#this is a rough ass draft but i think i am cooking hard with this

[killerkaiju]

A little sneak peek of a Sinister Mark wip thing I'm working on.

Context- Maybe this is me but I feel like Sinister Mark is extremely conflicting when it comes to being in love with someone. I think his version of love heavily muddies the line between love and hate to the point he doesn't know if he wants you alive or dead. But you're all he thinks, it's a gross obsession over you that he's willing to hurt you. My point is I absolutely think he would eat you because he is so consumed by your existence he needs to be rid of you yet keep you his forever in a fucked up way of possession.

Anyway.

Warnings- Cannibalism. You are getting fucking eaten. Please remember this is a wip and will be deleted eventually

[lay-z]

tw: self-shipping; insecurities/self-doubt; handjob; fluff; premature ejaculation; sub!Simon; implied past sexual abuse

Simon gets hard whenever I think of him.

As in, acts of service... gift giving. When I bring him a cuppa whenever he has to work late in his home office or cook his favorite meal at the end of a particularly tough week, or simply when I check in on him, ask him how he's doing.

I don't notice it at first, because stealth is long woven into his DNA, but when he realizes in utter shock that I'm constantly thinking of him without any kind of ulterior motives, he's rock hard within seconds.

No ulterior motives are the key here. Simon is so used to being used, being a weapon, guard, and attack dog that he simply cannot wrap his head around how someone could simply... care about him without wanting anything in return. It's a strange and foreign concept to him.

He thinks me stupid for being so selfless and empathetic. He adores me for being unapologetically me, and he's terrified all the same because someone could easily take advantage of me. But joke's on him, because people have already taken advantage of me for exactly those traits in the past and guess what, Simon? I'll still keep being myself. I'll still care about him, love him.

Simon is shit at initiating intimacy, and so am I, but whenever someone is more scared of something than I am, I rise above my own fears.

He's painfully hard, slit drooling pre into his briefs already, after I bring him a glass of bourbon and rub his tense shoulders briefly while he's watching a football game on TV. I kiss his temple and leave again; leave him to have me-time.

But Simon doesn't want 'me-time' tonight. He wants to feel my soft hands wrapped around his girthy cock, my voice murmuring those tooth-achingly sweet praises into his ear and... Fuck!

His spine arches off the armchair's backrest, his hands ball into fists, massive biceps flexing as he bucks his hips, nearly cumming inside his pants like the pathetic man he deep down feels like he is.

Simon finds me in the bedroom, laying on my stomach on the bed, typing frantically on my phone. He squints his eyes, can see the familiar colours of that Tumblr app in the dim light of the room. I turned on the fairy lights above the headboard, preferring it cosy.

With his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, he approaches silently, sneaking up like the bastard he is.

"Are ya busy, luv?"

The way I flinch and gasp, throwing a glare over my shoulder at him, makes him crack a sly smile.

"I always have time for you... asshole."

He huffs a laugh through his nose and climbs onto the bed, next to me; chest aching with selfish needs and raw affection.

"Writin' yer naughty lil' stories again, eh?" He asks tauntingly, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his hand while his eyes flicker down to look at the curve of my spine, the plumpness of my ass, accentuated by the tight leggings I always wear. Mean. Mean. Mean.

His other hand twitches resting on his hip, long fingers flexing, yearning to touch, to slap, to grope.

I notice how his chest barely moves, breathing too shallow while his deep brown eyes turn black, glowing obsidian in the glow of the fairy lights hanging above. Simon looks possessed, but it doesn't scare me. Quite the opposite.

I save the draft on my phone and put it aside on the bedside table, "You can touch, y'know? I'm all yours."

Simon's jaw clenches, groin tightening painfully at my words. He wants to snap at me to stop saying that, but his cock throbs, leaks, weeps in his pants; throat clicking as he swallows hard.

"Can you ah touch me?" His voice is low, pleading, rough. His pale lashes flutter as he meets my eyes; pale cheeks flushing rapidly.

I immediately perk up like a puppy hearing a command, sitting on my haunches, wagging an invisible tail at the opportunity to serve and it was too fast. His eyes widen, his body tightens, bracing for something bad to happen. He wants to backpedal, to leave at once, but I stay still and wait, wait for him to relax again.

I know how hard it is. I don't like opening up like this and laying myself bare. It's scary and too exciting, too much. The lights had to be off in the beginning of our relationship as we explored each other engulfed in darkness, but Simon was more than alright with it. He is still alright with it, prefers it that way, and I don't push him.

"Yes, I can touch you," I reply softly, "I want to touch you, honey."

As I reach for the switch to turn the fairy lights off, he grabs my wrist and shakes his head, "Leave it on. 's olright."

He rolls onto his back, pulls his hoodie up over his head and exposes his torso; pale skin, massive muscles hidden under a layer of fat, scarred and marked, like cracked marble. I want to bite hard and crack my teeth on it.

My brain short-circuits, words not forming the way I want to, "I like your body a lot." How poetic.

His lips press together, keeping his chuckle inside and I swat the back of my hand against his side, the smack resonating in our quiet bedroom. He bares his crooked teeth in a rare grin and the scars on his cheeks stretch, and he snatches my wrist, pulls me closer to place it on his bulky pec, right above his heart. It beats fast and harshly.

