#the lack of self awareness is astounding honestly

[lesbiansanemi]

People who comment dumb shit on my posts and then IMMEDIATELY block me so I can’t even read the full dumbass reply and only like the 8 words of the preview in my notifs are so fucking stupid and annoying like dawg what is the point either man up and actually open a dialogue or block and move on and keep your mouth shut. Stop being an annoying asshole lmao

[fuckhouse2theelectricboogaloo]

I mean I ship Jessie and Ash's mom too, but there's something so hilariously ironic about Shep reblogging character age discourse 😔

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Pls write for shoto 😩😩😩

I gotchuuu (I wasn’t sure if this is asking for Shoto smut in particular but all I’ve written for Tumblr so far is smut so that’s what you’re getting. This was so rushed but I hope you enjoy!)

Pairing: Pro!Shoto Todoroki x reader

Summary: It's hard not to be jealous when your fiancé is loved by so many. Thankfully, he seems more than willing to prove that he's yours.

Warnings: smut, praise, language, the tiniest smidge of angst, also not proof read

Word Count: 1.8k

Jealously wasn't a word you would particularly use when describing yourself.

On the contrary, you were quite a laid-back individual, especially in light of the difficulties present whilst dating such a well-known hero.

While many saw it as a life of glamour and luxury, there were many hardships that came along with it, such as the multitude of fans that showered the pros with adoration and praise.

It was even worse when that pro was someone as strikingly handsome as Shoto Todoroki.

Beauty was effortless for him. With eyes that could melt hearts and jawline capable of grating cheese, it was no surprise to anyone that he was given the title of "Most Attractive Pro-Hero" two years in a row.

So while jealous wasn't exactly a very fitting adjective to characterized you as an individual, hot was definitely one that described Shoto, meaning that there was no shortage of fans sending their affectionate devotion in the direction of your partner.

You tried your best to stay off social media and ignore the masses of comments his pictures or videos warranted. At first, you were actually good at it, but as your relationship progressed, you realized how difficult it really was to turn a blind eye.

Self-consciousness was a nasty emotion. When mixed with a simmering coil of envy, it made for quite the unfavorable combination.

There were times when the duo honestly got the better of you, playing a cruel game of contrasting superiority with your own career and physical attractiveness as its pawns. You would often find yourself wondering why Shoto was still with you; he outranked you in so many arenas, making it increasingly difficult to ignore the praise he got when it came from people that might've been so much better than you.

And every so often, it would get to the point where curiosity overcame your usually unbothered persona, leading you down a rabbit hole of digital exploration that was most definitely not beneficial to your mental health.

So when your fiancé came through the door, he was met with your form sprawled on the couch, scrolling tirelessly on your phone.

"I'm back." He walked over, bending down to place a kiss on the top of your head. However, the displeasure evident in your face caused him to blink back in surprise. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" You looked up, conjuring a hollow smile. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

Heterochromic eyes bore into yours as he leaned forward, forcing you back into the chair with the intensity of his stare.

"Uh... What are you doing?"

After standing up again, he gave your expression one more scan before folding his arms. "You're lying."

Although he had displayed a blatant lack of emotional awareness during high school, Shoto was peculiarly talented in reading you, a fact you found endearing and a bit problematic at the same time.

"I'm not lying." You sputtered, averting your line of sight from his.

"You're doing that face you make when you're upset."

"I don't make a face when I'm upset!"

Shoto's gaze trailed downward to the device clenched in your hand. With astounding speed, he effectively snatched it from you, allowing him to examine what was making his significant other so perturbed.

You made a lunge for the phone, but he was quicker, not to mention taller as well. He held it above his head for a few moments, far out of your reach as you grumbled in vexation. "Give it back!"

"One second, I'm not finished reading." He effortlessly pushed your feeble attempts back with an arm.

Taking a few more moments, he finally relinquished custody of the item. He offered you an inquisitive head tilt as he handed it back, almost like an animal who had yet to comprehend what command their owner had issued.

"You're mad about my PR Instagram page?" You watched as the gears in his head started to turn, train of thought trailing back to the actual part of the account you had been scrutinizing. "Are you jealous?"

Yes.

"What? No!" You waved his suspicions off, tossing the phone back on the couch before resuming your own position as well. "Like I said, I'm fine. Probably just tired from work today."

And while he might've once been insufficient in the realm of interpersonal talents, he was in no way, shape, or form dumb, especially not when it came to you.

Shoto knew perfectly well that his assumptions were correct and, in all honesty, found them to be quite endearing, despite your obvious vexation.

So when you caught wind of the tiny chuckle coming from his direction, your eyes shot up to meet his, narrowing. "Would you care to enlighten me as to what's so funny?"

For someone who wasn't the most skillful in expressing his emotions, the amusement was evident in his demeanor.

"Nothing." He offered you a gentle smile. "You're just cute."

You cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I said you're cute." He repeated, a little louder this time.

"No, I heard what you said. I just don't know why you think me being jealous is cute." Letting out an embarrassed huff, you fell back into the sofa.

"Because it is." He placed an arm and leg on the inside of the couch, situating his own body so then it hovered directly over yours. "I think it's cute how blind you can be, that you might actually believe I would want someone else when I have you."

One of his hands traveled under the cloth of your shirt, ghosting over the skin of your stomach.

You shivered under the chill of his touch as it trailed upward, finding your chest and beginning to gently knead the flesh. "Sho..."

He placed a kiss on your lips, catching the soft gasp he drew from rolling your hardened nipple beneath his fingers.

Envy and indignation soon began to fizzle away under the pleasure his contact provided. It flooded across your mind, sweeping the negative emotions in its wake to leave pure desire behind.

Continuing to pepper his mouth against your neck, he took notice of the way you unknowingly began to shift your hips upward in search of his.

The hand that had been palming your breast moved to tug your shorts downward. It snuck beneath your underwear, pulling it away as well so he could effectively apply pressure to your clit.

A quiet moan broke from your throat at the feeling and he hummed in satisfaction. "I think it's cute that you can make such pretty sounds and still think I might want to hear them coming from someone else."

Shoto's thumb kept a constant stroke on the sensitive nub as pushed a finger into you. Your body melted into the increasing euphoria, thighs clenching around his hand as he used the other to undo the string of his own sweatpants.

Soon, he added another finger, pumping in and out of your slit that quickly had you dangerously close to the brink of ecstasy.

You were cruelly yanked back from the blissful seconds later when he pulled away completely. The loss had you whining in dissatisfaction until you looked up.

As previously stated, you were a firm believer that Shoto Todoroki was one of the most attractive individuals that had graced your line of sight.

However, without clothes, he was breathtaking.

Scars were scattered up his arms and torso. There had been a time when he had tried covering them up in front of you, uneasy about the imperfections painted upon his skin.

You, however, had thought they were pretty and had told him as such. Each mark was a physical reminder of the lives he had guarded, a symbol of some child who got to see their parents one more time, or maybe a killer who was behind bars now because of his heroic duties.

Shoto had stopped trying to hide them after that.

And maybe, if you weren't so concerned about your own personal shortcomings, you might've been able to see that you were the reason why.

As he looked down at you from above, bi-color hair perfectly framed every angle of his face, accentuating every detail that you had grown to adore.

Irises, while differently shaded, burned bright with desire and adoration.

And it was all for you.

Positioning himself in front of you, he teased his tip at your clit before slowly entering. "And I think it's just so cute that you actually think I would ever want to fuck anyone else when I have you, waiting for me to come home and sink my cock into."

And he did, thrusting his hips into yours in a way that had every nerve in your body on fire. Your previous turmoil had washed away, overpowered by the sweet bliss that Shoto provided with every movement.

"So, yeah, you're pretty fucking adorable if I'm being honest."

The sound of his voice and the praise lacing his callous words had you melting, a moaning puddle overflowing with need. Hot tears were brimming at the corner of your eyes, a mixture of pleasure and the bitter feeling of an unmet release.

Already close, every thrust tightened the coiled simmering in your stomach. With his thumb still trained on your clit, you could feel the subtle warmth that he had sparked blaze to life in your abdomen.

One final kiss to your cervix pulled you over with a snap, your walls offering one final convulsion that had him reaching his high as well.

