#it’s been wild but i have some time to be present here🤍

[kithtaehyung]

hi, y’all! i think i’m semi-free today so i’ll be here in a little bit while i re-organize my office space🥳

[idontknowreallywhy]

Shine

This little scene arose out of a discussion with @edutainer2022 about a headcanon we share re the boys’ Mom and this lovely fic.

Fluff, with the tiniest glimmer of sad (only just because I love her but she’s no longer with them).

Featuring tiny feral toddler Scotty and a very much besotted husband 💙🤍💕

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The speaker paused, her eyes twinkling as they always did when she knew the punchline and couldn’t wait to tell it. She completed the joke to an appreciative roar of laughter, a smattering of applause and one enthusiastic whoop.

Jeff wasn’t convinced that more than 50% of the room could actually have entirely got it… niche was an understatement. She’d had to explain several recent controversies from the world of experimental astrophysics to him last night before he appreciated that that particular part of the twelfth rewrite of her speech was actually funny on three different levels… but it didn’t matter.

You didn’t have to be married to this woman to know she could read out a grocery list and carry the adoring audience along with her. There was a reason it was the keynote after all.

She’d been so nervous. Same as she was before every paper she’d presented in all the time he’d known her. She’d agonised over the content of every class she’d given, no matter how small. He’d watched her pace the floor for a fortnight, glaring at her tablet in between bouts of frantic typing and clutching at her increasingly wild hair as she growled “WHY ME?” at the ceiling.

“Because you’re brilliant and they love you.”

This had become Jeff’s habitual refrain as he multitasked to perfection - simultaneously reassuring his wife while retrieving their tiny son from the top of the bookcase, the window ledge or, on one notable occasion which thankfully she still knew nothing of - inside the fridge.

She’d huff, never believing him. And yet, as he presumed was the case every time, as soon as she started speaking she relaxed.

And she shone.

Dr Lucille Tracy hadn’t taken the guest lectureship with much thought to the actual ‘lecturing’ part of it at all. That was just the quid pro quo. The offer of a close collaboration with those at the cutting edge of her field, the unparalleled opportunity to continue her research with the help of the brightest young minds - it should have been a no-brainer.

In the ordinary circumstances of their life, however, it would have been far too much alongside the remote but demanding day job at NASA, the all-day-and-most-of-the-night job raising a toddler whirlwind and the exhausting 24/7 secret mission of growing his sibling.

Jeff melted a little more as the love of his life shifted her stance behind the lecturn and ran a hand absently over the rapidly increasing bump. Alright, so they were probably long past the covert stage of that one now… she complained she was heavy and slow but was overtly glowing with life.

Again, Jeff thanked the stars she loved so much (and which she absolutely refused to countenance having any impact on their luck whatsoever don’t be ridiculous, Jefferson) that he’d had a well-timed hiatus in missions necessitated by the development and testing of the longer range craft that would hopefully carry him on the next one. He’d taken some rather belated paternity leave and insisted she take up the offer. And here they were.

And she was good at it. Very good.

Jeff had done public speaking training both at college and for work and he knew every trick in the book. But there were things that couldn’t be taught. Some things weren’t tricks after all.

He got the respect, sometimes a little awe from the younger ones. People followed Jeff because they respected him, because he spoke persuasively and, well, because he told them to. They hung on Lucy’s every word because her natural warmth and playfulness drew them in and the fact she seemed somehow to care deeply for each of them meant they stayed. That what she said was brilliant was almost secondary. The fact they happened to be learning from the best was a by-product. People just wanted to be near her.

It was the very reason he’d walked straight past his usual table in the NASA cafeteria that day, and found himself sat amongst a group of strangers listening to her tell some story about a cat in the observatory… or possibly it was a raccoon… he forgot the details but it didn’t matter. He was caught in her orbit and hadn’t regretted it for a second.