I lean over him, place my other hand on the other relaxed muscle and squeeze the squishy flesh teasingly until they flex and harden beneath my touch, tiny nipples poking against my palms and his grin disappears.

"Bloody tease," he grunts, brows creasing as he gazes up at me, "Ya love my chest tha' much? Pfff " He rolls his eyes.

"Love your cute nips, too."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes even harder back into his skull like the damn brat he truly is.

I lean down and kiss his lips, just a quick peck. It's sweet and a little wet and highly addictive to him. His chest rumbles and his eyes flutter closed.

"More," he grumbles almost begrudgingly.

I hate kissing, it's weird to me but it's bearable with him, because he's less experienced than I am and thankful for each brief brush of our lips.

We kiss clumsily, needing time and time again to find our rhythm, but we find it eventually. Tongues flicking, lips smacking, breath mingling, teeth nibbling. I always giggle at some point, because kissing is just that silly to me.

"Wha'?"

I hum, suppressing a smile against his lips, "Nothing."

My hand sneaks down his buff chest, down the bit of pudge on his stomach until my fingers brush over his dark blonde happy trail. His hips squirm, his muscles tighten and his breath stutters.

"Won't need much to make me... y'know." He admits and exhales a shuddering breath as I pull back to look at him, not quite sure what to make of that statement. Simon thinks of himself a burden, a nuisance.

"I could draw it out," I tell him, running my tongue along my teeth as I ponder our options. I don't feel like having full on sex right now, but I want him to feel good, want to reward him for his behavior tonight. "I could edge you again."

He shakes his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly again, "Nah, no edging, please. Just feel... pent up, because of ya, lovey. Ya care too much 'bout me."

I snort, brows furrowing, "Bullshit. If you like me, you'll stop thinking like that. I like you a lot." Again, pure poetry.

My hand slips into his pants, wretch between the tight fabric until I can pull his fat cock out of its mean confinement. His shaft is already sticky with precum and more is dribbling out of his slit.

"You're a bloody mess, Simon Riley."

Simon groans gruffly, head tilting back, eyes squeezing shut. The sound reverberates against my own chest, tickles my insides.

I use his arousal as lube, give his thick, rigid cock a few slow pumps before I increase the pace, squeezing his warm flesh as I work it. His chest heaves with harsh breaths, moving me on top of him until one arm drapes around my back, anchoring me to him while he digs his meaty fingers into my supple curves.

I watch in awe and utter adoration as his brows furrow, how his lips part and his throat clicks, how he bites his lower lip to keep his noises at bay. He's beautiful.

"Gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, do me the honour."

And it's all it takes for Simon to completely shatter, break and be fixed again in the span of mere seconds while his powerful body quakes beneath me and his cock erupts with his release. Thick, hot gushes of cum coating his lower belly, dripping down my knuckles.

"Good boy," I murmur against his throat, eyes shutting with a breathy sigh, "What a good boy for me."

Simon whines low in his throat, chest heaving as he lets his mammoth hands roam, clinging onto my body as I keep pumping his meaty cock languidly, feeling it soften slowly.

His voice is rough, as he agrees, "Y-Yeah... 'm only yours, luv."

[oftenderweapons]

Sooo, about the ask thing. First off all congratulations I love you and your writing 💜 you seem like such a nice, intelligent and funny person. But was thinking what if namjoon comes home drunk and guilty about something he did and vixen comforts him. Love u💋

Title: Drunk (&) In Love

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Genre: crack, fluff, (also, vaguely allusive)

Rating: 18+ cause THESE TWO ARE A MESS FOR EACH OTHER

Synopsis: apparently Namjoon's stag party went a bit too wild. Mostly since he was drinking guilt away. What could that possibly be about?

Trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, horny!drunk Joon, he clumsily tries to seduce his fianceé in front of yoonjintae (second-hand embarrassment), stressing over vows, mentions of kinky letters, they discuss future and the fear of marrying young and pretty much out of the blue and they be mentioning the idea of having kids. Also, watch Vixen being the caregiver.

Author's note: Thanking the sweetheart @ironicarmy !!! I love exchanging WIPs and Beta reading! It was so fun and I AM LOVING YOUR WIP SO HARD IM GONNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't wait for it to be out so I can fangirl in public LOLOLOL; also thanking @dopesportsoperatorzonk for this request! (I got your feminism ask, I promise I'm almost done, I wanted to have a quite thorough view before replying and I'm still thinking about some stuff, but it'll be readdy super soon!!!)

Here's my masterlist, btw, and enjoy 💜✨

You weren't supposed to wait up for him, but it was like your sixth sense was telling you to do precisely that. And your premonition turned especially accurate once you were met with the sorry sight of Namjoon hanging off Taehyung's and Seokjin's body, grinning as he saw you appear at the door, head to toe smitten, only to turn to his friends with a sneer as he realised you were wearing his favourite silk robe. The deep crimson colour seemed to spark the colour of your hair on fire, and make the lineaments of your face sharper, older, with a kind of allure he still couldn't understand. “Little fox,” he said, going grabby hands while his arms were still around his friends' shoulders.

You tried to keep your expression stern as you looked at the two men literally holding him up. “What is this? Didn't I tell you to bring him home whole and safe?”