The both of you took a moment, allowing the air to reenter your lungs. Your heart was still jumping in your chest, overworked but completely full.

Then he gently pulled out, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm yours, just as much as you're mine. Do you understand?"

Mind still foggy, you were at least able to understand what he was asking of you. You offered a weary nod in breathless acceptance.

"Good girl." Shoto wiped a tear from your cheek, offering you a loving smile. "So, what do you want to do for dinner?"

Shoto's Instagram comments had been left untouched by you since then.

With every bit you held for him, he easily met the admiration tenfold, even if you failed to see it sometimes.

It didn't matter; he would always be there to remind you, in whichever way he deemed fitting.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

If Hybe is great at something, it's false marketing. It's insane to think that they edited the teasers and trailers that way to make it look like it's a pure Jimin and Jungkook show, just for Tedros actually being in 50 % of the show. At this point they should called it a VMK travel show. I lost all interest because I know exactly how the next episodes will go. I don't even know if I want to see the Sapporo episodes. Who knows, maybe NJ will make an appearance in these episodes? With Hybe you never know. 💀 I also won't buy the photobook or any merch. Not worth my money. If there are any good pictures in the photobook, someone will post them. That's enough for me. This is so fucked up, honestly. And we all know Tedros will be all over JK and Jimin will get hate for just existing. I'm done.

Was it that hard to include him in the Jeju teasers from the beginning? In the press releases too? At least I could have managed my expectations. But they had to drop the news a week before.

It's ridiculous and they fumbled the teaser too cause we can all see what the vibe was and it certainly wasn't awkward on jikook's part, that's for certain. I can take one episode with Jungkook being a little bitch to him, but if he's there for the entirety of the Jeju trip, that is fucked. He can have his shows with his friends with no members of his group involved. He can have his jeju trips with his girlfriend. But not jikook, nope. The lack of self-awareness is astounding.

And as to the photobook, I kinda don't want to pay some 100 euros to see the face of someone who is not part of the actual concept of the show.

Logically, his presence can't ruin the entire show. We had the CT part and we know that jikook were alone in Sapporo. I wish we could skip to that because I have a feeling it will be the highlight and probably make us forget about the Jeju bullshit.

[thebrookesnook]

looks at u while sliding a piece of paper that just says ‘Suonuma’ on it as i look at you with the biggest baby seal eyes 👀 is it romantic? platonic? some secret third thing that astounds and maybe confuses the local populace?

oh sweet Mari, you opened the gates and let the brainrot out.

This is a little long because i cannot shut up about these two or be brief about them.

SO 👏

First question: i see them very much as enemies-to-something because i personally dont mind either or, they just got smthing going on and everyone can tell (and by everyone i mean shishitoren and nirei).

My love for this pair started out as a crackship ever since i saw them banter for the first time.

(Chapter 8)

They're so fruity and for what. SUO WAS COMING IN SO STRONG AND KANUMA WAS NOT THAT. Now Kanuma, lovely boy he is, but at the time I went "who and where was the adorable and cute, he's being a brat if anything"—i see it now tho. (Also yes, im very much aware it was a taunt in the way someone would taunt someone being childish bUT STILL-)

And then their fight?? Absolutely humiliating for Kanuma but Suo's (lowkey) sadistic tendencies really shines a light and it's because of the former! (and other things but mostly kanuma's actions, so let's ignore that for now) In all seriousness, this fight was the first time we see Suo emotional since he was likely angry at the other for being immature, self-centered and hypocritical. All he's hearing from Kanuma was "me, me, me" so when he finally puts him in his place, his face was showing his sick satisfaction for the latter's humiliation mirroring the Kanuma's short-lived humilitation towards a downed Saruwatari (aka dude who got pummeled by Togame in their first meeting). Giving out due punishment in hopes of teaching him a lesson. (which is giving brat tamer vibes- 🤭)

The fight also sparked a change in Kanuma—who was also affected by Choji's change when he became the leader, likely influenced by his closeness to Choji (being close friends and all) and had let his ego get the better of him—and had done some reflecting, taking Suo's words to heart. Which is why we still see him in Shishitoren, because clearly they knew they needed to change and they were going to fix the problems they created/aggravated instead of running away.

(Chapter 116)

Suo being so surprised and curious to see Kanuma there and then redirecting the conversation back to Kanuma's lack of response was just the cherry on top for solidifying these two for me. They're in the middle of an all-out war and Suo's chatting him up like they're pals catching up on a regular Tuesday was ugHHHH OKAY SUO, I SEE WHERE YOUR PRIORITIES LIE.

(Chapter 116)

"I swear I'll never let you toy with me again!" Sir, that's hmm...you're still letting him get to your head cuz you were looking for him in Chapter 159. You're honestly lying to yourself rn.

Speaking of, it would be one thing if Kanuma's the only one being hyperaware of the other's presence (makes sense) it's a wHOLE OTHER THING WHEN EVEN SUO'S LOOKING FOR HIM TOO LIKE??? *gestures wildly*

(Chapter 159-161)

Whatever is going on between these two, it's mutual.

(Chapter 161)

Everyone is seeing this, everyone is acknowledging/amused/exasperated by it. Suo's probably happy that Kanuma had take his words to heart but the latter is still traumatized by him that it makes the whole thing hilarious.

I love them, i love their interactions. i wanted to be a fly buzzing thru them just to hear whatever the Suo said to Kanuma because he's a shit stirrer and he's proud of it.

Even if i do pair them with anyone else, they're still gonna have that weird tension between them that i will fondly hold close to my heart. They give me "i can fix him energy" and SUO DID, while also giving him nightmares 😃👍.

[dragonkatgirl]

man i already knew australia was a country of apathetic voters who only care about what affects them, but seeing in it once again in numbers is staggering.

although i shouldn’t be too staggered, ‘stop the boats’ was only a decade ago, those st kilda riots were only a little bit before that, and neo-nazis were waving transphobic banners on the steps of victorian parliament earlier this year.

but i hear the justifications from both ‘sides’ of this debate and i am just astounded at the lack of self awareness coming from the ‘no’ side.

there was of course the ‘if you don’t know vote no’ bullshit and various conspiracy theories involving the u.n mostly from the right, but then you got those ‘lefties’ who thought that it didn’t go far enough and thus would vote no, like, did you think that people would take this as a reason to go further? that a treaty to honour the land rights of aboriginal communities would be advocated for by the same racist shitheads who voted along side you? of course it fucking wouldn’t be, i honestly wouldn’t be surprised if a treaty was dead in the water for the next few decades.

all the no voters are connected by a belief that they are the main characters of life, either the main targets of international conspiracies or the hero who would lead a revolution, but in reality they are neither, they are people who looked at dutton and palmer and still decided to vote along side them aka, ignorant cunts.

there were also people saying that there are more important issues right now, e.g. the housing crisis, cost of living etc. but those don’t require a fucking referendum in order to get addressed, it is possible to care about more than one thing at a time, saying ‘no’ isn’t a protest vote, you aren’t sacrificing jackshit you self righteous cunts, all you are saying is you only care about yourself, full stop.

there is this stereotype in australia that we go for the underdogs, the little guy, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. this countries ability to care extends at most to the afl team you and your family go for, in regards to minorities groups, whether it be lgbtq+ people, immigrants, refugees, or in this case, aboriginal australians, it’s the same old ‘fuck you, got mine’.

sorry for the rant about australian politics, but i just need to vent that yet again my home country disappoints, and yet again i am unsurprised.