Despite the fact this wasn’t even a lecture, only a welcoming speech and that frankly they’d listen to and love any old thing she could come up with - Lucy redrafted and redrafted right up to the last minute, searching for the perfection she felt she owed them. Jeff, more of a rock up and wing it kind of guy, was occasionally exasperated but couldn’t ever convince her it was good enough to leave well alone.

He’d finally persuaded her to grab a couple of hours sleep when Scott had scaled his patently falsely marketed ‘unclimbable toddler gate’ and leaped into bed between the two of them. The kid even wriggled in his sleep. Jeff supposed they should be thankful the tiny flailing elbow hadn’t given her a black eye for her big day.

Their son squealed and bounced excitedly in his Dada’s arms and pointed up at Mommy’s face smiling down at them from the enormous screen and then at the smaller 3D figure on the stage. Jeff knew he shouldn’t really have brought him, but both sets of grandparents had been unavailable and Lee had looked frankly terrified at the prospect of solo responsibility for preventing young ‘Steve’ from leaping off high objects. There were some things you just didn’t inflict on your wingman. He redirected the little guy’s kicking feet from the poor chap in the next seat and helped them find the ground but kept a firm grip on his shoulders

“I know, Scotty, she’s wonderful isn’t she?” He murmured. “But we have to be quiet so everyone can hear her ok?”

The little boy nodded seriously and stood, jiggling quietly between Jeff’s knees, his rapt attention on the screen, his little fists opening and closing by his sides.

Jeff had lost the thread of the speech for a moment, he already knew it so well he hadn’t really been listening to the words as much as the cadence of her voice.

Clearly everyone else had though, as a sudden swell of chattering indicated they were following her instruction to spend five minutes discussing some particular point with their neighbour. It was a cunning ploy to give her chance to take a breath, a swig of water and to check through her mostly abandoned notes to ensure she hadn’t missed anything important.

Jeff bent to help Scott retrieve the multitude of brightly coloured plastic aircraft scattered across the floor in front of them before they became a trip hazard. At least their seats at the far end of the front row meant there was plenty of room for a little chaos.

An elderly gentleman tapped him on the shoulder, a look of expectation on his face and Jeff raced to remember what the prompt had actually been about. He failed, but scrabbled to introduce himself anyway, basking a little in the spark of recognition at the surname and the fact that in this crowd it was his connection to Her that merited it, rather than the minor NASA-specific fame that was attached to anyone who’d spent serious time on Alfie.

He smiled encouragingly as his neighbour launched into an excitable tirade about gamma ray bursts and wondered how far through the five minute break they were. Maybe he should take the opportunity to sneak one of Scotty’s snacks out of the small bag stashed under his chair. As soon as there was a decent gap in this chap’s monologue he’d apologise and…

The atmosphere suddenly changed as the hundreds of conversations shifted in tone from academic to amused with a heavy smattering of “awwwww!” The garrulous gamma enthusiast stopped and looked up and Jeff seized his moment, grabbing a cereal bar with his left hand and reaching for his son with the other.

The right hand closed on air.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh he had messed up so very, very badly.

Reluctantly lifting his eyes to the only raised object in the room he was just in time to see the curly-haired Houdini complete his speed-toddle across the huge stage and leap into the arms of his crouching Mommy, who looked up and raised a mildly exasperated eyebrow in the direction of his guilt-ridden but helpless father.

He went to stand and approach the front of stage to retrieve his wayward offspring but she shook her head ever so slightly and stood up, hefting Scott a little higher so that his little legs straddled her swollen belly and turned back to the podium.

“I’d like to introduce you all, in person, to my most devoted research assistant. Some of you may remember him from such video conferences as “the one where the laptop learned to fly”, or “the one with the high pitched screaming” and not forgetting my personal favourite “the one with the minor explosion”… say hello to the nice astrophysicists, Scotty.”

There was more laughter, applause and a few more enthusiastic whoops. One of those might have been Jeff.

Scott, who had been making a grab for the microphone looked up at the sudden cacophony and blinked rapidly in the lights. He caught sight of his Dada and waved manically and Jeff couldn’t do anything other than wave back. His wife, free hand resting on the top of the podium, caught his eye and the soft little crinkles at the corners reassured him she wasn’t at all cross and the subtle little three-finger wave in his direction told him how glad she was he was there.