Taehyung lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Is this your idea of safe, Seokjin? I expected better.”

“You know him. He did this to himself.” Yoongi spoke neutrally from behind the three.

“Yoongi. Him being a fucking grizzly doesn't mean he can hold his liquor. Bring him in,” you said, freeing the entryway for the triplet coming in, Yoongi in tow.

“We should have brought him to the dorms,” he muttered.

“Dorms?!? Aneeyo…” Namjoon babbled, shaking his head, falling with his ass on the sofa. “No babylove in dorms,” he said with a hiccup. “Hello, little one,” he purred, grabbing your hips and trying to pull you towards him.

You blushed and slapped at his wrists. “I'll deal with you later—”

“Feisty brat,” he spoke sultrily, making Yoongi shake his head while Seokjin and Taehyung snickered before being chastised by your scolding stare.

“How come he's drunk off his ass and the three of you are perfectly okay?”

“He's the one getting married,” Taehyung replied, matter of factly. “And yes, he was the one who swallowed a bottle of hard liquor without even flinching.”

You glance at Namjoon with a scornful expression.

He did some very drunk, very clumsy attempt at a wink that made you inhale as you desperately looked for a crumb of patient left.

“You'd better go home, before I smack you all on the head,” you said, shooing them off.

“You'd have to reach it first,” Taehyung muttered, making Seokjin giggle, Yoongi rubbing his face at the verbal violence that was about to come.

“Kim Taehyung. I may not be tall enough for your royal head, but your girlfriend is my best friend. I won't say much more because I'm sure your friends aren't interested in your ass getting bruised.”

Yoongi smiled smugly at that one.

“Hell yeah…” Namjoon chuckled from the sofa, one hand reaching for the back of your thigh.

“No. Not now.”

“Later then?” He asked with puppy eyes before they turned into a very tipsy version of his intense dragon glance. “You’re so sexy when you’re mean,” he rumbled, a hand reaching for your thigh underneath the robe.

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t stop I will unwife you in this instant.” Still, the other three men in the room were a mess of embarrassed coughing and teasing snorts. “You can all go home right now,” you said with a curt tone.

“You’re not gonna be able to take him to bed by yourself.” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he spoke calmly.

“Mh, Vixen, take me to bed, please,” Namjoon murmured as he tried to seduce you, just as you looked at him and replied, “No need to take him to bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

“See? I told you she found out! She has a sixth sense for this stuff! She can sense it! She can smell fear! I told you!!!” Namjoon babbled, grabbing your wrist. “Little fox...” he cooed, making a fool of himself.

“Go home. All of you. Now.”

Taehyung was the first to leave without even saying goodbye. He knew he would pay for it. Seokjin was the next, saying bye to Namjoon very briefly before bowing to you — just slightly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, goodnight,” he apologised, making his way out.

“Yoongi?”

He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. Really. I— I didn’t do my job.”

You shook your head. “This is a mess I’ll have to deal with.”

“You know you’ll kind of have to deal with him for the rest of your life, right?” Yoongi looked at Namjoon, head in his hands, fingers tugging at it nervously.

You followed his gaze, meeting Namjoon in the poorest of states. “I know. He’s my business now. Go.”

Yoongi left without much resistance after that, the door of your apartment finally shutting for good.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, staring up at you as you stood before him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “What happened, Joonie bear?”

He shook his head, lip going wobbly. “I’m so sorry!” he babbled again, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, baby…” you managed to whisper before he dove for your lap, burying his face there. “What happened, love?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing’s gonna change the fact that I love you, big bear.” You caressed his hair as his voice confessed, half-muffled against your tummy.

“I sneaked a look at the dress.” You could hear his words coming out from a pout.

“Joonie—”

“Please don’t unwife me!” He cried out, his voice way too high pitched. “I don’t want to sleep alone ever.” He hugged your legs and held you closer. “I want to sleep next to you until I die.” He got even more emotional as he went on. “I want you to always pet my hair and tell me you’re proud of me and cook for me and be my sweetheart and my babylove and my little fox forever, even when we’re old and I get bald.”

You smiled and invited him to let go of your legs before sitting down, your legs slightly parted laying across the sofa. “Come here, big bear,” you said, patting your stomach. He did as he was told, laying his head below your chest and stretching his long body all over the seat. He struggled a little, his sense of balance temporarily worse than usual. “Soon I’ll be lawfully your bride. Forever. We’re almost there, honey. Just a week.”

He nodded.

“And then I’ll be your little fox until I’m nothing but ashes. And then some,” you reassured him, petting his lovely head, digging your fingers into the knots in his upper back.

“Writing the vows was so difficult.”

“I know baby,” you kept rubbing at his trapezoi until he released a relieved grunt. “I know that must have been really stressful for you.”

“I had to rewrite them sixteen times. Sixteen!” His hand absentmindedly reached your thigh and started rubbing small circles there. “Everytime, they were too long, or too cliché, or something I just couldn’t read in public because you know our letters.”

“I know our letters,” you confirmed, thinking about his messy handwriting on cheap paper, and entire sheets of words that he sent you everytime something important happened, everytime he had to travel for his job, everytime he just needed to make love to you on a deeper level. And then, thinking of your replies, always heartfelt, emotional, with fine calligraphy on expensive ivory sheets often marred with rough spots where a tear fell — most of the time because of joy and gratitude and obliterating, overwhelming love. “Will you read to me the other sixteen versions too, once we’re alone?”