[mc-dude]

In a surprise to fucking everyone, apparently, somehow the biggest brain strategy of "relentlessly demonize people who don't agree with me and might vote against my candidate" resulted in 60m people voting against said candidate. Fucking astounding, who could have predicted this

[neonthebright]

Why would someone hum in an office environment. No one else wants to hear it, dude

[saintobio]

PLEASE THE LATEST CHAPTER IS PROBABLY THE BEST CHAPTER BECAUSE OF HOW WELL YOU WROTE IT AND THE EMOTIONS IT PULLED FROM ME! I'm shaking with anger because of how they treat MC and how they still think they're the victims. The lack of self-awareness is ASTOUNDING. (I feel like a Karen complaining over a counter here while an employee frozen in shock looks at me in fear, honestly)

Gojo completely ignored everything else she said for that one comment about his mother leaving him and while I do get that was completely out of line, I would just like to remind his frosty, crusty ass that EVERYTHING HE DID TO HER WAS OUT OF LINE. He was just excited to jump on a reason to be mad at her so he could feel better and justify fucking her over constantly! And Sierra? My God I think he might be a man BECAUSE WHERE DID SHE GET ALL THAT AUDACITY??? She literally took money from Gojo's father without him knowing and she may not be a gold-digger but she also has no integrity whatsoever. To claim to hate a man and then use his money? And still take gifts from Gojo with no guilt? And THEY CALL MC DESPERATE? (i am poor myself so it's okay for me to slander her 😌)

As for Gojo's friends, it's about fucking time they stopped enabling his cheating ass. I don't know how close they are with MC but I just couldn't stand how they both thought bringing both the wife and the wannabe was a good idea. They were nice, yes, but they also didn't stop Gojo from bringing Sierra. So good on them for finally snapping out.

Please I'm sorry for the long ask I just have a lot of feelings 😭 I hope to see Gojo and Sierra suffer after this. Question tho, and you don't have to answer if it's not okay to ask! Is Gojo amd Sierra's karma coming soon? Is MC still gonna suffer more after this or was this her turning point?

I am so excited for the next chapters this series is so so good. Thank you for sharing this with us! ❤️✨

p.s. if u're still accepting emoji anons, can i pls be 🦴?

i can only answer one of ur question 😭 yes yn will suffer more but you’ll understand why next chapter. and ooof i felt ur anger through this ask PLSS the karen sjdnsj yea you can be bone anon

[mediocre-eternity]

Hello. Today is 30 December 2022

I didn’t realize my holiday preoccupations and rebuilding of our Island would take me so far away from writing but I do appreciate the interest in my life and my various wisdoms.

To hold such adoring fans over, I figure I’d fill you in on some conversations I’ve had as of late.

Daniel and I hadn’t realized the “Devil’s Minion” chapter of Queen of the Damned was as popular with fringe audiences as we expected. Daniel, in fact, had no plans on becoming as much of a character as Lestat and in fact, uses pseudonyms for most of his literature. We had a good time looking through your various posts and speculations about us. Honestly, we aren’t as much of a whirlwind of succulent romantic horror as Lestat and Louis. We’re more like two rats kissing in front of an inferno at the dump. Regardless, we thought it would hilarious to fill you in with tidbits about us two.

Although we can see the appeal of assigning “The Only Time” by Nine Inch Nails as “our” song, “We’re In This Together” is much more accurate to how we operate. We’re shocked and delighted, however, that a lot of readers could pick up on our 20th century musical fixations. And seeing Trent Reznor aged about thirty years since we discovered him sort of…propelled Daniel into the present time period. Well, thank you Mister Trent Reznor for in part helping a small immortal’s fledgeling regain some of his mental acuities. At least you haven’t died yet.

We are also absolutely astounded that readers picked up on what the final “nail in the coffin” (as he likes to say) was for Daniel’s poor mortal body. But that’s all he’ll let me get into.

Daniel started calling me “boss” as a joke about four years after we met. Since then, the nickname has spilled over into our larger coven. Benji uses “boss” for me as well and Jesse, occasionally. Lestat keeps me in his phone as “chef” after laughing so hard at the explanation for it I thought he’d started seizing. Still, my pet name remains one of my favorite things in the world.

Daniel did, in fact, call me an “immortal idiot” for asking him to show me how to use the phone. Speaking of, Daniel’s portion of Queen of the Damned was entirely volunteered by Daniel to Lestat; no psychic tricks necessary. Because of this, we all ended up with a much more comical rendition of our relationship. I believe if Lestat had stolen from my mind (or just asked me) readers would have understood a much different perspective. But in this reality, I’m famed for blenders. Merci, mon amie.

Daniel wants everyone to know that he hasn’t stopped smoking. It’s part of his “vampire aesthetic,” as he likes to call it.

Daniel is not monolingual. He picked up some Italian in our time together while he was still mortal and perfected the language further from his decade with my maker. Teaching him French is another task as me and Lestat speak two different dialects of French and Daniel has trouble floating between the two. It’s hilarious how Daniel has become somewhat of a case study for American lacking in linguistics.

We love looking at fan art of us two, especially one’s highlighting my eccentricities. I believe more people need to understand how self aware I am of how I speak and move my body, and what I ultimately decide to do. So it’s extra silly when fans try to guess how I might present myself. I did see a small comic strip of my desires to be ultra-close to Daniel. I’ll admit that I have sat on his lap when other seats were perfectly available.

That’s all I can think up for now, plus I shouldn’t divulge too much all at once. If I were to, perhaps you’d be more keen on picking myself and Daniel out from the Times Square crowd tomorrow night. In case you felt bored, anyway.

[pumpkinpaix]

babe for salty asks 14? HAHAHA if not that's okay XD

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

.....*whispers* the lack of critical reading skills and also the absurd lack of self-awareness in this fandom is kind of astounding sometimes /o\

i think, maybe if I’m going to be a little more specific and constructive?? i would probably ask people in american fandom specifically to take a look at their interpretations of characters and themes and notice how their political and cultural background influences those interpretations in ways that are completely unsupported by the text/deeply culturally ignorant. e.g. wwx is an extraordinary misunderstood unorthodox genius who stood up against a corrupt system as a revolutionary figure (no), or wwx is a working-class hero (nO), actually on that note, popular interpretations on class conflict in mdzs (why!!), gusu lan is abusive and cruel, specifically regarding lwj’s punishment (no!!!!!), the obsession with “complicity” (lxc, jc, nmj sometimes -- i cannot fucking emphasize enough how much that is directly taken from current left-leaning political rhetoric in the united states--a rhetoric that I think should be seriously reexamined but that’s a whole other point), trying to map american race struggles onto different groups in mdzs (no!! no no!!!), “fetishization” discourse (woof), misunderstandings of how morality matters thematically to the text (AAAAAA) etc.

i understand that everyone comes to a text from their own perspective, including me! of course i bring my own personal biases into my interpretations, but i really. most of the things i listed are points that I genuinely do not think can be argued in meaningful ways? im not sure how interested i am in actually explaining myself on a lot of them because im honestly kind of exhausted, but like!!! anyways. that’s my unpopular opinion. i am NOT sticking this in the tag lmfao

ty for asking babe 😭

salt asks

[didnt-want-to-be-a-halfblood]

Okay Riordanverse gods rated best to worst based on how they treat people

1. Egyptian gods. These guys are pretty okay for the most part. Because they have hosts with actual humans they get a taste of human experience and I think that makes them better gods. For the most part they just do what they're made to do, it's nothing personal. It's like... just their nature. Also most have like an animal connected with them and, like, can u blame an vulture for being a vulture? Nah, man.

2. I guess... Roman gods? Sure, they never show up and talk to their kids but they put such a good supportive system in place they don't really need to? Generations of demigods survive and thrive. Honestly, the fact they try to stay out of things is probably for everyone's benefit because as soon as they get involved personally... yikes.

3. Greek gods. They're a mess. A little more chaotic and emotional and a horribly dysfunctional family. And often their kids pay the price. A lot of backstabbing... a lot of drama... not good.

4. Norse gods. Holy shit. Of course they're not all bad but... they all have such horrible capacity for evil and the lack of self-awareness is astounding. They're the only ones who didn't bother to make a safe-haven for their children. And all these awful things are just normal and not a big deal to them? It's like... who tf let y'all be in charge??? You do not deserve these powers??? Ugh. The worst.

[gh0st-patr0l]

[/rp]

Okay I need to talk about Phil for a minute. Specifically, how shit of a dad he’s been

Like, just to clarify up top; his two Canon kids are Wilbur and Tommy (Tommy could be argued non-canon, since he only referred to Phil as his dad once, but I’m writing this on the assumption that even if Tommy isn’t really his kid, they definitely have a father/son dynamic and Tommy looks to him as a guiding figure in his life, and Phil is aware of this. I’m also gonna include Tubbo under that latter option, since Phil mentioned him being a part of the family, and they were pretty close in-character)

I think my main thing is that he’s pretty much... given up on all of his kids.