Lucy lifted her gaze to the rest of the audience and cleared her throat.

“Anyway… back to pulsars.”

The captivated crowd immediately silenced as she leapt again into the detail of the research group’s recent discoveries. She showed the way, they followed.

She carried them all with her.

Filled with pride, Jeff drifted to the sound of her voice and luxuriated in the invisible warmth she radiated, strong enough to bathe every soul in the room.

***

The assembled delegates laughed again and applauded and the speaker grinned. The noise died down slowly and he waited for absolute silence, eyes twinkling in the way they always had when he knew the punchline and couldn’t wait to share it. Of course, half the audience were TI employees and knew precisely what the CEO was unveiling - many of them had been working on it for months after all. And yet there wasn’t a metaphorical buttock in the auditorium that wasn’t perched on the edge of its metaphorical seat. It was just the way of things - he showed the way, they followed.

He carried them all with him.

“Anyway… back to that little announcement I promised you.”

There were a few whoops (one might have been Jeff).

The keynote speaker looked up and caught his father’s eye, the soft little crinkles at the corners revealing how delighted he was to see him there. Scott raised three fingers from the edge of the lectern in a subtle salute before continuing.

Filled with pride, Jeff drifted to the sound of his voice and luxuriated in the invisible warmth his son radiated, strong enough to bathe every soul in the room.

And she shone.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

[oh-saints]

Hii 😊

i’m so glad you’re taking requests, your martin fics are my favs !!!! i feel this should have been out there from before: aftercare with martin. Where he is so gentle and takes the best care of you after you have sex..

Thank you 🤍

awww thank you my love <3 and i do agree with you, someone should've done this earlier THEREFORE may i present you...

aftercare

sex with martin is a guaranteed unparalleled time, but what happens after is even more wonderful…

martin odegaard x you

wc: 0.7k

tw: only filthy beginning and some suggestive words here and there, no biggie (?)

note: my brain's still fried from work so... request is still open & you can drop them here

“you look so good riding me like this, min kjæreste,”

and martin didn’t even have an ounce of lie in his words.

cowgirl was always his most favourite sex position because he could see your face and body in full coverage, not hidden beneath his body, as you rode him good. he could never get bored of taking in your facial features contorted in pleasures while your chest arched, giving him the most beautiful pair of boobs on display, and your hips went rotating in his lap, providing enough friction to drive you both to the edge.

“martin,” you gasped as your hands went from supporting your weight on his knees to reaching his shoulders, and it was pretty much his sign that your legs were giving up. “please… I’m so close.”

the boyfriend didn’t need another word before holding you by the waist, lifting you up and down. the slapping sound was so loud it drove you wild because you were this close yet so far, so you reached down your clit with a hand. the moment the pad of your middle finger caressed your bud—it felt so liberating as you crashed down on a free fall, but you knew you would always be safe because your boyfriend would always catch you.

and catch you, he did. he gathered you in his arms as you went pulsating from head to toe from your orgasm, despite the fact he was also reaching his own ends. you didn’t need to know more, other than the fact that you could feel his cum dripping down against your inner thighs, but it always amazed you how he would always put your well-being first even in this condition.

he gently rocked you back and forth, while stroking you from the top of your head down to the ends of your hair, until he could feel the vibrations stopped coming from you. you let out a huge sigh on the crook of his neck, where you took shelter while you were hugging him tight, and that would be his sign to let you go little by little.

