#so i will not be forcing myself to write

[soaps-mohawk]

Heyyyy ik ur are tired ,just wanted to ask if you will post a chapter this week ,get well soon

Honey, I am not "tired", I am sick.

Congestion, sinus pain, headache, fatigue, sure my sore throat went away last night but now I have a cough. I can't sleep because I don't want to use my cpap while sick, so I wake every hour either from not breathing or because I'm choking on sinus drainage. (And yes, I sleep at an angle and it still doesn't help any.)

I wrote 600 words of chapter 16 on Saturday when I was getting sick, and I have not touched it since then, nor have I even thought about touching it because I am now fully sick.

I gave y'all two chapters last week. Two. You have no idea how badly I was stressing about Chapter 15 and how close I was to giving up writing and I still got the chapter up for everyone on Sunday WHILE I HAD A FEVER.

Regardless of the extra bonus chapter everyone got, I still would say it's not likely you'll get a chapter this week because I AM SICK. I want to rest and sleep and try to get better because I have things in my real life that I need to do too that I haven't been able to because I've been sick. I'm not even thinking about this fic and updating it right now.

I am begging y'all to remember I am a real person with a real life behind this blog. I get busy, I get tired, I get sick. I do this as a hobby. I post here on tumblr for free. I pump out 7k word chapters every week, and in the case of last week, multiple times a week. It's hard. It takes a lot of work and dedication just to do this alone while I feel healthy and normal, much less everything else I do during the week.

On top of that, Friday is my birthday and I'd like to take that day to do what I want to do and celebrate the crisis of getting yet another year older.

So no, chances are, there's probably not going to be a chapter out this week. I want to rest and recover and even if I did try to pump out 7k words in the next two days, I'm not going to be happy with it. I'm not going to like it. It's not going to be up to par with the standard I've set with the rest of the chapters quality-wise and I'm going to be tearing myself up because I'll have felt like I cheated y'all trying to write while sick just for the sake of getting a chapter out this week.

Now that I've got myself all worked up, I'm going to go lay down and rest and maybe have some soup because I'm hungry and for the first time in days, it does not hurt to eat. So take one of the chapters from last week and consider that the update for this week.

[iindigoeyed]

saw this dress and purse and i KNEW i had to draw this, it's so her!!

[frownyalfred]

you know what one of my favorite tropes is? forced identity reveal. and not just scenes where the villain will throw some poor civilian off a building if the Justice League doesn't stand up. I mean the kind where they're forced, through magic or powers or some sort of force, to reveal themselves.

Kryptonians are immediately identified in the crowd with kryptonite. Every Lantern hisses as their rings start to flare at the same time, glowing wildly on their hands. Glamours are forcibly dropped. Like that.

[breadandblankets]

there's a lot of Jason as a fanfic writer headcanons (which I love) but we're sleeping on the bat that is canonically not just a huge nerd but also a great writer: duke

where's he's at now he doesn't do hobbies he barely does humaning, he's The Signal practically full time, all his fics are on permanent hiatus

theres a better future where he learns to take breaks and has a note on his mega fic like "life ya know?" like No duke we Don't know

[smeddiemunson]

(part 1 here) (part 2 here)

Gareth, in a feat of truly impressive self-restraint, lasted all the way through their band practise before asking.

The four of them packed into Eddie’s van. Gareth had ultimate dibs on the front seat since he’d known Eddie the longest, despite being in different grades. 

“So,” he said, breaking the expectant silence. “Steve Harrington?” 

Eddie groaned and let his head thunk against the steering wheel, not even flinching when the horn sounded. “Please don’t.” 

“Nah, man. It’s all good,” Jeff soothed as he leaned through the gap between the front seats. “We’ve not got a problem with it, but Harrington? Really? Not exactly your type.” 

Eddie laughed humourlessly. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Gareth turned in his seat to share a loaded look with the two sat in the back as Eddie started the van. They were planning to find out the all of it.

“And you guys just don’t have a problem with it?” Eddie asked once they were well on the road to Loch Nora. “I know you don’t exactly have the best memories of him from school.”

Eddie tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythm that didn’t even match the tape that was playing quietly. He was nervous and Eddie hated being anything other than completely sure of himself. 

“You’re right, we don’t have the best memories of him, but the guy saved your life, Eddie,” Gareth reminded him gently. 

It was the worst phone call he’d ever received in his life. He couldn’t imagine getting another one like it. Wayne on the other end, breathing shakily as he told Gareth that Eddie was in the hospital, that he wasn’t waking up but that he was going to be okay and that he thought Eddie would really like it if his best friends, his brothers, were there when he woke up. 