He nodded. “I’ll read them all. I’ll write new ones every day. Small, simple, absolutely mundane. Stuff like, ‘I’ll do the dishes tonight’, or ‘Let’s go out for dinner’, or ‘I wanna grow old with you’ or ‘I don’t wanna watch that porn tonight, let’s just stare into each other’s eyes while naked and have the best tantric sex ever performed’.”

You chuckled and placed your hand atop of his. “I like the last one.”

“But I couldn’t say it in front of your parents, therefore I couldn’t write it in our vows.” He scoffed and shook his head before planting it between your breasts, nosing at the lapels of the robe until he could kiss your naked skin.

“I might have written something along those lines in one of my drafts.” Having this conversation with Namjoon while he was halfway drunk off his ass was extremely entertaining; however, you felt sad at the possibility of him not remembering this moment.

“What else did you write in that draft?” He closed his eyes, waiting for your soft voice to calm him down.

You smiled and slightly teared up at the thought, his chin propped on your chest, one of his thumbs reaching out to dry up a tear. “I wrote that I hope I get to make you smile every day and see that insanely cute and sexy dimple of yours every morning after you wake up. And I want to be the only one listening to your deep bedroom voice waking me up. And I want to listen to you as you talk to our children. I wanna hear all the stories, and watch your smile shine on their faces.”

Namjoon hid his face against your chest, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.

“I want them to have your eyes. I want to see your complete wonder as they learn about the world, as you teach them about the world in that grand and beautiful way you see it.” You sniffled and he cupped your face, kissing your lips so slowly, the heavy tang of liquor barely tainting the moment.

“I want to walk by your side, until we’re too tired to walk and watch time pass by, without worries, without haste. I don’t care where we’re walking because you were the place I was destined to be.”

Namjoon couldn’t explain tenderness or love or devotion or faith as deep as the ones he felt for you. He probably wasn’t skilled or trained enough.

“I know we’re young. I know this is more of a bet than an actual marriage. I’ve seen people who have been together for years part ways so easily and I don’t even know why you said yes to me. Sometimes I doubt I’m deserving and I see in how many ways I’m lacking and I ask myself, 'why the hell did she say yes to me?' ” He snickered sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have said yes to myself.”

You shook your head and kissed his brow.

“But I’ve been with other people and you have too and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like this will take a lot of effort but then I hear you laugh, I hear you calling my name and I know, I can feel that that’s what it is supposed to sound like.”

You smiled at him, fixing your position so he could lay on you without worrying about smashing your body.

“I’m so confused and so grateful for this. It’s like… Suddenly winning the lottery. One minute you’re just a person and next you realise you’re going to be a husband. And you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, how your life is going to change, but with you I’m not scared.” He chuckled. “Well, I am. But you make me braver than my fears. And I know I could lose you any day. I could fuck up, or we could just drift apart or something. But any moment spent with you is bigger. It’s better and brighter.”

By now you were a teary mess, face drenched in tears, his arms around your torso as he held onto you. “My soul has found a home in you and I will cherish it. I’ll take care of that home. I’ll make sure nothing damages it. I’ll help you work on it if you want to change it. I will make more room when our family gets bigger. I will fix it when I can. I’ll stay by your side when I’m not skilled enough to heal you. To fix you.” He sniffled, voice hollow and weak as he spoke through a lump in his throat. “And I’ll leave if you ever ask me to.”

You shook your head and hugged him, letting him sob in your arms. “I hope I never lose you.”

“Don’t be a silly bear,” you comforted him, lulling him, holding him close to your heart. “I’ll be your bride. Your spouse. Your wife.” You kissed his head. “And your home. Your relief. Your dirty, secret affair. Your devoted companion too. Your goddess and your toy. I’ll be your friend. And the mother of your children, when we want to.”

God, if he wanted to… But first, he needed to enjoy having you all to himself for a couple more years. Just to make sure you hadn’t been both bold and immature and absolutely stupid about getting married almost two years after meeting for the first time.

“So I’m not getting unwifed for sneaking a peek at the dress?”

You shook your head. “It looks completely different once worn.”

“Really?” His expression exploded with euphoria.

You smiled. “Really.”

His drunken grin was back. “So I’m gonna sleep on the bed right?”

You acted as if you were even thinking about it. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’m soberer now.”

“And you embarrassed me in front of your friends,” you reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not my fault my wifey’s so hot,” he said with a slightly more accomplished wink.

“Not your wifey yet,” you reminded him.

He tutted. “Just a matter of days.” He kissed your sweet spot, on the side of your neck. “It’s only a technicality.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “A technicality, you say?”

He nodded and held you tighter.

“This technicality could still leave you at the altar, waiting,” you teased.

“Come on, I want to sleep next to you.” He kissed your cheek. “On our bed.” He kissed you again. “Where we’ll be making so many babies.”

“Stop right there, mister.” You placed a finger against his plush lips before you shook your head no. “No babies for a few years. I want you all mine, hubby.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against your chest bone. “Okay, fine, but I just meant hypothetically. You know, for practice.”