“hi, vennen,” he whispered as you tried to meet his eyes, no matter how much the sleepiness starting to kick in. “you did absolutely amazing.”

while you knew he was bluffing, solely for the reason you’d never lasted long enough for your liking, you didn’t complain. the way he tucked your hair to the back of your ears ever so softly soothed your displeasure towards your stamina, so you smiled at him. “hello to you, too, my love. can we not move because I’m so tired?”

martin would always say yes to this, at least while you were awake. but as soon as sleep took over your body and soul, he lifted you up and around so you could lie back on the bed, not wanting you to wake up with an ached body and bad posture. it was only then he pulled himself out of you.

in all honesty, martin hated the sensation. he hated losing you; he loved being around you, which included but not limited to being inside of you. but he hated more to sleep before he could clean up himself, so he dragged his own feet to the bathroom to clean himself before he brought a basket full of aftercare products—something he had prepared for since a long time ago because he knew you’d pass out soon after your orgasm.

at this point of your relationship, martin had already had a routine of aftercare sequence. he started by cleaning the dirty streak of his cum in between your thighs, before moving to rub your favourite coconut oil on spots you’d mentioned previously would turn sore the next day. if you were wearing your hair tied that day, he’d pluck off the hairband and comb the strands until the knots were gone.

of course you’d squirm lightly while he was cleaning you up, but after everything was said and done, martin would kiss the crown of your head, the middle space between your eyebrows, and your lips. and despite knowing you couldn’t hear him, the Norwegian young captain would whisper good night, min kjæreste against your lips before sleep discovered him too.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

*min kjæreste means "my dearest" in norwegian

*vennen means "love" in norwegian

^^pls cmiiw if i get this wrong

[a-strange-inkling]

If it were up to you ( one of the best hellcheer fanfiction writer) what would you fix or change about the fight of Icarus?

Aw shux, that’s high praise! I really don’t think I’m worthy of that, but thank you 🤍

Oh God… what a laundry list 😆 read at your own risk below (I think I’ve finally run out of things to say about this book and will be moving on now 😅)

I’m going to be honest, the best way fo fix it would be to not write a book. Point blank. If I was involved with the show at all I would have NEVER written a book about Eddie in any official capacity. I don’t know if the author was aware of just how unhinged certain parts of his fanbase are (I’m sure she is now) but you’re not going to make anyone happy with this. Eddie’s ridiculously popular yes, I get it, but part of his appeal for people was how untouched his background was.

Flight of Icarus is kind of a mess plot wise with pretty weak/poor characterizations. There’s some good elements and scenes in it. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either. It’s pretty mid. I mean books based on tv shows aren’t exactly known for their… luster. It’s obviously going to lack the passion of an unpaid fanfic writer who has spent endless hours watching season 4 and doing in-depth research and analysis for their work… but that’s what we’re all used to. That’s our standard. So it’s kind of already set up for failure.

But, if I was in charge of a book like this, here’s some of the things I would do differently:

I’d have picked ONE main plot to focus on because there is way too much going on in these 280 pages for me to have the time to be invested or care about anything. There’s like three plus storylines going on with Eddie all to push ONE narrative which is basically him choosing between risking everything for a fantasy/dream of fame and money or staying true to himself and what’s real which is the steadfast loyalty of his friends and family. This takes the form of Al vs Wayne, Paige vs Ronnie, LA vs Hawkins, solo career vs band/hellfire, dropping out to try to become a rockstar vs being the first Munson to graduate, who Eddie wants to be vs who he truly is deep down.

It’s just too much.

I’d have taken a little more time making Eddie three dimensional. I know he’s a side character, but a lot of heart and thought went into creating him (at least on Joe’s end). I’d have made more conscious choices for his character, especially if he’s narrating in first person (I would have not used first person). His outer dialog is great (the dialog throughout the whole thing is actually really great, you can tell the author’s a screen writer and it’s one of the stronger elements to the book) but his inner monologue is pretty ooc and at times really off. He lacks a lot of the things that drew people to him in the first place or it’s just not as strongly presented I guess. He doesn’t feel fully formed.