I think the best example is how today went. First of all, Tommy? Phil’s long since stopped trying to help him. He was one of the only characters who knew, via Techno, that Tommy was in exile and how to find him, and truly never bothered visiting. He calls Tommy stupid for clinging to the country he and Wilbur built despite its flaws and his penchant for war, ignoring where those behaviors might have spurred from. He doesn’t at any point even Try to understand why Tommy acts the way he does, or any of his trauma or the pain he’s been through. If SMP Earth is canon, then Phil KNOWS and contributed to the fact that all Tommy has seen as he’s grown is war, violence, and conflict, yet somehow expects him to know better than to perpetuate those things. 

This extends to Tubbo, to- he treats Tubbo like a villain, like he deserves what’s coming to him. Despite knowing Tubbo, seeing the stress he’s under, knowing that this was a child shoved into a position of power that he never asked for with the responsibility of a failing nation on his shoulders. Even before the house arrest incident- the lack of sympathy or effort is honestly astounding.

Then Wilbur! Or, more accurately, Ghostbur. His interactions with Ghostbur were honestly the only ones to truly leave me Mad at his character. Like, he tells Ghostbur that he’s teaching him a lesson, that he’ll understand... but he can’t. Ghostbur can’t understand, because he’s not Wilbur. He doesn’t have those memories or experiences. He didn’t even do any of the things that Phil is punishing him for! It was torment without reason, and Phil clearly either doesn’t understand that or doesn’t care. I personally think this may be Phil being unable to accept that Wilbur is gone, and just trying to pretend that Ghostbur is the same, but that really doesn’t make it better.

I think, in character, this does have a sensible explanation. When he joined the server, he was forced to kill Wilbur. This clearly left a mark on him, emotionally, and I think he responded by... closing off, essentially, to most of the other kids in his life that he felt were going in the same direction as Wil. He retreated fully- the only relationship he fully committed to was Techno, because he knew that Techno would never let himself be torn apart like Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo had been.

So yes, I think the way he’s behaved makes total sense! But... it’s still not good.

What he’s done with Techno, and what I believe he’s clearly starting to do with Ranboo, is redirect his attention and care towards other people who feel like a safer bet, so to speak. Kids who aren’t already so far gone. But that’s not what a parent is supposed to do. You don’t screw up with your kids, give up, and just get new ones. That’s... not how it works. At all.

Instead of reaching out, trying to help or guide Tommy and Tubbo and Ghostbur, his response has been to leave them behind. To give up and let them struggle, telling himself that they’ll figure it out on their own. And his participation in the Doomsday? His claims that this was a lesson? Honestly upsetting. He saw destroying everything the boys cared about, everything they had been fighting and putting themselves through to keep, as a lesson. As a hard knock back onto the right path. When in reality, while it may have technically been good, only hurt them more deeply and put them in a more desperate situation, which could very well lead to their self-destruction. And again, he either doesn’t understand, or he doesn’t care.

Like don’t get me wrong! Phil’s character has some good ideals, and I think his heart, in a lot of the time, Is in the right place. But when it comes to his kids? His decisions about who’s worth caring about or not? He’s a shit fuckin’ dad, dude

[talkingtea]

it just makes me laugh that she sits in her sweat all day. she washes her hair once every couple of months. she cleans dogs in a kitchen sink. she has some serious hygiene issues and has the nerve to talk about nora’s breathe smelling bad. and honestly that falls on her as well, because nora can’t wash herself or her own mouth.

The lack of self-awareness is astounding.

[batik96]

Venturing into 2020 ...

This will be the third year that I’ve used a daily word-count self-challenge to see if I can inspire myself to write more.

The first year, 2018, I wrote 43 words on New Year’s Day and, realizing that managing that every day would give me nearly 15,700 words at year’s end, I set that as my goal. (Not literal everyday writing but averaging it all out.) I surprised myself and ended up with a 50-words-a-day average. So I upped my self-challenge for 2019 to that 50-word level. 

I ended 2019 with a daily word average of 114 words and more than 41,000 total words.

I feel as if upping my self-challenge to 114 words a day in 2020 would be setting myself up for failure -- there’s a fine line between *challenge* and “seemingly impossible task” -- so I’m not officially going to go there. Instead, I’m going to maintain the 50-words-a-day goal for 2020 and hope that I meet it (and maybe, just maybe, manage to exceed those 114 words a day anyway)!

Dec. 31: Happy end to 2020. I am about to end the year having written far fewer words than I did in 2019. While I’m glad I managed to beat my daily word-average goal, and to some extent am pleased that I managed to write anything at all, I had been hoping for more. I have the ideas. (Well, a couple of ideas.) And I have a WIP that I think I’ll really like -- if I can pull it off. But the words don’t want to come. So I’m trying to be OK with writing about 25 percent* less than I did in 2019, recognizing that it’s still more than I wrote in the majority of years since 2012. And 2021 is a new year in which I can try again to write more (and hopefully better) words. (* That percentage depends on what measure I use. According to AO3, I’ve posted 20,000 fewer words than 2019′s 47,000. Which is pushing a loose 50 percent drop. But I know I have about 7,000 words in my unposted WIP, which brings the difference closer to 13,000, which I’m loosely considering 25 percent.)

Feb. 21: This is my first entry of 2020 and ... not great. But ... part of the reason I do it this way is because, when the words come, they tend to come in clusters of more than 50 words.So taking six weeks to write my first words isn’t fatal to the year-end goal.

During the weekend of Feb. 15-16, I wrote 1,320 words. Today (Feb. 21) I have added another 903 words, for a year-to-date word total of 2,223 words and a daily word average of 42.75 words. Which isn’t far off of that 50-words-a-day goal, despite my late start. (The words still feel kind of like I’m pulling teeth, but I have a solid idea -- and a unique idea -- that I like. Here’s hoping I can see it through to the end.

Feb. 23: Well, it wasn’t much, especially considering it was the weekend, but I added another 200 words to my current doc today, which brings my yearly word count up to 2,423 and my daily word average up to 44.87 words a day. I’m creeping closer to my 50-word-a-day goal and trying not to stall out for lack of time/energy. I want to write this. But every time I sit down to write, I’m also aware that I want to quilt. And I want to read. And I want to bake. And I barely have time for any of those things, let alone all of them. But I am trying to juggle. We’ll see how long I can keep everything in the air.

Feb. 29: It’s Leap Day, and I am determined not to waste an extra day in the year by doing nothing. So, along with making peanut butter cups and hoping to quilt yet today and maybe go for a walk, I have added 560 words to my current WIP, bringing my year-to-date word total up to 2,983 words and my daily average up to 49.71 words. I’m going to try to add to that before today is over. If not, then before the weekend is over. But I’m pleased that I’ve managed that many. 

March 7: So far today I haven’t managed any words. (I can hope that changes.) But, earlier this week, over the course of two days, I managed 599 words. That brings my yearly total today up to 3,582 words and my daily average to 53.46. 

March 11: On March 9 I managed 277 words. Today I added 363, for a combined 640 words. That brings the yearly total up to 4,222 words and my daily average up to 59.46 words. Slow but steady ...

March 15: Today I have added 579 words to my current WIP, which brings my yearly total up to 4,801 and my daily average to 64 words a day. (Though my doc says I have 5,108 words, so I’m not sure how to account for the missing 307 words. And, if I were to add them, it would push my word average to 68 words a day.)

April 16: I managed 1,031 words April 15 on a new WIP. (I would still be focused on my old WIP, except I have an exchange fic due at the end of May.) It took me a while to hit on an idea for the new one, but I’m happy with how it’s going so far. So, in the 106 days (as of April 15, not today) so far this year, I’ve written 5,832 words, for a daily average of 55.01 words a day. My average dropped in that month I apparently took off from writing, but I’m still above my daily average goal and my exchange fic is moving along, so I’m counting it as a win!

April 19: I have written another 1,339 words today on my exchange fic. Still quite a way to go, but it’s progress. I probably could keep writing -- conditions in my house are good at the moment. But I’ve been working on in for hours now (amid texting with friends and browsing Tumblr and Twitter), so I feel as if it’s a good time to stop and try something else for a bit. Anyway. That brings my yearly word count up to 7,171 words and my daily average (in 110 days) up to 65.19 words. I’m OK with that!