“Yeah, I think I could use some practice. I want to be perfect at it.”

He smiled and kissed your nose. If only she knew how perfect she is, he thought, haphazardly sitting up and waiting for you to help him on his feet, the whole discourse sobering him up enough that he managed to sit on the bench in the bathroom as you washed his face and brushed his teeth, as you undressed him and helped him in the shower, undressing and joining him, his body too tired and unstable to initiate anything fancy.

And then you towelled him up, rubbing body lotion on his always-too-dry legs before helping him in his boxers.

And through the process, he understood how it was that you loved him so much anytime he got you ready for bed. He should let you do this more often. Especially when he wasn’t exhausted or drunk, so he could properly enjoy being cuddled and fondled and babied.

What he didn’t expect was for it to feel so comfortable when you slid up against his back on the bed, spooning his ridiculously large body with your smaller one. “Sleep tight, big bear,” you said before kissing his nape. “Eight more sleeps and we’ll be married.”

He smiled. “Goodnight, little fox.” And with that, he caught your hand in his and fell asleep.

[artificialqueens]

(Treat Me Nice) Never Let Me Go, 15/15 (Branjie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[ chapter 15. pretty woman ]

“Darryl is out front with the limousine,” Nina says, handing the AmEx card back. “Come again soon.”

They’ve been friends for a long time, and yet they always let the professional pretenses slide up again. Brooke is starting to think it’s a defence mechanism for her, so she squeezes Nina’s hand in a way that tries to convey love and gratitude and the knowledge that she can be relied on.

They nod at each other before Brooke turns to the door, and Nina may or may not watch her walk away. Brooke would too - her ass looks fantastic in the slacks.

[ pretty woman au ]

A/N - I genuinely cannot believe this is over. I’ve been writing it for 14 months, posting it for 11 and it’s become an integral part of who I am on this platform. I’m not being dramatic here - it’s been formative in my writing and i’m so proud of writing an almost 35K fic. Thank you to Frey for being here the whole time and loving it even when I found it hard to love and thank you all for sticking around. Please tell me what you think of it - what you’ve thought the whole time and stick around to see what i’ll come up with next.

I love you all! <3

*

Vanessa stands in the lobby. She wonders if she looks as lost as she feels - just standing there - waiting for someone to call her out or tell her to leave or ask her to stay. She holds her bags with purpose, though she’s not sure what that is yet. Luckily, Nina seems to think she looks pretty lost too, and she stands next to her, just watching the world keep turning outside the hotel entrance.

Vanessa looks at her and smiles. “Hey Nina.” Her voice is light, but it’s tired.

“Miss Vanessa,” Nina acknowledges, still staring straight ahead, arms clasped in front of her - twiddling her wedding band.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” Vanessa tells her, and Nina shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips. The brunette has been a nuisance, but she is a nuisance that will be missed dearly.

“I gather you’re not accompanying Miss Hytes back to Canada, then?” Nina asks, her tone bordering on curious, but then again - that would be quite uncouth.

“Come on, Nins,” Vanessa chuckles, “you and me live in the real world… most of the time.” Nina has to laugh at that, and it’s polite, but still manages to reverberate around Vanessa’s heart. They sigh in unison and Vanessa looks towards the outside once more.

Nina follows her gaze to the taxi station. “Have you arranged for transportation?” Vanessa shakes her head, and so she adds, “allow me,” before pacing back to the desk for a minute or so.

When she returns, she has Darryl at her heel. “Darryl,” she addresses, and it makes Vanessa smile to see what a boss bitch Nina is.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Please, take Miss Vanessa anywhere she wishes to go.” Darryl nods compliantly and stands back while the two women say their goodbyes. It’s bittersweet, Nina is the closest thing to a Mama that Vanessa has had since she moved to California (except maybe Trixie, but Trixie would kill her if she ever said it). “It’s been a pleasure,” she tells Vanessa with a small smile.

Vanessa wants to drop all her bags and hug her, but she refrains, nodding politely.

“See you around, Nina.”

*

Brooke wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. It shouldn’t shock her, the feeling of the cool linens on the other side of the mattress, she’s the one who made Vanessa leave - at least that’s what she’s telling herself.

The idea that Vanessa left on her own hurts a little more, that she wouldn’t stay.

She packs quickly - portable radio and suits and lucky watch all put away with speed, because she feels this urge to get out. She needs air, space, somewhere less reminding of Vanessa.

She left her bodysuit from the first night. It must have fallen down in the wardrobe and she didn’t check the floor - Brooke wants to laugh at the rookie mistake, but it smells like cigarettes and her, and it makes her want to cry.

Courtney knocks with a patient smile, and Brooke just lets her in to grab the cases.

“Is this all?” She asks.

Brooke nods. “Just drop it downstairs, thanks.”

She takes one last sweeping look around the room, hands stuffed in the pockets of her navy slacks. She sighs, looking to the clear door of the mini fridge that reminds her to pay the room service tab before she leaves. Stalking over to it, she pulls out a non-alcoholic beer and takes it onto the balcony, yearning for something that reminds her of Vanessa. She stands, elbows propped on the hard concrete, looking over Los Angeles for longer that she would admit. For the first time she might just miss it - miss her.

