#may not be a number 1 hit

[mjj-nostalgia]

"IT'S SLANDAH!!! YOU SAY IT'S NOT A SWARD, BUT WITH YOUR PEHN YOU TORTURE MEHN, YOU CRUCIFY THA LAWD"

Go listen to Tabloid Junkie right now if you haven't in a long time like myself

[goatsandgangsters]

georges seurat found dead in park, as merrily we roll along forcibly claims its new spot on my top 3 sondheim musicals

[helianskies]

ugly maths.

i hate maths, right. i don't usually like numbers, and if i do like numbers it's gotta be an 8 or a 48 and nothing else.

thing is, i've recently caught myself doing maths again. ugly maths. the kind of maths that, really, i've been trying to avoid as much as possible because, well, it's ugly!

you... wanna see?

okay, fine... but don't say i didn't warn you!

ugly, see? look at all those numbers! not a 48 in sight!

huh? what's that? you don't see what i'm on about? oh... oh! hang on, lemme just—

better? yes? no? no? okay, what if i—

mmh, yes. ugly numbers. see it now? can you see why they're ugly?

here, i can make it worse.

these numbers are ugly. the maths they make me do is ugly.

now i'll level with you: the worst ones by far are the yellow numbers. the maths they make me do it the ugliest.

why ugly?

because it makes me ugly.

those numbers turn me into not only a suddenly number-obsessed fool, but a fool who also cannot understand these numbers and what they mean and why i feel like they reflect on me and my ability.

87, 75.

the thoughts are as follows:

• the orange numbers are big, so why are you being ugly about the yellow ones? you should be happy with what you have. so many nice big numbers! not everyone receives that.

• is it that there are two different audiences for these two different fics? perhaps. they are quite different works, with different appeals, and different themes. maybe you are reading too much into it.

• why are you obsessing over numbers anyway? you don't like maths! you left maths behind when you were 16, put it down!

okay, okay, fine! i'll put the maths down. right here, in fact!:

that 87 was an 83 at the start of the year. the 6161 it is attached to was a 5453.

4, 708.

ugly maths.

the 75 is a nice number. in fact, compared to 87, it is beautiful, radiant, enchanting. at the start of the year, 75 was 48. wow. now that is one sexy number!

27.

mmmm.

6161, 1061.

5100.

87, 75.

12.

mmmm.

you know, my most favourite comment left recently on a fic of mine was 2 characters long: :(

it made me :)

well, actually, it made me >:) because it was left in response, presumably, to one of the key scenes in a new chapter which left the exact impression on someone that i hoped it would.

they must be the only one who reacted like that, though.

1.

have i mentioned that that 87 and 75 include author responses?

i won't try to do more maths, there. it might not end well for me. the maths is making me tired enough as it is, and i have an early start tomorrow.

oh! but, that being said, i have another set of ugly numbers to show you, so keep 87 and 75 in mind.

ready?

838, 245.

(want a hint? the green numbers!)

838, 87. 245, 75.

9.6, 3.3.

ugly maths. it's ugly again, see? i don't like it. i'm seeing numbers within numbers within numbers, and i can't seem to stop!

the numbers make me ask new questions:

• why is it not good enough?

• people seem to engage more with one fic over the other, so shouldn't you prioritise?

• is all this maths this really good for you?

no, it isn't.

i want to avoid ugly maths. ugly maths makes me want to tear my hair out. it makes me want to start from scratch. it makes me want to grab someone and scream. it makes me want to cry and press a button that has tempted me many times before when the numbers become too ugly to bear.

ugly maths turn me into an ugly person.

ugly maths make me obsessive, paranoid, anxious, regretful, vindictive, spiteful, alone.

i hate maths. i hate numbers, just like, it feels, the numbers hate me.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

what is happening

[kitsunabi]

This 0.5% taunts me....

[avoidingdestiny]

Got past my sticking point!!! Been stuck at 121–123 for weeks now but I finally hit 124.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Bad Lip Reading - Seagulls! (Stop It Now) 2016

Bad Lip Reading is a YouTube channel created and run by an anonymous producer from Texas who intentionally lip-reads video clips poorly for comedic effect. Some of the channel's original songs are available on Spotify and Apple Music.