April 25: I’m developing a pattern, though not a bad one, I don’t think. I seem to be maxing out my writing sessions around 1,000 words before feeling the need to stop for the moment. Today, for example, I wrote 1,066 words. Not gonna complain about that, at all! It brings my year-to-date word total up to 8,237 words (in 116 days) and my daily word average to 71 words a day. I’m going to aim for more tomorrow, since I seem to manage to write on weekends more easily than I manage during the week. But we’ll see how things go.

April 26: I managed to write again today -- a good thing, since I rarely find time during the week and, thus, rely on weekends to get much of my writing done. I wrote 1,856 words (not including the ones I wrote to explain the ideas I have for the parts I haven’t yet written). That brings my yearly word total up to 10,093 words in 117 days, for a daily word average of 86.26 words. I’ll take it!

May 2: Well, I wrote 1,010 words today. None of them were for the exchange fic on which I should be working, but they were words. Words that I’m actually pretty pleased with, so I’m not feeling any regret about not focusing on my exchange fic. Today’s words bring me up to 11,103 words in 123 days, for a daily word average of 90.268. Fingers crossed I can find more time to write tomorrow -- and maybe on my exchange fic!

May 3: Well, I wrote another 1,023 words today and think I’ve finished (pending beta) the short little one-off that settled into my brain. That brings my word count for the year to 12,126 words in 124 days, for a daily average of 97.79 words. I’m still hoping to write more before the day is done, but I wanted to note this before I lost track of how many words I had in the first doc. Now ... on to my exchange fic. Update: I just added another 1,378 words to my exchange fic, which puts me at 2,401 words for the day and 13,504 words for the year. That raises my daily word average to 108.9 words a day. 

May 6: Over the past few days, I’ve written 474 words to put the finishing touches on something. That number’s deceptive, considering that some of those were new and some of them were replacing others already written and I honestly can’t be sure how many I actually wrote. But it was at least 474. Which brings my year-to-date word total up to 13,978 and my daily word average over 127 days to 110.06. The writing’s not what I would call “easy” right now. It’s not just flowing from my fingertips perfectly to grace my Gdocs. But it is happening, which means it’s not as hard as it has been at points during the past few years. I appreciate that.

May 9: I just added 1,051 words to my WIP. That brings me to a 130-day year-to-date word total of 15,029 and a daily word average of 115.6 words. I’m ... stunned.

May 16: I think I’ve finished my exchange fic. Today’s writing involved approximately 946 words, for an approximate year-to-date total of 15,975 words and a daily word average (in 137 days) of 116.6 words. (And my exchange deadline is still an astounding 15 days away. It’s not even a result of my “deadline’s approaching” panic-induced “inspiration”!) 

June 21: It seems like I’ve had a lull in writing (yes), but I finished my exchange fic and then spent some time beta-ing other exchange fics, so I wasn’t non-wordy during the past month. Still, it felt good today when I was able to add 579 words to the WIP I started in February. I also reworked a section, probably adding a few words, subtracting a few words, so I have no idea how many words I added there. And I think I have a workable route forward on finishing the WIP one of these days. (I won’t set a deadline, because artificial deadlines seem to freeze me as much as real ones inspire me.) Anyway ... 579 words added to the yearly word count makes for 16,554 words and a daily average (in 173 days) of 95.687 words a day. 

July 5: I finally had some time when things were quiet enough for me to focus on writing, so I did. I was at 1,214 words when the quiet went away. That gives a year-to-date word total of 17,768 words and a daily average (in 187 days) of 95.01 words. 

July 12: I’m still hoping to write more, but ... I went back and tweaked a conversation I wrote last week, adding 236 words. That brings me up to 18,004 words in 194 days for a daily average of 92.8 words.

July 21: I’m running behind in updating this, but ... on Sunday (July 19 -- happy birthday, BC!) I wrote 1,411 words on my current WIP. [It’s getting closer to done, but I’m still leery of my (made up) Aug. 1 deadline.] Those words bring me up to a yearly total of 19,415 words in 201 days, for a daily average of 96.59 words. I want to hope I get more written before the weekend, but ... it never seems to work. I managed to get my doc open Monday but didn’t add a word. It just sat there in a tab all day, watching me work. It’s open again today, but I’m not sure the result will be any different. Still, I’m trying!

P.S. I added another 555 words on July 21, bringing my word total (for 203 days) up to 19,970 words and a daily average of 98.37 words.

July 24: I’m surprising myself this week, managing to write a bit in the morning before work. (And letting a few minutes of writing time bleed into working time. But I was good and eventually closed out the doc to keep myself from straying away from work.) Anyway, on Thursday (yesterday/the 23rd), I wrote 779 words (and got a good chunk of my WIP’s ending written)! I still have to finish the ending and write an earlier scene, but ... it feels doable. The 779 words brings my word total for the year up to 20,749 words and a daily average (for 205 days) up to 101,21 words!

July 26: I am really trying to get this WIP finished. To that end, I have written 932 words so far today. I am optimistic that not many more will be needed and I hope maybe to write some of them today. Still, for now, that brings me to a year-to-date word total of 21,681 words and a daily average (in 207 days) of 104.73 words.

Aug. 2: I added 431 words to my WIP on Aug. 1, bringing my year-to-date word total up to 22,112 words and a daily average (in 213 days) of 103.8 words a day. (That was 213 days as of Aug. 1, not Aug. 2.) I had hoped to write some more today, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. It’s ... complicated.

Aug. 19: No writing update. I’m kind of ... stuck. My WIP is either very nearly done or about to be razed to its foundation. I’m not sure which. While I decide, it’s sitting and I’m not writing. But I didn’t want this post to end up too far down my dash to find if/when I manage to string together words in a coherent fic-ly fashion again.

Sept. 6: Maybe it’s the three-day weekend allowing my brain a chance to relax and consider words, but, between today and Saturday/yesterday, I have managed 807 words on my WIP. I would like to think I’ll be able to add more before the weekend is done, but ... I’ll be happy with 807 words, if that’s what I end up with. It brings me to a year-to-date total of 22,919 words in 249 days, and a daily average of 92.04 words. Not as good as I’d like, but still well above my goal, so ... I’m OK with that! (And glad to be writing again, however slowly.)

Oct. 1: Between Sept. 30 and today, I have written 633 words. I still have a long way to go toward finishing this new thing (my WIP is on hold while I work on an exchange fic that is coming due alarmingly quickly, considering I just started writing it). That brings my year-to-date word total up to 23,552 words and my daily average (in 274 days) to 85.956 words. A bit lower than I had hoped, but they are words and I won’t complain.

Oct. 7: It’s been hard the past few days to keep track of a word count. I’ve basically been leaving my doc open all day every day and hoping that I manage to add a few words here and there. Along with adding some, I’ve subtracted some, I’ve tweaked some so they’re barely recognizable as having come from what was there before. But I have officially added 1,208 words since Oct. 1. That brings my year-to-date word total to 24,760 words and my daily average (in 280 days) to 88.4 words. I still have a long way to go on this WIP and not a long time in which to finish it, but it’s progress.

Oct. 11: OK, so ... I’m totally losing track of words gained. In the past few days, I added words. And then I subtracted words and added new words. And then I took a chunk of words and reworked them. I can say for sure that I have added 182 words. Though the reality is that there were many more than that written. Anyway. That’s 182 words added to the total word count to get 24,942 words in 284 days, That’s a daily average of 87.8 words. With 13 days left until I have to submit this WIP as a finished exchange gift. 

Oct. 17: I’m optimistic that I finished my current WIP (as opposed to the one that was a WIP before the current WIP and remains a WIP) this morning. If my beta agrees. Between edits and tweaks and the section I added this morning, I have no idea how many words that is. But, if I go back to when I started this WIP and add the current total to my word count as I started, I have written 26,588 words so far this year (not counting the ones I wrote and then edited or the ones I wrote and then deleted), for a daily average of 91.68 words in 290 days.

Oct. 18: My beta didn’t think I was quite done yesterday, but I was close, and I think I addressed her questions this morning. That’s another 291 words on Day 291 of the year. With a year-to-date word total of 26,879 words, that’s a daily word average of 92.367 words. 