When she finishes the beer, she places it on the side board and leaves, closing the door softly. She doesn’t like to slam doors - likes the idea that she can always open them again and go back. She doesn’t like hard endings. She doesn’t like a definite finish.

*

Vanessa pulls herself up so she’s sitting on the counter of the kitchen she shares with Silky. It’s her spot - the one she would occupy while Silky cooked (or burnt things and then ordered take out). Silky would usually swat at her to get down, tell her she was spoiling the work surface by sticking her ass on it, but Vanessa would just smile sweetly and stick her tongue out, drinking whatever cheap liquor they’d bought and tasting whatever horrible concoction Silky would mix up.

She misses those days. They were the hard kind of easy, but everything felt worth it. Silky raises an eyebrow at her, hand resting on a tatty suitcase.

“Chicago ain’t that great, you know,” Vanessa tells her longingly. “It’s cold and foggy and the winters will suck.” Silky just chuckles at her pout, pulling one of the kitchen chairs until she is sat opposite Vanessa.

“I need to do this, Ness,” she tells her, and it’s the most real and quiet and contemplative Vanessa has ever seen her. “I’ll wear a sweater, don’t you worry.”

Vanessa huffs. “What are you gonna do there?” She complains, not caring how petulant she sounds.

“Get a job? Finish high school?” Silky offers up, but she’s smiling so much that Vanessa finds it hard not to smile with her. “I’ll miss you, but I need to get out and you gave me the means.”

“So it’s my fault?” Vanessa quips, and Silky hits her thigh playfully. “I’ll miss you too,” she adds softly. She jumps off the counter and moves to rummage around in the bags she’s yet to upack. She finds an envelope and takes a wad of cash from it, holding it out in front of her in a motion for Silky to grab it.

“What’s this?”

“The Brooke Lynn Hytes Scholarship fund. We think you got a lot of potential Silky Ganache.” Silky mock salutes her, and they just look at eachother quietly for a minute.

“I’ll miss you,” Vanessa repeats, eyes watery.

“I’ll see you again, Vanessa Hytes.”

“Bitch.”

“I gotta split. Goodbyes make me weep.”

Vanessa hugs her goodbye and then she’s gone, and Vanessa is all alone in the apartment with it’s creaky water pipes and sticky counters. The draft from the window chills her ankles, and she tries not to cry as she makes a cup of tea and sips it by the fire escape.

*

Brooke greets Nina with a warm smile that exudes gratitude. She rests her hands on the front desk, elbows locked so she can stretch her back from it’s permanent hunch. She misses the feeling of confidence she used to have when she stood tall and didn’t feel like there was something she was missing. She exhales a long breath through her nose and tries to regain the regularity in the beating of her heart.

“Miss Hytes,” Nina greets to keep up appearances.

“Nina,” Brooke replies, because she is finding more and more of a disdain for the politics of politeness. “Do you have any messages for me?” It’s a dance they do every morning she stays there, and Nina doesn’t even have to wait to be asked to be searching for it.

She shakes her head softly. “I’m afraid not.” She takes Brooke’s AmEx card and swipes it for her to clear all the tabs. “Will you be needing a car to the airport?”

Brooke nods. “Darryl?” She asks, and Nina calls for him. He appears behind Brooke in a matter of moments, grabbing the handles of her cases in a move to carry them to the car.

“Darryl took Vanessa home yesterday,” Nina smiles as she tells Brooke - a twinkle in her eye, and Brooke wants to call out her interfering, but she just scrunches her nose instead. “May I, Brooke?”

Brooke nods apprehensively, waiting to see what Nina will say. “It must be difficult to let go of something so beautiful.”

A smile flutters across Brooke’s face before she can stop it - her pale red lips twisting upwards. Her eyes light up and her cheeks flush.

“It’s horrible.” She lets herself admit as if they were alone in a quiet room and she was telling a deep and dark secret - voice cracking uncomfortably.

“I hope you find her again,” Nina tells her earnestly - twisting the band on her finger like a lifeline. Brooke can connect the dots - read the suggestion Nina is giving her like a newspaper, and for the first time, she is receptive to it. Receptive to the idea that Vanessa might be her Monét.

“Darryl is out front with the limousine,” Nina says, handing the AmEx card back. “Come again soon.”

They’ve been friends for a long time, and yet they always let the professional pretenses slide up again. Brooke is starting to think it’s a defence mechanism for her, so she squeezes Nina’s hand in a way that tries to convey love and gratitude and the knowledge that she can be relied on.

They nod at each other before Brooke turns to the door, and Nina may or may not watch her walk away. Brooke would too - her ass looks fantastic in the slacks.

She slides into the back seat of the limo with a sigh, catching Darryl’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “LAX,” she tells him, but her voice must waiver, because Darryl squints at her.

“You sure, Ma’am?”

She sighs painfully and shakes her head, fingers raking through her blonde hair in a way that’s just rough enough to ground her.

“No. Take me to a flower shop,” she sounds definite.

*

The chatter through the neighbourhood is warm and friendly - a mixture of accents and dialects floating in the breeze like cherry blossoms, scattering on the pavement. Two boys play football underneath one of the fire escapes. They take turns kicking it in their ratty trainers, cheering when one can get it into the dumpster across the street. Cars honk, but it’s not angry.