In December 2015, Bad Lip Reading simultaneously released three new videos, one for each of the three films in the original Star Wars trilogy. These videos used guest voices for the first time, featuring Jack Black as Darth Vader, Maya Rudolph as Princess Leia, and Bill Hader in multiple roles. The Empire Strikes Back BLR video featured a scene of Yoda singing to Luke Skywalker about the dangers posed by vicious seagulls if one dares to go to the beach. BLR later expanded this scene into a full-length stand-alone song called "Seagulls! (Stop It Now)", which was released in November 2016, and eventually hitting #1 on the Billboard Comedy Digital Tracks chart.

Mark Hamill, who played Luke Skywalker in the Star Wars films, publicly praised "Seagulls!" (and Bad Lip Reading in general) while speaking at Star Wars Celebration in 2017: "I love them, and I showed Carrie [Fisher] the Yoda one… we were dying. She loved it. I retweeted it… and [BLR] contacted me and said ‘Do you want to do Bad Lip Reading?’ And I said, ‘I'd love to…’”. Hamill and Bad Lip Reading collaborated on Bad Lip Reading's version of The Force Awakens, with Hamill providing the voice of Han Solo. The Star Wars Trilogy Bad Lip Reading videos led to a second musical number, "Bushes of Love", which hit #2 on the Billboard Comedy Digital Tracks chart.

May the 4th be with 71,6% of you!

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say “clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[agenderfrenchfry]

I’m not going to do one of those “REBLOG OR YOU’RE A HORRIBLE PERSON!!!!!!1!” posts, but please, if you have the time, read about Robert Roberson.

Neurodivergent people, we especially need to pay attention to this. This is a man who was sent to death row because he appeared too “stoic”. He was formally diagnosed with autism after. I’m sure you already know that this is only one part of a larger pattern of flaws. Fellow victims of the US’ crap legal system, we need to say something. I don’t care if you think it won’t work, we still have to give them hell. They may have power, but they need to know damn well we won’t sit by and let people die.

Greg Abbott’s number (yes, of course it’s Texas) is 361-264-9653. Give him a call if you have the time. If calls freak you out, text. If you don’t want to do that, sign the petition. You have the chance to change history right now.

Most importantly, take care of yourself. All this tragedy drains the soul, especially when it hits close to home. After you’re done with this post, drink some water and watch something nice or, better yet, step away from the screen for a bit. You deserve it and more.

[bubblegumgothglados]

This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.

In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.

This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.

Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.

Enjoy

Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.

Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.

Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.

Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.

Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.

Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.

Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.

Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.

Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.

Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.

Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.

Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.

Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.

Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.

Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.

Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.

Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.

Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.

Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.

Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.

Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.

Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!

Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.

[idolomantises]

Wasn't sure when it would be the best time to discuss this, but since the ending is drawing near... yes, Bugtopia is ending.

It was a decision I really wrestled with myself for months over it, before finally concluding that letting it end after 40 episodes was the better option. Just to be clear, webtoons did not force me to end the series. They even offered to give me a pay raise to continue the series. It was my decision due to a multitude of personal factors. I'll just repeat what I said on my patreon:

I just want to say, first of all, thank you all so much for patiently waiting for my series to release and for supporting my work as I began developing the series. Bugtopia was a series I genuinely loved and adored and it made me feel so incredibly happy that people were turning their heads towards a series about weird bugs and their natural lives.

However, as you can probably guess, it pains me to say that I am concluding the series after season 1. I had 4 seasons planned with new characters to introduce, but unfortunately, I cannot see myself continuing to work with Webtoons and I want to pursue other projects.

This decision was due to a compiling number of issues with the company, the final straw was when they had a mass layoff, fired my editor that I've been working with for two years, and did not inform me for a week, leaving me in the dark until they randomly assigned me with someone else. My new editor is great and I'm glad I'm working with someone so patient and understanding, but this decision to fire my previous editor, the one who got me the job to begin with, without prior warning made me feel disrespected and disregarded, and it killed all motivation I had for properly completing the series.

I also felt incredibly overworked, I was spending vacation days working on comics and avoiding time with family just so I could get something done for webtoons once I come home. I feel like so much time was being wasted away for a company that paid me so little that I had to work twice as hard building up funds on my patreon. Bugtopia just ate up so much of my time. The pay also didn't make up for it. It's commonly assumed that webtoons authors make about $800 for the episodes they do, but that's not true. In fact, you can make far less depending on the amount of panels expected for your contract. It doesn't help that the artwork i did for banners and promotions were all things I had to draw and didn't get paid for, and the work I gave was either tampered with or scrapped, making me feel like I spent more hours of my day wasting time. There were also comics I had to censor and scrap, likely due to another series being in hot water for its racially insensitive content. But it was just extra work I wasn't being paid for. It also frustrated me because I was seeing other series with far more explicit content getting away with a slap on the wrist (turns out you can't say "fuck" anymore without it being hit with a mature rating, disappointing!)