Dec. 7: *sigh* My writing mojo has well and truly flown the coop. I think I need a vacation. But, while I have time to take (or lose) by the end of the year, work is too busy -- and too shorthanded -- for that to happen. So ... I muddle on. After submitting my exchange fic before Halloween, I haven’t really written anything new. Until I got an inkling of a thought for a scene at bedtime last night. I texted myself the bare bones and turned them into 451 words this morning. That’s not going to make up for not having written in close to two months, but ... it’s something. It’s 27,330 words in 342 days, for a daily word average of 79.679 words. I’m behind last year’s average, but still above my stated goal for the year (if not my hoped-for goal) and I still have time ... if I can find my focus.

Dec. 14: Baby steps. I’ve made no new progress on my WIP, but I did manage 518 words for an Advent fic prompt -- held over from 2019 because I only made it about halfway through them last December. That brings my yearly total to 27,848 words in 349 days (the way this day has started, I’m assuming there will be no time for non-work writing today), for a daily average of 79.79 words. Unless I somehow manage to finish the year strong, I’m not going to top last year’s average (and, not to seem pessimistic -- more realistic -- if it’s taken me 349 days to write nearly 28,000 words, I don’t see myself managing 13,000 words in the next 17 days. (That really would be a Christmas miracle.) But it is still well about my initial 43-words-a-day average and my “official” 50-words-a-day goal, even if I don’t write another word this year. So I will continue trying to write as I am able and try not to be too frustrated by how difficult words have seemed at large chunks of time this year.

Dec. 20: I tell myself that, with a handful of days before Christmas, I should be trying to write more of last year’s Advent fic. Or that cabin fic I’ve been pondering for months (well before the cabin fic fest was a thing). Instead, I managed 434 words on my WIP -- and count it as a win, even though I wish it were so much more. That brings me to 28,282 words in 255 days, for a daily average of 110.9 words a day. (That jump in average still doesn’t seem right, but apparently it is. It goes to show how even a relative few words can make a big difference.)

Dec. 31: Happy end to 2020. I am about to end the year having written far fewer words than I did in 2019. While I’m glad I managed to beat my daily word-average goal, and to some extent am pleased that I managed to write anything at all, I had been hoping for more. I have the ideas. (Well, a couple of ideas.) And I have a WIP that I think I’ll really like -- if I can pull it off. But the words don’t want to come. So I’m trying to be OK with writing about 25 percent* less than I did in 2019, recognizing that it’s still more than I wrote in the majority of years since 2012. And 2021 is a new year in which I can try again to write more (and hopefully better) words. (* That percentage depends on what measure I use. According to AO3, I’ve posted 20,000 fewer words than 2019′s 47,000. Which is pushing a loose 50 percent drop. But I know I have about 7,000 words in my unposted WIP, which brings the difference closer to 13,000, which I’m loosely considering 25 percent.)

[absentlyabbie]

 The Narrative Mechanics of Kissing

booklovers au

@storiesofimagination​ prompted me for this au and “first kiss” and got, well, 10 pages of... this. enjoy :)

------

Tommy hunched over the keyboard, brow furrowed and fingers flying, deep in the zone as he drafted the next scene of his current manuscript. Perhaps it was the creative influx of innovating a new corner of the genre, but he felt like a live wire, harnessed, all intensity and electric force funneled to a purpose.

He was focus distilled, passion refined, a towering inferno of zeal and concentration—

Behind him, stifled laughter exploded inelegantly against a suppressing palm, and Tommy blinked hard, sitting up with a sharp and startled breath.

Snapped abruptly out of the escalator of flowery synonyms that had  been running in the back of his head, Tommy looked at the screen and frowned hard. 

“Wha…? That can’t be right,” he muttered, incredulous at the three slim paragraphs gracing an otherwise blank page. He would have sworn he’d written thousands, pages of words.

Another muffled laugh ended with a snort, and Tommy rolled his eyes heavenward and swiveled his chair to direct his frown at the blonde lying on his couch. Felicity had her bare feet propped against the armrest, hair spread golden and curling across the cushion. Pink lips pressed in a bitten grin, cheeks red as she swallowed another giggle, eyes focused on the several stapled pages she held over her head.

“Okay,” he drawled dryly, “I know I’m a master of wit and all, but I know for a fact nothing that funny happens in that chapter.”

Felicity jolted like she’d forgotten about him, to his stifled annoyance, and she lifted herself on one elbow and lay the pages on her stomach. “Um.” She snuck a finger under her glasses to wipe dampness from her lashes. “Not intentionally funny, no.”

His head pulled back, brows jumping high in affront. “Excuse me?”

“Oh,” Felicity winced, but there was still a smile in it. “Do you want me to lie and massage your ego?”

Tommy’s mouth worked and cheeks burned, speechless for a moment with equal parts embarrassment and wounded pride. He swallowed it manfully and cleared his throat. “Of course not. You are here as an editor, and I am a fully grown man.” He made a wheeling motion with his hand. “Spit it out. What’s so funny?”

She pushed herself up and swung her legs around to fold them on the cushions, propping her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. She lifted the pages in front of her and cleared her throat before dramatically reading out, “‘Annie melted against the hard planes of the vigilante’s leather-clad body as his lips crushed against hers. Her skin was electric under his touch, the commanding press of his mouth intoxicating. Her lips parted on a gasp, and his tongue swept into her mouth, battling her own for domination.’” She looked up at him over her glasses, one eyebrow sharply arched. “Do you need me to go on?”

Arms folding defensively, Tommy leaned back in his chair, one leg sticking out long. “What’s wrong with it? That scene is barely even starting.”

Felicity scoffed, eyes rolling and lips curved sardonically. “Oh trust me, I know, it gets worse from here.”

His shoulders hunched and he would be lying if he said that didn’t sting, a little. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

She sighed longsufferingly, her posture deflating and back collapsing into the couch. “It’s so…” her hand wheeled in the air, nose wrinkling as she chose her word. “Cheesy .”

Tommy’s jaw set, irritation and surprise tightening his shoulders and the fists tucked under his elbows. “You’re aware that this is romance. I know that’s not your preferred genre for personal reading, but cheesy is kind of part of the landscape. I’ve put up with plenty of condescending criticism about the lack of literary merits to my chosen field, but I have to say I didn’t expect it from you.”

Felicity’s brows raised, the look she gave him cool. “Are you done? Because that is not what I meant. This isn’t romance-genre-hallmark cheesy, it’s just… not good kissing.”

His reflexive genre-defensiveness dropped at that astounding pronouncement and he leaned forward, hands gripping his armrests, face incredulous. “What? What’s wrong with it! You usually like my kissing, you have specifically noted how hot my sexy scenes are.”

Felicity sat up again primly. “And most of the time they are, especially when you’re not falling back on outdated phrasing and boring gender tropes from the eighties and nineties.”

“Outdated…?” Tommy repeated, affronted. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, pushing down his temper. “Okay. Break it down for me. Tell me exactly what’s so wrong about it.”

“Gladly,” Felicity chirped, raising the pages again. “I mean, firstly, the whole thing where all of a sudden Cris is super dominating and aggressive, it kinda really threw me. Especially since Annie is just, like, totally into it? Makes no sense for who you’ve been establishing them to be. It’s just totally cut-and-paste lead-couple dynamics. I’m not trying to say you phoned this one in, but I know damn well you can do better by them.”

Tommy worked his jaw back and forth, trying to mull over her points and not just be annoyed at them. “So… you think their attitudes should be different.”

“Yes ,” Felicity enthused, eyes alight. “Cris has all this trauma and these hangups about his self worth and, like, smoldering-but-wounded intensity, right? So why is he this hypermasculine dominator all of a sudden? And how is that a thing that gets Annie off? Everything you’ve done with her so far, even with you being all deliberately obscure about her personal history, I would have expected her to instantly and firmly rebuff this kind of aggression, not…” her nose wrinkled again, “melt .”