There is a street vendor selling churros and honey peanuts, and the smell wafts down the street till the air feels sticky from something other than the heat.

The buildings are yellowed - a pale shade of ochre, peeling in areas to expose solid bricks, and fire escapes wind up the outsides of all the buildings - six or seven storeys high. Someone is playing country music out of their open window.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, french classical music winds its way through the buildings. It’s so achingly familiar to Vanessa that she pulls her attention away from Fantasia on the TV and sticks her head out of her open window, chuckling as she sees her neighbours relaxing on their fire escapes. A chatter amasses with the approaching music, talk of a limo that spreads faster than the car can drive, and Vanessa finds her heart catching in her throat as she strains her neck to see further down the street. And then it appears.

The sun roof of the limo is open, and Darryl is driving painfully slowly, because Brooke is standing on the back seat, poking out of the hole in the roof from her waist up. Her hair looks remarkably well kept, considering both the sticky heat and the slight breeze that feel like they are fighting each other. She has one hand braced against the roof, and the other is waving a bouquet of roses the same colour as Vanessa’s dress for the ballet was. All of the windows of the car are open and Darryl has the music switch from french classical to an orchestral version of the Disney theme tune.

Vanessa wants to cry.

“Princess Vanessa!” Brooke calls out, her stupid blue eyes wide and joyful before they disappear under the roof. The back door opens, and Vanessa clasps her hands to her mouth to choke back either a sob or a laugh. She’s not quite sure.

Brooke’s smile only falters when she steps out of the car and realises just how high up Vanessa’s apartment is, gulping so visibly that Vanessa actually does laugh.

“You’re making it awfully hard to rescue you,” Brooke calls up, and Vanessa gives an exaggerated shrug.

“It’s cheap with a nice view,” she yells back, grinning so widely it hurts.

She watches as Brooke seems to toy with a couple of ideas, looking between the bouquet in her hand and the precarious looking stairs. She even appears to contemplate throwing the flowers, but Vanessa shakes her head violently, and Brooke comes to her senses.

She places the plastic wrapped roses between her teeth - the bouquet barely fitting - and begins climbing, hands gripping the rails with a death grip.

“They’re perfectly safe,” Vanessa shouts down to tease her, and Brooke goes to flip her middle finger up, but can barely remove her hand from the rail. She may have conquered her fear of the stone balcony with it’s high wall, but she’s not quite ready for the barely there metal grating.

It takes an awfully long time for Brooke to reach her, but Vanessa is laughing the whole time - watching her tall, gorgeous blonde try and climb the fire escape like it’s a waterslide and she’s going the wrong way. When she gets there, Vanessa grabs the bouquet out of Brooke’s mouth, throwing it through the open window.

And then she kisses her, and she’s pretty sure the world could end and she would be none the wiser.

When Brooke pulls away, she keeps her face mere inches away. “What happens once the knight rescues the princess?” She asks, breathlessly.

Vanessa smiles, eyes twinkling with happiness. “She saves her back.”

[ fin ]

[theofficefantasyfootball]

WEEK 2 - Wrap Up

Love Hurts!

Well guys.  This week in our league the #1 and #2 draft picks went down.  Saquon Barkley is out for the season and McCaffrey is out 4-6 weeks (which really means 8 weeks)  And even then we all know he won’t really be the same CMC - he’s damaged goods.  Guys like Scott and Brett are probably in a real sad place right now.  Dealing with the loss of their most beloved players and also dealing with a loss for the week.  It’s a lot to take in so if you have time to reach out and let them know you are thinking of them I know that they will appreciate it.  Hang in there guys - there are only 11 more week until playoffs and I believe you will be able to find great replacements for these players that consistently put up 20-30 points each week!

BOOMER SOONER vs TREE HUGGER

I didn’t think we would be here, I really didn’t.  I am just being honest.  Stu Jones is 2-0.  He took down Scott Krippayne (Tree Huggers)  this week - who as mentioned above lost Barkley early in the game and also was without Kittle this week.  Rough, rough, rough. 

Stu sat Edelman, Fournette and Goff but it didn’t matter -  because he was still able to put up 114 points to give him the win. 

Listen, it’s early...and this week proved to all of us that you never know what is around the corner for your star players and you have to accept that.  But, Stu being undefeated has given me some pause - I mean, can he keep it up when he faces the FUNK GUY in week 3?  Scott, I am sure you don’t care about 1 stupid loss...plus your Seahawks took care of business - you will be fine right?   There’s always a silver lining - remember that!

LONG LEFT BALLERS vs FUNK GUY

Wow!  What a...battle these two had...huh!?!?!  Talk about a disappointing day for Bebo to put up 139.44 points and lose?  Right?  Yikes!  Dana, who earlier this week was texting me that his team sucks - managed to put up nearly 170 points to take down Bebo and become the champion of this match up.  Just a rock hard win for Dana.  Highlights?  You want highlights?  Sure - how about Aaron Jones with 46, Mahomes with 31, Mike Evans with 21 and Jonnu Smith with 20.  Pretty damn good.  Bebo, sorry man...that’s a tough loss.   All you can do is make adjustments, keep working it and move on from this rough start.  Bebo moved to 0-2 and Dana to 1-1.  Great win Dana.

