing a novel in a month, and so kept getting frustrated when my words werent perfect. Never mind that I'd never actually finished a draft before, didn't even really know what a draft looked like.

So, why am I trying again? Great question! I'm not! Sorta. I'm not holding myself to the word count (I'm mostly writing short stories and novellas these days anyways), I'm not tying to write a finished product, and if I don't reach my goal this month I'm not going to stop. Because that's what happens a nontrivial amount: dec 1 rolls around and people stop writing without the structure/deadline to keep going, and so all the work they put in to keep up a writing habit goes down the drain. Anyways, my goal this year for this month of nanowrimo is just to stress test my own drafting abilities: how much of a draft for my next Xal novella can I get done in a month? That's it. That's my entire goal, just to see what happens. If I make it? Sweet! Onto the next phase! If I don't? Sweet! Most of a draft is better than no draft! Onto the next phase!

Draft writing is just one spoke in a wheel, and you gotta keep it turning onto the next thing.

So, what's the end to all this? Should you never participate in nano? Should you denounce it to the heavens??? Man how would I know I'm just a mouse. These are questions you gotta ask yourself and sit with the answers. I think you should tailor nano to fit with you and how you write, but you're the only one who can accurately answer just what that means for you. If it means cranking out the whole 50k, good for you! If it means just trying to write once a day, perfect! Hell yeah get that habit forming! If it's some other kind of benchmark that works for you, good!

Just keep going after. That's all I ask, don't let someone else's arbitrary goals keep you from writing.

I love you go do good work I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!

Also hey if you read this far mind checking out my patreon or buying me a ko-fi? I've got discount commissions on my Patreon as well as access to all my backlog of one-shots forever, and I've got a $1+ donation doodle option on my ko-fi! Your support keeps me writing c: thanks!

[thefestival]

The Festival - Developer Log 6, 6/06/2024

Hello!

Following up from my last devlog a couple weeks back, one major thing I want to share today is the current outline for The Festival’s pilot quest, Hemmingward.

The first draft for this script was completed in Fall 2023, and in the past term Bekir reviewed the script in its entirety, raising several issues that I needed to address. The second draft of the script is currently in progress, though I don’t have an estimate on when exactly it will be completed.

What we do have completed is an outline of the second draft, which I am going to share with you all today. This outline is still subject to change, but this is the current version that I am working to flesh out and implement. The script is divided into three ‘acts’, primarily to make the overall script easier to read and work with.

This story is heavily based on the Bosnian film Snow/Snijeg (2008), by director Aida Begić. The central premise of a village having lost all its men and dealing with a visitor who, unbeknownst to them, was complicit in the loss of their men is taken straight from Snow.

I will detail the outline of the quest below the cut.

Hemmingward

Log Line

In pursuit of a secret recipe, Nishma is roped into solving a decade-long mystery, and putting a village’s trauma to rest.

Act I

Nishma and Gil to the hamlet of Hemmingward to obtain the recipe for Mandrake Meat, a plant-based substance that closely resembles red meat. The elderwomen of the village have offered to take part in Nishma’s festival, and they have invited her to their town to discuss their involvement.

However, she is not the only one who wants the recipe – a businessman named Helvan Dynicus is trying to buy it off the villagers.

Nishma and Gil run into Helvan shortly after they arrive in town. The girls sense there’s something off about the man, who attempts to rope Nishma into his scheme. After a brief exchange, Nishma and Gil continue on their way to meet with the elderwomen – Elders Margot, Camaltha, and Eurydice.

The duo sit down to have lunch with the elderwomen, who share the history of their town and their mandrake meat cuisine over a pleasant meal. However, things get complicated once the subject of Helvan Dynicus comes up. While Elder Margot is fully onboard with joining the festival, Elders Camaltha and Eurydice are reluctant to commit without first dealing with this mysterious interloper. Soon, they reveal to Nishma and Gil that they suspect Helvan of being a former military officer who came to Hemmingward years ago and rounded up all of the village's men.