In all honesty, it just felt like webtoons needed me more than I needed them. I was making more money from patreon in a week than I was making from webtoons in a month.

Personally, while I don't really regret my time with Webtoons and met some great people along the way, I honestly don't think any artist should work with them. You will be severely overworked and underpaid, and will barely be featured in ads unless your series becomes an instant hit immediately. It doesn't really matter how successful you are, you're just a product to Webtoons, put yourself above the corporation.

I have tried my best to provide you all with a satisfying conclusion to Bugtopia, even if some episodes may feel rushed or incomplete, but I completely understand if the conclusion isn't to your liking and I do apologize, but I could not continue working on this series if this was the mistreatment I was going to continuously get. I owe a massive thank you to my editor and assistants for helping me complete the series, I truly don't think I could have ever finished it without them.

Though I am done with Bugtopia, that does not mean I want to stop projects entirely, so please don't feel bad for me. I have a lot of upcoming projects and ideas in the works, and I'm still continuing the Monsters and Girls series.

Will Bugtopia ever return... possibly. I retain complete ownership of the series after a few years, and I wouldn't mind continuing the canvas series (or possibly starting over). Unfortunately I don't think I can continue the Webtoon Original as it belongs to webtoons now, but never say never I suppose!

[friendlyneighborhoodshark]

"How to Life" Masterlist

Cleaning and Tidying

Make your bed in the morning. It takes seconds, and it's worth it.

Reset to zero each morning.

Use the UFYH 20/10 system for clearing your shit.

Have a 'drop-zone' box where you dump anything and everything. At the beginning/end of the day, clear it out and put that shit away.

Automate your chores. Have a cleaning schedule and assign 15mins daily to do whatever cleaning tasks are set for that day. Set a timer and do it once the timer is up, finish the task you're on and leave it for the day.

Fold your clothes straight out of the tumble dryer (if you use one), whilst they're still warm. This minimises creases and eliminates the need for ironing.

Clean your footwear regularly and you'll feel like a champ.

Organisation and Productivity

Learn from Eisenhower's Importance/Urgency matrix.

Try out the two-minute rule and the Pomodoro technique.

Use. A. Planner. (Or Google Calendar, if that's more your thing.)

Try bullet journalling.

Keep a notebook/journal/commonplace book to dump your brain contents in on the regular.

Set morning alarms at two-minute intervals rather than five, and stick your alarm on the other side of the room. It's brutal, but it works.

Set three main goals each day, with one of them being your #1 priority. Don't overload your to-do list or you'll hit overload paralysis and procrastinate.

If you're in a slump, however, don't be afraid to put things like "shower" on your to do list - that may be a big enough goal in itself, and that's okay.

Have a physical inbox - a tray, a folder, whatever. If you get a piece of paper, stick it in there and sort through it at the end of the week.

Consider utilising the GTD System, or a variation of it.

Try timeboxing.

Have a morning routine, and guard that quiet time ferociously.

Have a folder for all your important documents and letters, organised by topic (e.g. medical, bank, university, work, identification). At the front of this folder, have a sheet of paper with all the key information written on it, such as your GP's details, your passport details, driving licence details, bank account number, insurance number(s), and so on.

Schedule working time and down time alike, in the balance that works for you.

Money

Have. A. God. Damn. Budget.

Use a money tracker like toshl, mint, or splitwise. Enter all expenses asap! (You will forget, otherwise.)

Have a 'money date' each week, where you sort through your finances from the past seven days and then add it to a spreadsheet. This will help you identify your spending patterns and whether your budget is actually working or not.

Pack your own frickin' lunch like a grown-up and stop buying so many takeaway coffees. Keep snacks in your bag.

Food and Cooking

Know how to cook the basics: a starch, a protein, a vegetable, and a sauce.

Simple, one-pot meals ("a grain, a green, and a bean") are a godsend.

Batch cook and freeze. Make your own 'microwave meals'.

Buy dried goods to save money - rice and beans are a pittance.

Consider Meatless Mondays; it's healthier, cheaper, and more environmentally friendly.