It had been hard seeing Eddie like that, small, frail and paler than usual, no rings or battle vest, no Eddie. Steve and Wayne had been sat at his bedside, both just staring into the middle distance, when they had filtered into the room. Gareth remembered so vividly the sinking feeling that he felt at the quiet. Eddie hated the quiet, he was never quiet. 

And maybe it had been the wrong thing to do, to interrupt Steve and Wayne in such a way, but Gareth knew Eddie. Wayne, for all he tried, never really understood his nephew and Steve was clearly a new development.

So he started talking. He talked about school, about the assignment he was working on, and he talked about the girl that worked behind the counter of Camelot, and he talked about his mom chewing him out for almost crashing her car. Jeff and Grant, who knew exactly what he was doing, picked up the thread when it sounded like he was running out of steam. 

He just couldn’t stand to let Eddie exist like that.

Gareth owed him that much. Gareth owed him everything.

Eddie who had stood on lunch tables and made himself the centre of attention, the target, when Gareth couldn’t fight off the tears after getting an F on his history midterm. Eddie who got them their first paying gig as Corroded Coffin and pushed them all to take their music seriously. 

He joked about them being his sheep, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. 

“Yeah, man,” Grant doubled down. “We can’t hate him anymore. Without him you wouldn’t be here. And you trust him?” 

“With my life,” Eddie confirmed with conviction. 

“Then that’s good enough for us. It’s all water under the bridge,” Jeff concluded. “Now turn that fucking music up, I don’t want to cry in the back of your shitty van, Ed.”

Eddie cracked the music up with a blubbery laugh and all four of them yelled along with Ozzy for the rest of the drive.

The door to the Harrington house was opened before they even got out of the car. Steve stood there, excitement buzzing around him.

"Ed," Gareth stopped him with a hand on his arm before Eddie could scamper off. "Do they know about you?"

Eddie shook his head. "Only Buckley."

Gareth nodded once and jumped out of the van. He was still too short to climb out normally, and at seventeen, he didn't have much hope for a late growth spurt to help him out with it.

“You been waiting for us all this time, Stevie?” Eddie teased as he slammed his door shut.

Steve laughed, stepping out the door with bare feet on the porch so he could accept Eddie’s hug. He didn’t have a shirt on, pink scars on full display, and short yellow swim shorts on. It was nothing short of a miracle that Eddie still had the brain cells to flirt.

“We could hear you guys coming all the way up the street.” He explained as Eddie let go of him. “Ozzy?”

“Oh for fuck sake,” Jeff muttered from his place at Gareth’s shoulder. “How is Ed not seeing this?”

“He had to do senior year three times, dude.” Grant fired back from Gareth’s other side, but still not loud enough for Eddie or Steve to hear. “Steve could plant one on him right now and he’d still find a way to make it a just friends thing.”

Steve, having finally managed to pull his focus away from Eddie long enough to see his other guests, waved them over. “Come on in guys.”

Gareth made sure to share with Steve what he hoped past for a friendly, macho and athletic half handshake as he passed him to go through the door.

“Thanks again for having us. You really didn’t have to invite us,” Grant said, using the good manners his father taught him.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “No way, man. I’ve been trying to get Teddy to bring you guys over for ages. He talks about you all the time.”

“You talk about us, Ed?” Gareth asked with a shit eating grin. 

Eddie pushed at his shoulder, sending Gareth stumbling towards the open french doors. “Yeah and I’ll talk about Tammy Thompson if you don’t shut up.” 

Jeff and Gareth snickered together. They knew all about Gareth’s benadryl induced dream about Tammy Thompson because when he told them he was still half high on the same benadryl.

Gareth huffed but didn’t say anything. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would follow through with his threat if pushed. 

Out in the garden, it seemed that the party was already in full swing. There were scattered cans, Robin and Nancy were giggling together at something, and s portable stereo playing The Cure. 

Steve smiled shyly. “We got started without you.” 

His voice seemed to draw the attention of the other four people. They all stopped in the middle of their conversations. 

“Whoa, dude,” The guy with long hair that Gareth didn’t recognise said to break the silence. “Your cult looks super culty.” 

Gareth froze. Jeff and Grant did too. 

But Eddie, determined to always surprise them, just laughed. “Not a cult, my man.” He kicked his shoes off by the door (surprising how little care he paid them since he sulked for a week straight when Jeff accidentally scuffed them) and started making his way over to the sun loungers. “This the legendary Corroded Coffin. Gareth, Jeff and Grant.” 

He pointed them out each in turn then shucked off his shirt and started working the intricate handcuff clasp of his belt. 

Gareth pretended he didn’t hear the strangled noise that came from Steve’s throat. 

“And guys, this is Argyle. You know everyone else.” 

Gareth waved politely but awkwardly and it was returned by a chorus of ‘hello’s.