When presented with this information, Nishma will be asked to investigate Helvan Dynicus’s true identity, using her connections to the Citizens Militia (the new ruling government of Eastoria) to find out if this man is indeed the same one as the officer who came 15 years prior.

In the full game, Nishma will have the option of accepting or refusing this quest. For this vertical slice, she will accept the elderwomen’s request, and she and Gil will set out to research what they can about this man (though Gil informs Nishma that they are way over their heads in accepting this responsibility).

After this inciting conversation, Nishma and Gil will place a call with Quartermaster Holmes, a Citizens Militia officer who is helping Nishma with logistical details for the festival.

Holmes is concerned by Nishma trying to carry out this investigation on her own, but nonetheless refers her to the Citizens Militia’s military archives as the place where she will most likely get an answer. With their new objective established, Nishma and Gil leave the village of Hemmingward to start their investigation.

Act II

We fast forward in time a few days. Nishma and Gil visit the military archives to begin their search for any paperwork or evidence pertaining to Helvan Dynicus and the village of Hemmingward. This section of gameplay will be mostly centered on reading documents. I would compare it to some of the side quests/minigames from Pentiment, where the protagonist takes time out of their day to learn some new information about both the world, and the quest at hand.

Eventually, Nishma will find a relevant paper detailing what happened at Hemmingward, but it’s vague in its details and Helvan’s name isn’t listed anywhere. Convinced that the name Helvan Dynicus must be an alias, and that he could still be one of the named officers listed, Nishma tries to gain access to a different part of the archive that could hold information on officer dossiers. However, she and Gil must convince an on-duty guard to let her into that part of the archive. Currently I have three solutions to this conundrum. Nishma can either:

Bribe the guard

Fetch an item of significance for the guard

Resolve an ideological dispute between him and someone else

Once one of these is completed, the guard will allow Nishma access to the other portion of the archive. Once there, Nishma will eventually find the dossier of one of the officers listed as being present at Hemmingward, and realize that he is indeed the same man as Helvan Dynicus. She and Gil will then head to Quartermaster Holmes to present their findings.

At this meeting, Nishma, Gil, and Holmes will discuss the logistics of apprehending Helvan, concluding that they have to work with the elderwomen of Hemmingward to arrest him. After this meeting, Nishma and Gil will call the elderwomen, and arrange to set another meeting as soon as possible.

Act III

Soon after their phone call, Nishma and Gil travel to Hemmingward with two other Citizens Militia soldiers. They meet once more with the elderwomen, along with Taemahra, another resident of the village who has had to deal with Helvan’s interference.

The elderwomen say that Helvan has been out of town for the past couple days, but that they can call him back with a false promise to negotiate a deal for their mandrake meat recipe. There is some conflict over what to do with Helvan once is in custody, with the elderwomen wanting to carry out justice for their men on their terms, and Gil wanting to bring Helvan in to stand trial for his actions. Nishma is able to persuade the elderwomen to go along with the plan to bring Helvan to trial for the time being, though they’re not fully convinced it’s the best idea.

The following day, Helvan returns to town to meet with the elderwomen at their old town hall to sign a deal with them, at which point Gil and the other soldiers spring their trap. They have Helvan in handcuffs, but Helvan manages to catch everyone off-guard by promising to show the elderwomen where their men are buried. At this point the elderwomen demand to have Helvan be handed over, but Gil refuses, and squabbles with elder Camaltha. Nishma is unable to intervene before Helvan throws down a smoke bomb to throw everyone off and cover his escape.

He doesn’t get far though before he runs outside and is shot in the leg by Taemahra, who was standing guard with her own rifle. Injured, Helvan succumbs to the ground, and is taken back inside the town hall by Gil and the soldiers. They and the elderwomen tend to Helvan’s wound while having him confined.

We fast forward a few hours. A crowd has gathered outside the town hall due to the commotion. The two soldiers previously accompanying Gil are posted outside to keep people at bay.