Learn which fruits and vegetables are cheapest at your store, and build a standard weekly menu around those. (Also remember that frozen vegetables are cheap and healthy.)

Learn seasoning combinations. Different seasoning, even with the exact same ingredients, can make a dish seem completely new.

Misc

Have a stock email-writing format.

Want to start running, but find it boring? Try Zombies, Run!.

Keep a goddamn first aid kit and learn how to use it.

Update your CV regularly.

Keep a selection of stamps and standard envelopes for unexpected posting needs. (It happens more regularly than you would think!)

[transvamp]

it is honestly kind of funny how i didn't realize how much of my ocd was religious flavored until long after i started developing my story, as if its not religious ocd fantasy simulator.

[colossrat]

marvel likes storms :) Batman grimaced when he received an informational pin on his communicator that a magic user had entered his city at high speed, but only sighed when he noticed that it was a member of the league. one that, despite being friendly, shouldn't be there. He threw himself back and forth between the rooftops until he reached the superhero's location. He was sitting on the edge of a considerably tall building that gave a good view of the city, but the Big Red Cheese was looking up intently to the sky, his legs swinging excitedly.

Batman: Marvel, what are you doing here in Gotham?!

Marvel: Ah, Mr. Batman! Sorry, I know you don't like visitors, but I promise I'm not here to bother you. I'm not even here on business. I'm here because of the storm that's coming!

Batman: Explain.

Marvel: Well? I just like storms. You know, flying through the heavy clouds, feeling the rain, the smell of ozone and the static. It's natural that I love this environment, you know? How when humans feel comfortable in the fetal position? Because they remember their mother's womb, or something like that. Batman saved this information to analyze later, especially the "when humans..." part which may be indicating that the captain was born from a storm.

Batman: Hmn. Don't cause trouble, and if trouble comes to you, call me first.

Marvel: ok mister! will do. And the captain salutes with a big smile. Not even Batman can deny his friendly charm, especially when he comes up with strangely interesting facts like this Now, every time Gotham is hit by a nasty storm, everyone will be ready and waiting for Marvel to be there, chasing thunder, laughing as he flies through the sky, diving head first into the drops of water and static only to fly back up again later. Every now and then he accidentally gets in the way of some evil plan (he absorbed all the rays that the villains wanted to channel to energize a weapon or bring someone back to life, perhaps) and batman just kinda dont want to comment about it Or theres Cap absorbing the most dangerous thunder, the number of accidents throughout the city greatly decreased. like trees catching fire, poles falling, generators breaking down and so on. There are several posts on the internet, even a reddit just with people saying that they saw the big red cheese playing in the storm out there, being hit by thunder on purpose and stuff Eventually he starts to feel comfortable enough in the bats city to help the citizens a little. just a little so as not to irritate his boss. He cuts holes in the clouds to create a gap of light to help a lady look for the keys she dropped on the ground. he shares some electricity for the hospital generators in case they have a problem during the storm. A large branch fell on the street and is blocking traffic? in a red blur, the branch will have been dumped in a safe environment.

Batman actually begins to enjoy the small gestures around the city, even more so because Marvel doesn't try to change her his way, just lend a hand, appreciating what she has to offer, even if that is dark and foggy skies with aggressive rays of buzzing electricity. Bruce is very happy to have someone else who likes Gotham's dark skies.

part 1 of strange facts about the captain that fill the league with "he's silly, I like him" maybe

[thatsdemko]

unknown - m.verstappen

masterlist | pairing: max verstappen x Hamilton!fem!reader. summary: when an unknown number comes across his phone, max can’t help but discover who’s sent him the image he can’t erase from his mind. warnings: 18+ + fingering (f receiving) + mentions of nudity + fluff (at the end). a/n: I want to give a huge shoutout to @monzabee for always being my inspiration to finish my smut, but also for convincing me to read twisted games (this ones inspired by that xx)

unknown

attachment: 1 image

the pinging sound distracts him from the current game on his television. pausing for a quick second, max glances at the unknown number and slides the message open as curiosity struck him.

unknown

can you see my nipples through this?

Max’s phone nearly drops into his lap at the second message. he barely got the chance to even open the image, the second message was far too appalling and his hands got too slippery from the precipitation building around him.