Once Eddie had divested himself of his jeans, the black swim shorts he had forced underneath them sitting starkly against his pale skin, he dipped back in his jeans pocket to pull out two perfectly rolled joints.

“I brought party favours!” He waved them in front of Argyle’s face how he would sometimes play with the stray cats that skulked around Forest Hills.

Grant groaned. “Eddie, you know I can’t afford weed right now.” 

Eddie scoffed at him. “These’s ones are on the house, Ad-Grant-age. This is a party after all.” 

Steve, somehow having forced himself out of the trace that Eddie’s torso had put him in, was the first to start moving. “You guys can change inside if you want. There’s bedrooms upstairs or the bathroom just past the kitchen. I’ll get some more drinks. Can we switch this tape?” 

The rambling did nothing to hide the redness of his cheeks. If anything it just brought more attention to them. 

“Your tapes are shit, Steveo,” Robin informed him happily. “But this one is also awful, so yes I will change it just for you.” She ignored Jonathan’s annoyed hey and beckoned Steve to follow her. 

Eddie settled on the sun lounger next to Argyle, already having pulled a lighter from somewhere. 

Gareth took that as his cue to drag Jeff and Grant inside to change. 

Jeff, as soon as they were out of hearing range, asked, “When has Eddie ever given us free weed?” 

Gareth shook his head. “I’ve known about this crush for less than a week and I’m already tired of it. We have to do something to get them together.” 

Grant narrowed his eyes. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

He pushed them both towards the bathroom. “Get changed, our work starts today.”

(part 4)

[uncanny-tranny]

Good news! You aren't required to make your hobbies and passions "marketable." In fact, your crafts, hobbies, and passions don't even need to be public if you so choose. You don't have to spend all of your energy becoming perfect if you aren't enjoying the process. You are not a product, you are a person, a creative, and your work also does not need to be a product.

[bibliosims]

michaela addison

[heavenbarnes]

Lucky you!

"The Bear" characters x reader

Contains: The Lucky star of Chicagoland. Tales of loving working in a one-time sandwich shop, come gourmet restaurant.

(Some parts may contain explicit references, this blog is 18+)

(Each part will be standalone and focus on a different character. Does not need to be read all together to make sense, you can pick and choose- however, it will be noted which parts pair well together.)

The series [COMING SOON]: You should be so Lucky - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x reader Just Lucky, I guess? - Sydney "Syd" Adamu x reader Feeling Lucky? - Marcus Brooks x reader Third time Lucky - Richie Jerimovich x reader I'd rather be Lucky than good - Michael "Mikey" Berzatto x reader

(As each part is standalone, the individual parts will not receive sequels.)

[junipers-insects]

Watching you

[softpine]

can you please, please relate? i’m not holding up

[transcript]

[coff33andb00ks]

OSCAR + 30!!!💘💘

30: brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second <this got slightly smutty and i'm not sorry>

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

It was supposed to be easy. PDA wasn't your thing anyway. But the closer you grew to Oscar the harder it was to not reach for him. Because when it was just the two of you, alone, you had free rein over his body. And you loved his body, could easily spend hours tracing the curves and dips of each muscle. You knew every freckle, every line. You'd learned how to touch him when he was stressed, when he was hyper, and when he was sleepy. You'd learned where and how to stroke to have him gasping your name in that deep, needy way that made your head spin.

Just as much as you loved his body, you loved his hands on yours. They could comfort, they could soothe. They could silence the constant noise in your head. They sparked flames inside you that you'd never imagined. They cradled, they caressed, they gripped, they sometimes bruised, they worshipped. It wasn't surprising to you that you got turned on just looking at his hands sometimes.

And oh, you loved his fingers. Whether they were brushing away tears or interlocked with yours while he made love to you, they were your favorite part of him. You adored the calluses, the length, the girth, even the tiny freckle most people probably weren't aware was on his thumb. They eased your soul, they combed through your hair on lazy afternoons. They teased and enticed, made you scream. They curled around yours so perfectly, as though your hands had been designed by gods to fit together, and though you may shift and move throughout the night his fingers would still be holding yours in the morning.

Right now, you want those hands. Those fingers. You don't care how, exactly, you just crave them. You need the quiet solace in the circus that was media day that only your boyfriend's hands and fingers could provide.

We'll keep it quiet, yeah? Nobody's business but ours.

You and your stupid fucking ideas. What had you been thinking, telling him you wanted your relationship to be a secret? You must have been delirious when you'd said that. Worst of all, what kind of selfish bastard would agree?

You stew in your misery, watching him use his hands to talk while he speaks with the media. You fold your arms over your chest, chewing on your lip while he juggles tennis balls with ease. He sees you watching and gives you his stupid, cheesiest grin and you almost, almost, flip him off and try to focus on your actual job, because if you don't Charles will say something he shouldn't and you don't have the energy to deal with his lack of public relation skills.