Tommy propped his chin on his interlaced fingers, squinting thoughtfully over her argument. He exhaled heavily, nodding. “Okay, I get where you’re coming from. I guess I was just trying to give the reader what I thought would excite them in a sexy-superhero-romance first kiss, and I sidelined the actual characters in that. So… I guess Cris would be less looming and more…”

He bit at his bottom lip, groping blindly in his head for the word he wanted.

“Sensual?” Felicity offered.

“Sensual,” Tommy agreed. “And maybe even kind of tentative. Not sure if she was feeling what he was feeling.”

“Right.” Felicity nodded excitedly. “Absolutely. Especially since she doesn’t even know who he is under the hood yet, and honestly I wasn’t gonna bring it up now, but it seems way too early for the first kiss to me, like the dynamic should grow more and be more push-pull for a bit?” She lifted her hands and shook her head, cutting off her runaway train of thought. “But that’s a different, plot-and-pacing conversation, and we are discussing the narrative mechanics of kissing.”

Tommy watched her flip through the pages, mentally shelving his questions about her issues with the pacing to focus on one thing at a time. “Speaking of, you said it was bad kissing. The gender dynamics and out of character stuff I get, but how is the actual kissing bad?”

The face Felicity pulled was almost pitying. “When was the last time you enjoyed someone trying to ‘battle’ your tongue for dominance?” She even made air quotes.

Tommy opened his mouth, tilted his head. Directed his eyes towards the ceiling and memory.

“Exactly,” Felicity supplied smugly. “Bad kissing. I mean, literally think about it. Are they surrendering to physical chemistry and an unspoken connection, or are they fighting over possession of a peppermint?”

Tommy grimaced. “Point taken.” Then, skeptically, “Is that all, though?”

The scrunch of her mouth was almost apologetic.

Tommy flopped back in his chair, head rolling as he released a groan. “What else?”

“Their staging is kinda weird?”

He lifted his head and squinted at her. “Staging?”

“You know, the positions they’re in.” She shifted her torso to one side, hands raised in some configuration she seemed to think was a demonstration. “Like, how they’re standing, the ways they’re touching.”

Tommy squinted more squintily, this time at the wall to his left. He tried to reconstruct the scene in question in his head. “But what’s wrong with it? It’s a classic up-against-a-wall scenario. It’s sexy and intense and it has been turning people on in books and movies and TV for...” he gestured vaguely at the air, “ever.”

“Eh,” Felicity shrugged one shoulder, instantly dismissing a staple of steamy kisses everywhere. “They’re in a chilly alley in the middle of the night, and earlier in the chapter you said it rained. And I mean, maybe a nice, plaster-and-paint indoors wall isn’t so bad, but bricks or cement or whatever? Ew, and also ow.”

“Fair,” Tommy conceded. He wheeled his hand at her. “I know you’ve got more, so hit me.”

The lip-tucked smile she shot him was attempting apology and utterly failing. “The standing thing. Like. Cris is what? Six feet tall? And how tall is Annie?”

“Like five-foot-five.”

Felicity stared at the carpet and poked the tip of her tongue out, thinking. “So roughly my height.” Her gaze pulled to the side, the purse of her lips following it. “That’s a really awkward height difference for that position, right? My neck hurts imagining it.”

Tommy frowned, humming. “I don’t know, I think it would work fine.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Is he bending at the knees or something? Is she standing on a box?”

“Okay, I think we’re getting too bogged down in the practical details nobody is reading this for.” He sighed at her arched brows. “Except you.”

“It can’t only be me,” she drawled, unconvinced. “Stuff like that totally takes me out of the story because I do end up bogged down in practical details that aren’t working. I’m trying to imagine the scene, I want to picture it in my head. Like, I should be caught up in envisioning the sexiness, right? Except I’m trying to block it on my mental stage, and all I can picture is his neck at a ninety degree angle and her head tilted straight back like a baby bird receiving a worm.”

“Gross,” Tommy belted, laughing. “Ah, god, you ruined it for me. We have to change it.”

“Well,” she offered, trying to compromise, “she could be wearing very tall heels?”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, another hum dragging out in his throat. “This feels like a trap. She was just running before this and I feel like you’ll give me hell if I make her do that in giant-ass stilettos.”

She gave him a corny wink and finger guns, at which he scoffed a laugh. “That’s an excellent point, and you thought of it all on your own.”

“I wrote before you, you know,” he warned playfully. “Whole novels. Many, many novels.”

She sighed theatrically. “It’s truly a wonder how you managed that before being graced with my genius.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and teased, “Ugh, shut up. Back on topic, genius.”

She rubbed her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Yes, the weird kissing pose. Stand up.”

“Why?” He dragged the word out suspiciously.

She stood herself, wiggling her hands at him in a “get up” motion. “Because I’m definitely right, but we should still be sure. You’re how tall?”

He slouched deeper into his chair, but reluctantly admitted, “Five-ten.”

She rolled her eyes at his petulance and waved a hand dismissively. “Close enough. Up.”

He heaved an aggrieved sigh and sat up, which was apparently signal enough for Felicity to take hold of his wrists and drag at his arms as if she could haul all 170 pounds of him out of the chair on her own. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

She grinned cheekily as he stood. “Save it for the manuscript.”

“Har,” he deadpanned, lips twitching with the smile he refused to give in to. “Har har.”

“I’ll be here all night,” she shot back in a hokey comedian style.

Tommy snapped his mouth closed at the terrible, terrible sex pun that leapt immediately to mind, keeping it on the inside of his head by sheer willpower as she turned to look at the wall.

She held her hands up as if framing a picture, then turned and put her back against it. “Okay, come here.”

“This is getting a little weird,” he muttered, but did as he was bid.

Frowning like she was trying to solve a puzzle, Felicity took his hands and put them on her waist, then looked down at the inches of carpet between their toes. “Okay, you’re gonna have to step closer.”

He sighed. Shuffled his feet until they were awkwardly close. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she tipped her head this way and that, looking at the angles of her elbows, measuring the tilt of her chin with her hand.

“Okay, bring your head down.” She frowned up at him, but her eyes were on his neck and not at all on his face.

“This is the least sexy kiss positioning I have ever, and I mean ever, been involved in,” he complained.

“Poor baby,” she crooned mockingly, curling her hand around the back of his neck and applying pressure until he lowered his head.

He stopped when he was close enough he could have brushed noses with her if he were being careless. Her eyes were distractingly close, but still not looking at his face. “My eyes are up here.”

“Huh?” She finally met his gaze, and her mouth—wow, so close—twitched with amusement. “So sorry to make you feel objectified.”

“I do,” he insisted teasingly. “Like a literal object. You want me to have a dressmaker’s dummy delivered for you? Might be even more useful.”

“Certainly less sassy,” she laughed, and adjusted his grip on her waist.

“Sassy,” he drawled. “Yes, the adjective that has dogged me all my life.”

Felicity just shook her head, tucking away the left corner of her grin and making a dimple stand out on the right. She looked down at their feet and examined every angle of their position, ending with tipping her head back as she kept her hand on the back of his.

His breath caught as the tip of her nose bumped against his, only briefly. Butterflies erupted stupidly in his stomach.

“See, this is fine,” she murmured, making him blink. “But it’s only five inches.”

Tommy choked, jerking his head to the side and bracing one hand on the wall. Laughter strangled in his throat, sending heat into his cheeks. “Only five inches,” he wheezed.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, humor tingeing it as she let her head fall back with a thump against the wall. “You are—you are the worst, you know what I meant!”

He snickered, straightening a little and smiling down at the flush in her cheeks. “Good to know this is the optimum height difference,” he enunciated with a wink, “for up-against-a-wall kissing.”

She shrugged with her mouth, humming uncertainly. “I’m still not convinced it’s comfortable enough to not be distracting from the sexy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to smirk at her. “It’s been plenty comfortable in my experience.”

“In your—” she narrowed her eyes. “So you’ve done this?”

He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. “Not especially recently, but enough for a decent sample size, and with people of varying heights.”

She huffed, instantly slumping against the wall. “Why didn’t you just say that instead of going through this whole exercise with me?”

“Well,” he answered, light and airy, “I’ve never been the one against the wall. You still might be onto something. I mean, I’ve never had any complaints, but…”

His grin was half leer, and she made an exaggerated face at him. “Maybe because it’s just five inches,” she replied tartly.