Once Helvan recovers enough to ‘talk’, the elderwomen press him for answers, with Gil and Nishma also asking him questions. It is here that Helvan’s polite façade from earlier disappears, and we see a truly rotten man who casts away all blame for what he did to the village’s men.

After a hostile conversation, the elderwomen agree they will execute Helvan, and go outside to speak with Taemahra about being their executioner. Gil runs after them, leaving Nishma alone with Helvan.

Helvan tries to appeal to Nishma’s kindness and desire to hold the festival (which was informed about in Act I in the first conversation) in an attempt to bribe her to let him survive. He explains he would rather stand trial with the Citizens Militia, believing he can plausibly explain his innocence. Nishma can make multiple choices here:

Accept the bribe and try to talk the elderwomen into letting him live

Reject the bribe but try to convince the elderwomen that it’s important for Helvan to be tried in a court of law

Reject the bribe and let the elderwomen kill him, convincing Gil that she and the others ought to step aside

Accept the bribe, but let the elderwomen kill him anyways

If Helvan is allowed to be killed, Taemahra and the elderwomen go back inside, with Taemahra executing Helvan with her rifle.

If Helvan is allowed to live, he will be escorted out by the two other soldiers. His expression will either be smug or worried, depending on if Nishma accepted the bribe or rejected it.

While Nishma can reject the bribe but still have Helvan stand trial, it’s presented in a different way from than if she agrees to go along with his plan. Nishma can point out to Helvan that it’s better he stand trial, not out of a sense of mercy, but because he must answer for any other crimes he may have committed. She also tries to argue – to him and to the elderwomen – that it’s important to use him to set a precedent for how other war criminals should be prosecuted by the Citizens Militia, a task they’ve historically had mixed success with as they’ve tried to present their new government as legitimate.

Ultimately, I wish to present both options – letting the elderwomen execute him, or letting him stand trial – as valid choices, where both have their strengths, and where the elderwomen are not judged for wanting to carry out revenge against the man who grievously harmed their village.

=====================================================

Thank you for reading this far! I would love to hear any feedback or critiques y’all may have, and I am glad I can finally share this outline with you all.

For my next post, I will try to do a character bio for Gil Yurez.

Lastly, a special thank you to Bekir for all his help in suggesting revisions and corrections for this quest.

[eclipsecrowned]

Kadi State of the Union 2023.

So. Went on vacation, got nice and relaxed, am actively looking for jobs and passively having a good time on here with what free time I find myself with. To this end, several days ago I asked you all what I should focus on moving forward, because as much as this is my blog, it is a testament to a collaborative hobby that requires communication and interaction with my peers here on the hellsite. The results I received told me that you all wanted me to focus on three core priorities: Drafts, plotting/developing dynamics, and muse info packets rather than full bios.

What does this mean moving forward?

Basically what it says on the tin.

I'm going to prioritize drafts over new threads and asks, just to help maintain a good habit towards ic interactions. This doesn't mean that I'll be drying up in terms of starters or new interactions, just that I'm going to refocus on replying to rather hoarding drafts like a dragon until I build a habit.

I'll also be reaching out to followers old and new to develop dynamics/interactions between muses, though I advise that this might take some time. I'm horribly anxious about new people, so forgive me if I come off a little too formal or 'odd' in OOC communication, I'll even out once I recognize you are not going to bite my head off or be mean to me. Honestly it's not you, it's me.

As for bios, I might find a simple character page code or multi carrd template I like and keep the 'brief biographical facts, short bio' thing I have going in my current 'temporary' muse page, and just link to larger muse info packets that include character overviews/verses/plot bunnies for canons and deeper bio info/10 key facts for OCs.

Beyond this, I plan on cleaning up my askbox -- At least removing symbol/name memes that I can no longer locate the original meme for. I genuinely enjoy having a tidy ask queue, so I might switch to that at some point in the future to space out asks/give myself time to tackle the beast it has become. For now, you might see me answering asks live until I get to a point I can comfortably draft/queue multiple asks and not burn out.