The day moves on, time seeming to go slower for some godforsaken reason, and now there's fan interactions to watch. Oscar clutching a marker should be a crime, honestly. Then there's the insanity that is getting back to the team hubs for debriefs, and he's right ahead of you, yapping away with Lando, his hands swinging with each step.

You walk a little faster, and from behind you someone calls out to Oscar. He stops and turns and you're pushed towards him by someone that you hope is blessed beyond measure for eternity.

Three seconds. Three seconds of utter peace as you're brushing against him. His eyes meet yours and you can see the love shining in them, his hand grazing yours. The warmth only he can supply is a protective bubble, his fingers twining with yours for barely a second.

The bubble is burst and you apologize to him while someone apologizes to you, and your fingers tingle as your swept away.

But at least now you're no longer miserable.

[hood-ex]

One thing I do like about reading Talon!Dick fics is seeing which elements people reuse. Whether Dick can talk or if he just makes animal noises. Does he wear claws or doesn't he. Does he wear eccentric clothes or not. Does he wear makeup or not. Does he make his own choices or does he only follow orders. Is he particularly protective over a member(s) of the family or does he keep his distance. Does he respond to his given name or to Talon. Is he particularly sensitive to the cold or not. Does he use his knives or does he take on the escrima sticks. Is he scared of the Court or isn't he. Does he befriend the Titans or does he not branch out socially. Does he have glowing gold eyes or are his eyes normal.

Much to consider when writing Talon!Dick.

[limbel]

or, a collection of non-linear snippets from Dean's past.

Rating: M Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 3770

》 READ HERE

[fistfightinganxietyandlosing]

Do you ever think about the fact that Polites probably wouldn't even hate Odysseus for everything he did after his death, for the man he's become. He'd just be sad

[callsthefaithful]

b4 death B) - angel w a little hat below cut <3

tried to stick to their death dates a bit but. idk i only googled for like 5 mins. also i wanted those old news print colours 😌

[johnslittlespoon]

Buck + Bucky Timeline Info

For fic writers or just curious readers!

Referencing different archives and articles, I've done my best to compile John and Gale's Air Force timeline pre–England, because I feel like a lot of it gets muddied and sometimes we wanna write pre–MOTA canon events lol. Hope it comes in handy!

They meet (on or around) March 29, 1940 and become Flying Cadets at Randolph Field in Texas until August 30, 1940.

Still Flying Cadets, they move to Kelly Field in San Antonio, Texas from September 9, 1940 to November 14, 1940.

Both promoted to 2nd Lieutenant Air Corp Reserve on Nov 15, 1940. A bit unsure on the events before their next promotion, because Gale seems to have gone to Barksdale Army Air Field in LA in March of 1941 for advanced flying school, but haven't found anything on whether John went too; I'm assuming he did.

Both promoted to 1st Lieutenant, Air Corp on April 25, 1942. Not clear on whether this took place in LA or back in Texas or elsewhere.

Became instructors for the 29th Bombardment Group at McDill Air Force Field in Tampa, Florida on May 25, 1942.

Promoted to Captain and transferred to Gowan Field, Boise Idaho, but possibly at different times? All I can find is that by October they were both for sure there, but Gale was promoted to Captain on July 28, 1942 and transferred then, and John was promoted to Captain in August of 1942, but it doesn't specify when he transferred.

At Gowan Field in October of 1942, Gale was promoted to Commanding Officer for the 350th Bomb Squadron/100th Bomb Group, and John was promoted to Operations Officer for the 100th Bomb Group.

Transferred to Walla Walla Army Air Field in Washington in November of 1942.

Transferred to Wendover Army Air Field in Utah in December of 1942.

Both promoted to Majors in Sioux City, Iowa in January of 1943.

Transferred to Kearny, Nebraska (assuming to Kearney Air Force Base) in February of 1943. Cue P1 of MOTA!

In May of 1943, John traveled with an advance party to Podington, England to prepare the base for the 100th Bomb Group. On May 27 1943, Gale (with the 100th) left for Bangor, Maine. From there, he flew out across the Atlantic and arrived at Thorpe Abbotts on June 9 1943. And we know what happens from then on. :-)

If any of this is incorrect or you have extra information to add to the timeline, please let me know!! I wouldn't be surprised if I've missed things, but this is how their flight school/pre–England timeline went to the best of my knowledge. Hopefully this is helpful for some other writers too! I can throw together a timeline for their missions/events during MOTA as well if that's something anyone's interested in; it's easy enough to find mission dates in comparison to finding these pre–100th dates, but it might be nice to have them all in one place. x