“Oh,” he laughed, raising his head. “Oh, really.”

For a second, the response poised on his tongue was an offer to call Oliver for a demonstration, since he was who Tommy had physically modeled his archer vigilante on. But then the image of it, of Felicity against the wall and Oliver crowded up against her, head bent over her and hers tilted up, soured the words in his mouth. He swallowed them.

With a little cough, he straightened and pulled his hand, forgotten and warmed from the heat of her, from her waist. “So I think the results of this experiment are ambiguous enough to go ahead with nixing the wall kiss.”

Felicity blinked at him as he stepped back, hands rubbing against his jeans pockets. She pushed herself off the wall and quickly past him, back to the couch and the abandoned and much maligned pages. “Right. Yes. So something else there, I think.”

She sat down, focused back on the words he had written, flipping from one page to another. “Okay, but come here. Look at this.”

Breathing in deeply, Tommy sat on the couch beside her, leaning to see the print. “What am I looking at?”

“I mean, you did it before too on the part I read out loud, when the kiss starts, but it happens again here. The whole ‘crushing’ or ‘bruising’ kiss thing. It just doesn’t sound sexy. It sounds ow.”

“Hmm.” His eyes traced the lines til he found the words she had mentioned, and now that he read them over again, he had to admit they weren’t especially stirring. “It was supposed to be kind of a heat of the moment kiss, so it seemed like, I don’t know, the right level of intensity?”

She clicked her tongue. “I could see that for a hard, quick ‘oh my god we almost died’ kind of kiss, but it just goes on like that. And that does not read as hot to me.”

He tapped his fingers against his lips in contemplation, brow furrowed. “Sensual,” he murmured, recalling their earlier discussion about Cris’s character. “So, instead kind of a slow, steamy sort of kiss.”

Felicity hummed, but it was a very different hum from the ones before it. “You are definitely good at those,” she said under her breath. Abruptly, her head came up and she turned a defensive look on him. “Writing. At writing those.”

He exhaled a short laugh, tongue curling over his teeth in a helpless grin. “Trust me, I’m good at both.”

She cleared her throat and looked at him over her glasses. “Well, you could stand to prove it here.” She tapped a finger against the paper.

“Well, I intend to,” he responded archly. “So break it down with me. They’ve just run for their lives and swung into this alley, kind of hiding but also finally pretty sure they’re at a safe distance. She backs up against the wall, he stands close in front of her to, like, human shield or whatever—”

“Didn’t we just say no up-against-the-wall?” Felicity interrupted.

Tommy pursed his lips. “Roll with me here.” He waited til she waved her hand in a magnanimous go on gesture. “So they’re up against the wall, breathing hard, and really close. They stop looking over their shoulders and then look at each other.” He waggled his eyebrows just to make her roll her eyes and do that smile-hiding thing. “The chemistry sky rockets. Heat, sparks, bolts of lightning and tingles in their bits, etceteras, etceteras.”

She smothered a laugh with her hand.

“But,” he bit the t off sharply, “instead of a bruisy-ouch battle of the faces, he leans in, drawn in, like a magnet.” 

He leaned in closer, to illustrate. Lifting a hand, he let the fingertips hover just by Felicity’s cheek, not touching, just building the suspense. “They’re close enough to feel each other’s breath on their faces, hot, hurried. The surrender is slow, torturous.”

He bent over Felicity, her breath warm on his chin, her eyes fixed—finally—on his. “This way, the first, slightest brush of their lips is so built up it is itself almost orgasmic. An ecstatic explosion when the brush becomes a press, hot and wet and soft as a promise.”

His voice had lowered to a near-whisper, his chest on fire with the thrill of the tease, the unexpected delight of crafting each word and watching them hit his audience in real time, watching her cheeks flush and eyes darken, hearing her breath catch.

They were closer now even than they had been against the wall, his body curved over her, hand hovering by her face, strands of her hair tickling his knuckles. For a second—too many seconds, both more and less than he could count—the words evaporated from his mouth like water under a scorching sun, and they just held like that, no sound replacing his voice in the absence of the room except the push and pull of their breathing.

His gaze dropped to her lips, parted and temptingly cherry-pink.

The desire to close the gap was followed by a mental bucket of water and he stiffened.

This was Felicity. His beta reader and copy editor. His friend, even. She was here as part of her job, not to be coaxed into—into—into whatever in the hell he thought he was doing here.

He swallowed hard and willed his eyes to move from her mouth. “Um.” His voice had dropped into a gravel pit, ragged on his breath. “So how does that s—”

Felicity’s hands snatched at his t-shirt collar and she surged forward, and it was, ironically, a crash as her mouth met his.

But only for a second.

Her lips softened against his immediately and his self-restraint snapped like thread, his own mouth an eager press in return.

She sighed. Her lips parted under his, inviting.

He couldn’t have written it better.

And then she was gone.

She pulled away so abruptly Tommy was left gasping, blinking stupidly with his hands raised and empty.

She scooted backwards like her ass was on wheels, eyes wide and face flushed. They stared at each other, him stunned and confused, her looking almost… guilty as she tucked her lips between her teeth.

“Sorry,” she said finally. “Um. That was just because you are a very good writer and and, um, whew, very , way too good, uh, with words and…” she trailed off, looking away and fanning herself with one hand. “It’s not nice to tease a girl who has only gotten to enjoy,” her hand waved back and forth between them now, “ that vicariously through that very, very good writing for a really, stupidly long time. So. Uh.”

Tommy dropped his hands in his lap, still speechless.

Cringing, Felicity tucked her chin and looked up at him like she was bracing for a blow. “Am I like, super extra fired?”

Sitting up slowly, Tommy swallowed thickly and groped around for his voice. “You don’t actually work for me, you know.”

“Well, okay, technically we kind of both work for the publisher, which I guess makes us more like colleagues, but of the two of us, one of us is very valuable and the other is a highly disposable word-weed-whacker and I am pretty sure your editor would not hesitate to feed me to actual live snakes if the alternative was losing your contract, so…” Felicity frowned at her hands, seeming to suddenly realize that she had been embroidering her nervous run-on in obscure, twisting gestures.

She tucked her hands between her knees and took a fortifying breath before meeting his gaze directly. “I would like to repeat that I am very sorry.”

Tommy blew out an explosive exhale, running a hand over his hair and down his neck, his skin feeling both too hot and too cold. “I have to say this is a first for me. I don’t think anybody has ever kissed me before and then apologized for it like it was a murder.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled. “Do murderers apologize…? Right, totally not the point.”

“Okay, so, first of all,” Tommy started, desperately trying to rally. “You are very not fired. You still don’t work for me and one very nice if very unexpected kiss is absolutely not worth the fines I would have to pay for ending my contract. Which I don’t want to, before you go running away with that one.” He summoned a smile, only slightly stiff around the edges and hung just a little awkwardly. “And you’re still the absolute best sounding board and shit-caller I’ve met in my entire writing career, so please don’t leave me.”

“Really?” Felicity asked, tentative and almost hopeful.

Tommy drove a brutal spike through his ridiculously fluttering heart and softened his smile. “Really. I’m just gonna think of it as really excellent sketch work for a problem scene. Sometimes ‘write what you know’ is bullshit, but sometimes it’s good to get a little practical foundation.”

“Okay.” Felicity released a little nervous laugh. Or maybe it was relieved. “Sketch work. We’ll go with that, then. Considering the alternative is a sexual harassment lawsuit and I don’t actually look that good in orange.”

“I don’t believe that,” Tommy countered, a finger raised, “and I’m pretty sure sexual harassment lawsuits don’t end in federal prison sentences anyway.”

“Well that’s a relief,” she joked. “So, since we solved the problem with, um, the mechanics, should we move on to arguing about pacing, or should we call it a night here?”

He glanced at his watch, more to give him another beat to recover than for any concern about the time. “It’s pretty early yet, so if you’re up for another round of callously deflating my ego, I am prepared to hold back my tears and soldier on.”

“If you’re sure.” Felicity picked up the pages that had at some point dropped to the floor and smiled shyly at him.

It was devastatingly endearing.

With a flourish, he twisted at the waist to snatch a box of Kleenex from the end table and placed it precisely in his lap. “I’m sure. Hit me.”

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