I am also, after this latest poll, putting a moratorium on adding new muses until I finish bios for the current muse list. I tend to get inspired to add new muses often, and it's not an issue for me or apparently my followers for me to continue to expand my cast. You guys are always down to clown with whoever I add, and I am never without interaction potential. I just worry it comes across like the bios will never get done at this rate, even though no one has said anything yet. This might lea to more fc polls, unfortunately for you all, bc there's always the chance that like with Severina's FC being way older than I anticipated I think I have things sorted out then find out last second they don't work for whatever reason.

TL;DR: Trying to be better for you guys and give you the content you want, your feedback has been heard loud and clear and I'm thankful for it, will see you guys on the flip side :3

[lavender-annd-lilac]

This is a thanksgiving post so I’m going to tag as many ppl as my brain allows, if I missed u I’m sorry 😭 there might not be anymore room left in my brain but there’s still lots of room left in my heart 🫶 and if I haven’t left a comment in a while it’s prob in my drafts so someday u will get hit with a wall of text accompanied by several out of date memes from outta nowhere lol

👾👾👾

So Canada had our thanksgiving a while ago, but I feel like a lot of y’all are American so I just want to say ❤️ty everyone for tolerating my unhinged comments and even reblogging them at the risk of offending/alienating your followers❤️

Here are a few things I’m thankful for 🙏

1.) Ty for not blocking me when my comments are like:

2.) Ty for liking my bizarre comments that derail the current train of thought like:

3.) Ty for your positive response to my comments even when they offer little to no insight eg:

4.) Ty for understanding that when I leave comments like:

I’m just trying to express sincere appreciation for your fic in the only way I know how

🥲

5.) Ty for not sending me cease and desist letters when I make bad puns like:

6.) Ty for being patient through my rambling comment intros addressed to no one in particular like:

7.) Ty for accepting my unconventional endorsements like:

8.) Ty for not deleting my comments when I’m being annoying like:

9.) Ty for putting up with tags like:

10.) Ty for answering my silly questions like:

✨And TY for all the fics u guys write, the gifs/img edits u make, when u post little jokes, or thots, or stuff about your day, or opinions on life, or pics of your pets ✨

As u can prob tell I’m not the best at leaving like, genuine heartfelt praise-type comments…. so I do my best to leave genuine heartfelt memes and gifs 💖 but I want y’all to know that your work means a lot to me beyond the haha moments even if I don’t talk about that stuff 😳

I’m like the Rick Grimes character in Love Actually who can only communicate his affection through cue cards (except replace cue cards with my parody-style comments):

Btw this makes u guys Kiera Knightly 🤩

A lot of the time I might say stuff that inadvertently comes off as rude or sarcastic but what I actually mean is that I admire u and TO ME Y’ALL ARE PERFECT 💗

@imyourbratzdoll @thenhewaswrongaboutme @secretswiftymarvelfan @blindmagdalena @georgiapeach30513 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @straywords @cherienymphe @junipermuses @luxeavenger @syntheticavenger @rustytricycle @littlelioncub43 @wayward-blonde @xieyaohuan @makeyoumine69 @royalsweetteaa @abbatoirablaze @lloydsbitch @hansensgirl @charnelhouse @navybrat817 @sunshinebuckybarnes @sidepartskinnyjeans @thetrashstache @kinanabinks @the-iceni-bitch @honeystevie @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @boxofbonesfic @st3rgirl @runa-falls @angrythingstarlight @heli0s-writes @traitorjoelite @fortheloveoffanfic @venusstorm @jtargaryen18 @onsunnyside @speechlessxx @adrinktostopyourthirst

[adhd-merlin]

✨ and 🎁 !!

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

Haha, this is kinda funny because I made a post a few days ago about my 2 all-time favourite comments, but then I got self-conscious and deleted it ;_; (they were about a different fandom and from like a decade ago, anyway).

I love and appreciate all comments, from the single heart emoji to those that are several paragraphs long (I mean, especially the latter, because someone put some time into writing all that, and they didn't have to).