If I was going to give Eddie a love interest (I don’t know why you would do that to yourself at this point, his fanbase is volatile at best and either ships him with Steve, Chrissy, or themselves, no one is going to like it) I’d have given her WAY better writing than an immersive wattpad character with little to no character traits outside of her aesthetic and interests which is an alternative style and liking music. Wow. Groundbreaking. I would have her make decisions based on a fully formed personality verses the convenience of the plot. And if not, if she’s going to be a means to an end, I’d at least go all in and make her wild or evil or a total bitch or conniving or funny or grumpy or goofy or something. She’s not given enough focus or time to be well rounded so I’d just have fun and go batshit crazy with her (don’t worry Paige, you’re mine now and I will give you an actual character and vindication).

Eddie choosing between his dad and Wayne would have probably been the plot I picked to focus on and I would have really dived into that. The good, bad and the ugly of the Munson family. Because Al (that would not be his name btw 🤢) and Wayne reflect the two sides of Eddie’s character. A charming, self serving, cowardly asshole and a good, strong and kind person who protects and looks after others. I like Ronnie a lot and she’s probably the best written character in the book, but Wayne needed to have more spotlight for this.

I’d have definitely made the plot a lot less fantastical and way more of a simple character study. Just Eddie deciding between embracing the infamy of the Munson family or choosing to rise above it. Does he decide to scheme and cheat like his dad to get more out of life or does he do the right thing and stay the course to actually graduate and make something of himself. That’s it. All that’s needed. Eddie getting a shot at being a rockstar at eighteen in Hawkins is already kind of odd, especially when his in is a twenty year old “junior scout”??? Who just happens to be at his dive bar and have the hots for him and fucks him and pretty much offers him a life in LA on a silver platter with no issues other than having to bail on his band and high school club?? It’s… a bit much for our unlucky loser boy we see in the show. Book Eddie is as lucky as they come, but he’s a total dumbass and decides to trust and scheme with his deadbeat father??? Who has always failed him? Why? I get he needs money but his kinda girlfriend’s got a job and he’s pretty much got a record deal. What even is this? That whole storyline would be scrapped to hell. But hey, at least it’s more believable than an actual drug heist and a kingpin and a shoot out. Oh and arson. It’s giving… *shivers* Riverdale and not in a good way.

Lastly, I’d have taken the opportunity to develop characters from the show a little more. Not a ton, but like the author did with Higgins. I really like how he was written in the novel. He had a lot of fire and personality out of nowhere which was kind of hilarious. I probably would have expanded Jason the most actually, I’d have added more to that tense rivalry. And I’d have left Chrissy pretty much out of it. The talent show is best left to the imagination and we already have a delicate narrative between them because of the forest scene. I wouldn’t want to add too much there. But she’d have a cameo for sure. Like brief eye contact or a shared smile or something at the very end of the book. Just a little glimmer of what’s to come. I’m also a Eddie has always had a little bit of a thing for Chrissy truther, so in my bias I might have him quietly admire her from afar or something.

And there you go.

I mean you’re going to get my version of his backstory eventually anyway and bonus he and Chrissy live, get married and have kids. Yay!

[longeyelashedtragedy]

gimme a whole speech on the writing of visited upon the sons, pls

ok! i hope you mean this for real and aren't going to laugh at me for giving a whole long serious answer (omg sometimes the 'i was a weird kid' instinct kicks in) but i assume your kindness 💙🤍

random trivia: i almost never write with music on, cause my head is so wild about music that it's too distracting, but i wrote this with "money" by pink floyd on repeat and i'm honestly not sure why? (i also wrote "digestif" listening to motorhead...not sure why either but u gotta roll with it)

where to start...

i wrote a really big chunk of the beginning while standing under some scaffolding waiting for a freak summer downpour to end so i could go get iced coffee. that's my favorite way to write--in a weird place on my notes app full of autocorrect mistakes and other things like that because i'm so in the zone that my brain is going way too fast for my fingers to keep up.