“max! come on!” the chatter from his headset snaps his attention from the black phone screen in his lap. red slips across his cheeks as he apologizes quickly for the distraction, and continues on like nothing happened.

though he couldn’t lie, the curiosity of the image was certainly looming around him. what was the person wearing? could he see said nipples? he couldn’t help but try to sneak peaks at his phone whenever he got the chance before the stream ended.

finally free from his friends, max slides open his phone and his breath sucks inward. you could definitely see your nipples through the sheer linen tight white top. in fact, if it weren’t for your underwear, you could see the very outline of your vagina.

fuck. max was unsure to text back. if he did, what would he even say? there was no clear indication on who it was sending the message. he didn’t recognize the number, and on top of that there was no face. the image was purely just the outfit.

max verstappen

a bra would be appropriate.

your heart fell about five stories down, and right into the pit of your gut. shit, you didn’t send the message to your friends. instead, you mistook the ID you tapped on for one of them, and it turned out to very clearly be your brothers rival: max verstappen.

unknown

don’t mention this to Lewis.

max verstappen

secret is safe with me.

while this made perfectly good blackmail, max had nothing against you. you were completely innocent and most likely too stupid to notice you tapped his phone number instead. he’d never utter a word to Lewis, and the photo would die with max whenever the time may be.

max verstappen

where are you headed looking like that?

y/n Hamilton

your moms house.

max stifled out a chuckle unable to believe that you were born by the same parents as Lewis. when it came to humor, Lewis used it very minimal, but from the select times max had spoken to you, you were the complete opposite. meditation was joke, veganism was impossible to follow, and driving at fast speeds was too boring. y/n hamilton was every opposite of her brother.

max verstappen

I think my house is a better place for that

your heart somehow jumped back into its place, attempting to thump its way out of its cavity. max could easily be joking, he could easily be serious, but either way you shouldn’t go. max was probably not interested in women like you, and sure the photo might’ve tipped the scales in your favor, but you weren’t really into vanilla sex like he could offer.

y/n Hamilton

you wish I was headed to your place like this.

max verstappen

I do.

fuck. you close your eyes, letting your fingers type the message and hit send before you can even have a single regret. max might be your opposite in the bedroom, but you can’t help but wonder what he’s got up his sleeve.

y/n Hamilton

I’m free right now.

—

twenty minutes later his soft lips are leaving trails down your neck, his fingers work the buttons of the top that sickened his soul into this. he was careful not rip the material, but he was so the opposite of careful when his lips wrapped around your nipple.

his tongue and teeth graze the sensitive skin while you melt against his mattress into a puddle.

you were so wrong about him. oh so so, wrong.

he’d practically ripped that white shirt to shreds the second you entered his place. his tongue was a dominate force, shoved down your throat, his lips were passionate and full of eager. vanilla sex was so not max. you could write pages about him, no fantasy or book explored the way max did.

his fingers. oh gosh, they could write stories about how delicate, and soft they were. how they expanded your folds and had you clenching around nothing. they worked wonders— magic perhaps, pumping at such a fast speed you didn’t have time to react feeling him floor you until every drop of you was around him.

“these,” his tongue swipes across your breast, lips wrapping around the tip of your nipple, sucking you like a baby its thumb. it was relaxing, gut twisting, and chilling. he left you panting, begging, and still he wasn’t finished. no ounce of him showed signs of stopping.

when finally he was done toying, done with whatever ‘warmup’ he claimed this to be, his large cock filled you, warmth overtook with pleasure when you felt his hips grind yours. the rhythm was nothing like his fingers, nothing like how his tongue moved on your skin, it was slow. he was slow, like he were to savor every moment of this.

you clench, you squeal, beg, whatever could come from you as noise. nothing was coherent, and max liked that. in fact, it quickened his pace with a smirk as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and moan his name.

“you’re taking it well.” his voice is raspy, husk and faint. a moan rippled through your body at the sound of him, you could feel butterflies unleash in the warmth of your stomach as you cry out and come on his cock.

“you’re different than I expected you to be.” you say watching him roll to the pillow beside you, his blue eyes fixed on yours, they still have that hunger in them that turns you on.

“when you wear a top like that,” his breath sucks inward, a simple shake of his head at the newest dirty ideas floating in his mind, “I can’t control myself.”

a breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you curl your body into his, perfectly molding together, “I guess I’m glad I ditched the girls for you.”

a smile stretches across his lips that he carefully plants on your forehead, “thanks for the text, I hope to receive more in the future.”

“you earned yourself a spot on speed dial.”