I'm not going to pick any individual comments this time but I do especially love comments that quote a sentence/paragraph from my fic that the commenter particularly liked. It's so nice because someone paid enough attention to notice something about my writing, which is very flattering. But also it's interesting as a writer to see what's struck a chord with a reader.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Sure, why not. This might change, but here is a sneak peek from my current draft:

As [Arthur] holds the crossbow up to his face and aligns the barrel to his eye, his attention narrows down to the point of his bolt, and the red centre of the target in the distance. Just for a breath, there’s no space in his mind for anything else. “Arthur,” a familiar voice says, just a step behind him. Arthur starts. His finger slips on the trigger and the bolt shoots off the barrel. He whips around with a bitten-off curse before he can see where it lands, finding himself face to face with his manservant. “I should put a bell on you.” Merlin regards him without a hint of contrition. There’s something very casual about the way he’s holding himself, hands clasped behind his back, like he just so happened to wander into the training field at a time when it’s completely deserted, save for Arthur himself.

— fanfic writer ask game | prev answers

[moonlightknightess]

in open relationship au, eren and sasha will have seggs in the room next to mikasa who is having a zoom meeting. make mikasa fcking horny.

As i said before, I feel like in this AU they wouldn't enjoy that much to see each other when they are doing it with other people 👀 They can get very jealous despite being fine with their respective partner enjoyng themselves on the side (it doesn't make sense ik but it's just sooo funny 🤣) So they would try to be careful not to do anything with anyone if the other one is close!

But my EreMikaSasha side really wants to dwell into this scenario so much you got no idea 🤭

Not proof readed!

PS: This ask has been sitting on my drafts for so much time i even forgot i was answering it lol

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She could hear the not so subtle creak of the bed frame hitting the wall behind her, loud bangs of wood clashing against the hard material of the only barrier that divide them becoming stronger the more she starts to pay attention to it, the grunts of pleasure coming at full force on the room next to hers to a point where she fears the microphone would pick up at the sound of his husband and her bestfriend going at it

She knows Eren Yeager just as much as she knows herself, sometimes even better than herself to be honest, so the fact that she was seeing this coming from a mile was not as surprising as someone would think, afterall, he can be a vindicative asshole whenever he feels like he felt wronged in some way, plus it wasn't rocket science to figure out why would her come home with someone else right at the time where she had an important zoom meeting with her coworkers, especially considering how not too long ago the situation was the other way around

In her defense, she didn't know that in that particular day he was coming home sooner than expected, if she really knew, she would have the decency of taking Jean to a motel room instead of going at it in their house, right in front of the living room table where Eren took a prime view of them when he entered his house

It's not like he got a problem with Jean or anything, he already knew she got a interest for him and they always were open about the people they wanted to do things with just so they avoid making the other one unconfortable, it just made things run smoothly between them, plus, his whole frenemy dynamic with Jean ended right at college graduation

What probably annoyed him though was how he wasn't the only one who saw them, if the several people behind him and the missed messages on her phone left forgotten because of the heat of the moment were any indication of it, messages that were meant to tell her he was having a job meeting at their house...

Obviously several messy explanations had to be made, a new place had to be found, her face glowing red for an entire week at the ocassional thought of unknown people seeing her in such state and his fiance trying so hard to explain how she was not cheating on him

She truly wanted to die right there

Leaving that story for another day, she kept focusing on the matter at hand as much as she could, her boss explaining something about the raise of production of their company as her mind kept dwelling into the havoc that his husband was creating in the room next to her

She is not sure if this is him just paying her with the same coin, but she really couldn't stop him when he came home and locked himself in the guest room, the too excited voice of Sasha asking him if it was really ok for her to be here since Mikasa was home before he seemed to shut her up for good, Mikasa locked in her room since this was an important meeting that she should focus on