i was sooooo Absorbed in fact that i didn't realize until a couple days later that i had written it really oddly without realizing? You know how in 3rd person pov even if you're writing one person's perspective and you're in their head so you know their emotions, thoughts etc, you still narrate with the character's name? Like...Mason chokes on the the sip of water he was trying to take.  “Uhhh…that’s kind of fucked up?” he manages to squeak out in between coughs.  This is making him think things he doesn’t want to think doesn’t want to think doesn’t want to—He coughs again and runs his fingers nervously through his fluffy hair. that kind of thing? what i realized is that i had written this POV really strangely and tho frank is the POV he never refers to himself by name? is that a thing? i was like "well that's weird" and tried to fix it but the fic refused...it made the POV feel too distant when the point of the fic is that he's increasingly lost in his own mind. the closer you as the reader are to that, the better. i trust my writing instincts like--if i instinctively wrote that way then it must have been for a reason! (note that the middle section is written in the "traditional" 3rd person way which again just--felt way better because that section is soooooort of a coherent narrative--which is also kinda done for a reason)

however this meant i had to repeat mason's name WAY more than sounds natural so it wasn't confusing, and if i just Did that with no explanation, that's the kind of thing i'd pick up on as a reader and would consider to be unforgivably bad writing. so, i called it out directly in the fic, and gave it an in-world reason, which then actually became the fic summary 😂 (Mason, his Mason—It’s the repetition that dulls the emotions (some people would call that repression, wouldn’t they, but that word implies something wrong with one’s mental state and there’s nothing wrong at all) My fic my rules!

this fic was written really in like, 2 or 3 days of writing. it was nearly impossible to just write little bits here and there. this pov was very demanding of my full attention because i also had to disappear into franko's mind to write it and it's hard to just like, do that when you have 10 spare minutes. because of this i almost gave up on it because it felt like i'd never be able to regain the momentum of the first writing day and also--also--i struggled with the structure SO HARD. my initial plan was to have the fic start out normally, and then intersperse frank's memories with the present, and each time he re-joins the present from a memory he gets more and more fucked up. (and of course, mason is clueless to it at first, and then he's all ?????) you can see lil remnants of this throughout--i think mostly in the beginning when he pours the rosé. (His fist clenches around the bottle as he pours and Mason catches that too. For fuck’s sake, he’s not supposed to.) Initially, the first section of the memories section--Dad getting too worked up about young!frank wanting to drink something pink--was going to come right before that, so there was a direct context--oh, he's remembering that while he pours. BUT--

that happened to work there, but i realized if i kept doing it like this i was going to be imposing something way too restrictive on the rest of the fic. i'd have to create each bad memory and then make the corresponding "present day" section relate to that memory and there'd be no way to make that happen naturally without seriously forcing some part of the story, and who wants that? this got me so stressed out especially as the (self-appointed) King of the Flashback that i wondered if i should just leave them out altogether. somehow i decided to write all of the flashbacks i would want to have in an entirely separate document, and then just write the "present" parts all at once, and then decide how i'd want to combine them.

2nd trivia point: because of this, this was one of the only fics in recent memory i've ever written relatively in order from start to finish. usually i write a beginning and an end and then fuck around in no order in the middle till it's done.

i can't quite remember what happened next, but i think i then did skip a bit to writing the end, and suddenly my mind wanted to develop something that came up earlier in the fic, at the beginning, where he refers to the feeling of something pursuing him. i think i meant that more in a vague sense at the time, and wasn't going to explore it, but (maybe something from @new-berry inspired me? possibly?) considering how fucked-up i wanted him to be at the end vs the beginning, and how coming out of a dissociative episode your relationship to yourself and to the world around you can be really wonky and fucked up--at least in my personal experience--i realized what if i could make that concept a lot more Real, and put in the imagery of a ghost in the room. but what kind of ghost? well, obviously not an uwu scary ghost, but you can come to your own conclusions as to what he thinks is "haunting" him.

this meant that i could write that last paragraph, which sincerely is one of my fav endings i've written in a long time, and as often happens when i write endings, the whole fic then made sense to me. and i realized instead of writing scattered memories and having frank's behavior in the present Escalated, i was going to drop the entire memories narrative into the fic in one big chunk, creating a story within a story, and have it be so all consuming that he completely loses track of what is happening. (which i feel like is an especially wild thing to do while you're having a Sexual Encounter and thus leaves mason rightfully disturbed--love me some Wretched Sex!!! sorry!)