But it was so hard to be honest, Eren was not really quiet when it comes to sex and Sasha wasn't any better, the several moans he was eliciting out of her sneaking their way to her head, her brain putting images in her mind that made her folds sting with something akin to arouse as her mind toyed with her

She could feel it already, even if she was not with them in the same room she could perfectly tell how Eren was pounding her from behind like a piston, hips creating shockwaves of pleasure in Sasha's bunddle of nerves that would make her toes curl into themselves, ecstasy filling her whole selve as she was filled to the brim with Eren's impresive lenght, several curses leaving their mouths as the knock in her wall started to increase

She really didn't know if she wanted to knock some sense into them, she might need to since it's not like she deserved this in the slightest

But at the same time, some sick, deep part of her mind really wants them to keep going... To enjoy the little performace they were pulling out in which she was their only expectator

She doesn't know when it started, maybe she has been this way since the beginning, or maybe it just something that came along when they opened their relationship, but whenever the images of his husband with her bestfriend comes to her mind she can't help but get excited at the idea of them in the same bed, her hands more often than not making their way down where she is oozing and dripping just at the mere idea of it

It's not even something that happens with every single partner Eren has had, quite the opposite actually, she hardly ever thinks about it, so far just Sasha is the one who can awaken this feeling inside of her that makes want dwell more into it, not sure if its the thrill of getting some as close to her as Sasha with her significant other or if it is the satisfaction she feels whenever she gets to see Eren bent her and shape her to his will and every demand, knowing that in the end she was still the woman of his life

Who knows, it might as well be because Sasha was the girl who she went with to experiment about her sexual identity and just enjoyed her time with her

Yeah, maybe thats why she couldn't help herself even if she tried, this time it was not her imagination which got the better of her, she got the real deal right on the room next to hers, the delicious sounds of slippery skin meeting skin making their way to her brain and her hand rubbing soothing circles at the pace they made those ground breaking moans, thighs twitching the more Eren's quickens his tempo and the more she hears Sasha moan his name like her life depends on it, her avaliable hand pinching her nipple in hopes to alleviate the fires of hell that was consuming her whole self right there, trying so hard to mimick at least a fraction of their lustful share, to alleviate her body from the stress of being forced to participate in this meeting that doesn't really served a fucking purpose and just-

- ... Miss Ackerman? - She heard someone say, the broken microphone of one of her bosses making her snap her eyes open and take her hands away from her below, a coat of arousal dripping fron her fingers as the noises of his husband and her bestfriend never stopped

- ... It seems like your neighboors are... lively right now... It would be prudent if you deactivate your micrpohone for the time being -

Shame washes over her as she makes a quick apology for it, quickly deactivating the device, her mind so absorted in the heat of the moment and forgetting about the important things yet again and at the same time so thankful they thought it was her neighbours who were doing those sounds

Thank god she got the camera turned off...

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.

When the meeting is finally over and she hurries her way to them, she finds them exactly as she imagine she would, with a Sasha set in his husband's chest shaking to the core and struggling to breath, the room a mess of clothes discarded to the floor and filled with a funny smell that makes her nose sting

-Hey - He welcomes her, a cocky smile set on his lips as he decides it is the perfect time to snaps his hips up and elicit a moan out of Sasha from where they are still connected, gushing her juices out and creating the nastiest of the sounds as he did so, forcing her to muffle her moans in the crook of his neck - Thought you weren't comming -

She doesn't evene bother to come up with a witty answer, instead of that getting right to the action by gently shoving Sasha away and getting her damped panties to the side, teasing his still standoing manhood with her slippery folds and provoking him to curse through his teeth, with Sasha giving him kiss on the lips as if trying to calm him down, the sight of them making her shove her hips down and get some of their attention

When Eren finally grabs her by the hips and Sasha makes her way up to her, that's when she finally feels at ease, the hard jab of his dick stirring her insides as Sasha gets closer, foreheads touching and lips whispering - Welcome back - before she robes the air out of her lungs with just a mere touch on her meaty button, the open mouthed kiss she gives her afterwards serving to start the night for real this time...