i had a couple people tell me they completely forgot what was supposed to be happening while they were reading it, which made me so happy because that was what i wanted!

when i see this mf i see a dude who is so tormented and repressed and shaped by how he was treated as a kid. his dad made football his life so oppressively (in some ways) that he has, as he's said, no hobbies other than football and reading and now that football is no longer a good place for him there's just nothing left. add that to the fact that he clearly has never ever really healed from his mom's death in 2008 (and you can say a lot about his disingenuousness and lack of accountability as a coach, but the extended part about how he dealt with grief and loss on the diary of a ceo podcast was so fuckin real and it was a bit wild to see a famous person be so open) i feel like someone like this has a mind like a haunted house and can't quite go about things "normally." i wanted to create this feeling in the fic.

the best writing experiences turn into therapy sessions and when i was done writing i realized that i was expressing something about myself through it, which is how uncomfortable i feel in situations with a lot of very cishet expectations, as someone who is VERY not het and stealthily very not cis. i had already known this of course from conversations with coworkers, but this fic made me realize how much i fucking resent it--how much anger i feel toward it really--which was...interesting to learn about myself i guess.

anyway that's visited upon the sons for ya. i'm sure i left something out, but i feel sad that i'm no longer writing it, cause it was one of those experiences that make me think writing is fun. i always think writing is fun, but you know what i mean?

(footnote: my fic that i've been referring to as 'bitter mutual cheating' takes place around 2 months after this one, and it's from mason's POV and he reduces the whole upsetting experience to one line (Frank sounds panicked, and there’s only one other time that Mason can remember hearing him sound like this–that night with the West Ham jersey where Frank seemed to go kind of crazy and he had to tell the guys in the dressing room that it was his sister’s cat who had scratched the shit out of his back) which is just kind of a fun mindfuck for me. 7000+ words of agony but all mason even was aware of was...that, lol.)

(OH, i forgot! in the last line: Holding his Mason tight like it loves him, that word "like" is important. is he realizing--just for a moment--that his "love" for Mason is just kind of a placeholder for something else? someone else? we'll see...)

[midgaarb]

Winter has returned to these lands this past week, and this is the view from my home! We’ve had a snowstorm, wild hail, ice, endless rain in between, wind that took out so many trees. And it’s not over just yet. I’ve been off of here for the past week, and it’s been a very cathartic experience to have winter return during my time away. These past few weeks I’ve been struggling to feel inspired due to my account being so deeply suppressed. Being so excited to post something I worked very hard on, and have it not shown to anyone was a horrible feeling I took so personally. I’ve realized how much my spirit and work thrives off interacting with others, and how much my motivation and inspiration comes from bringing joy to people. But this sudden return of winter, my time away, the trees that fell in the storms put things in perspective for me. This past week I camped in the cold rainy forest by the ocean with some amazing humans, while sharing my Moontime with the land. I was able to be present and travel inwards without distraction. I’ve started to release these fears I’ve had festering and ground myself back to what I know to be true. The unpredictability of weather reminded me there are so many opportunities and possibilities yet to explore. My inspiration feels re-fueled and being off of here, I had time to plan on so many exciting things for this spring & summer! Ways to further connect with people in person (and online) that will feel much more fulfilling to my soul. More on this coming soon. “Wild Waters” essence & elixir has really awakened my appreciation for my own unpredictable internal waters. I feel realigned with the Wild. The magic of the unpredictable waters all around me. Taking appreciation in the unknown ebs and flows helps me to feel more powerful. Like I can tackle any situation out of my control when they arise. So many wisdoms and mysteries lie in this vast, beautiful space.. It’s nothing to fear, but something to embrace. It’s the very essence of what makes this life so precious and exciting 🤍 (at Oregon) https://www.instagram.com/p/CcVqzhLJ7Tc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=