MR. AWESOME vs TuPADRE

Everyone knows that Andy and Gabe are the best of friends so fantasy footaball is not really a competition thing between the two of them.  I know in my heart that is the case, especially with Gabe recovering in the hospital still - but I have to admit that I have been secretly hoping that Gabe will pull out a few wins these first few weeks just so when he is able to re-engage he isn’t totally out  for the season.  But, TuPadre - just like Brett Rutledge last week - went a head and took advantage of the match up and grabbed a win. 

In all seriousness - I want to let everyone know that Gabe continues to improve.  It is going to be a long process but we are all hoping he will return fully and remind us all why he is named Mr. Awesome. 

Gully moves to 1-1...Gabe to 0-2 but I feel a win coming on when he faces the Moose in week 3.

U SUCK vs TRADE WITH ME

What a crazy wonderful surprise to beat Brett Rutledge in week 2!  I have to be honest - knowing that I was going up against Tom Brady, (I was sure would be out to prove something after losing in week 1), CMC, Kelce and kind of expecting Adrian Peterson to get more than he actually did...I thought it was going to be a blood bath.  Especially after Elliott and Dak started out with a pair of fumbles to send me into negative digits right away...but it all worked out in the end.  I had a good Dallas Cowboys offensive attack as they spent the entire game trying to come back from the dead and a few 58 yard kicks from Butker and that’s all it really took!  Thanks Brett for not ruining my Sunday and allowing me to get a win!  Sorry about CMC.  He was solid and even played through the hurt for me last week but it just must not be your year.  At least you have a lot of RB’s on your bench to rotate in!

LANAKILA vs BACKDOOR BANDITS

Ole Kyle had a little hiccup this week in his quest to win another championship.  I guess what I am trying to say as nice as I can is that the backdoor bandits took one up the ass.  He lost. 

Kyle has been playing a lot of golf lately....he is even building a small compound on a swanky golf course in Little Rock.  This gif reminded me of him this week....so close to pulling it off and then just like that - it’s all over. 

Lanakila needed a win.  Sure, we can all say things like, “it’s a long season” or “it’s early, so much can happen” but no one wants to be without a win.  And Cliff is now 1-1 and primed to keep moving up.  Both of these guys escaped the week without any major injuries or players out for the season...so expect them both to keep competitive in the next few weeks.

MOOSE ON THE LOOSE vs HOWARD

If there is anything i know about the Moose it’s how he loves to have his games come down to Monday Night.  He LOVES the excitement.   And heading into this one - Rob was up 5 points and all left to play were Josh Jacobs (Moose) and Jared Cook  (Howard). 

Overall the game was a good one - with the Saints taking an early lead and the Raiders coming back to tie at the half.  Then in the 3rd quarter the Raiders took a big lead.  Rob held the lead but every now and then the Moose would be in position to take over the lead...like Jacobs trying 3 times on the 1 and not getting in...stuff like that. 

With 5 min left the Moose was still down 3.62 points.  When they Raiders got the ball back - they were just trying to kill clock so they were running it with Jacobs.  Mitch was desperately texting me “FEED HIM!!!” but after the possession leading into the two kin warning he was still down 1.92 and they were now handing off to Booker and Richard.  I just envision Mitch going crazy!  Why not Jacobs he was probably saying....

I heard nothing from Rob.  He’s a 3 time champion...he knows what he’s doing...steady, solid...sure of himself. 

As the clock worked it’s way to 1:07 the Raiders lined up for a field goal to try and close out the game - from 54 yards - it was good!  No way the Raiders need to take the field again - so Josh Jacobs night is over...and so is the Moose.

Good win Howard.  Man you are good at this fantasy football thing!

SURVIVOR

Everyone moves on...couple of close games with the Titans and the Chiefs but everyone that was still alive - will get another chance in week 3.

HIGH POINT WINNER

So, this weeks high point winner is Dana Cappillino with 169.38 points.  A few of you made female option suggestions for the High Point Image Prize and Dana suggested ju Gal Gadot (Wonder Woman).  I am not going to constantly go with suggestions but I looked over his suggestion and from my research it looks like Gal is an athlete after all so she does qualify.  I do take this seriously and will not allow non-athletic women into the club.  Congrats Dana.  $20 win...and Gal Gadot

[miss-pearlescent]

Friends, More or Less (M)

Themes: older brother’s best friend, morning after, face sitting (⊙ω⊙✿)

Flipping over to your side, you touch the sheets spread out before you.

Empty and cold.

You couldn’t help but sigh a little as you pushed yourself out of bed, feeling a dull ache...everywhere.

So maybe you’d been flirting with your older brother’s best friend recently. And maybe you had failed to correct him when he showed up to play video games with your brother even though you knew their little play date was actually next Thursday.

And maybe, while your brother was out of town, you invited his best friend into your bed.

You didn’t regret it, you thought as you brushed your teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. Last night was hands down the most amazing sex you’d ever had.

Jongin wasn’t a guy you knew too well, despite how many times he had come over to the apartment that you and your brother rented. You just knew he liked to play video games and read manga. You also knew he was hot beyond words.

He was tall and his shoulders were so broad. And he was always so serious. One time, he had walked into the kitchen while you were cooking and then suddenly there seemed to be a lack of oxygen as you blubbered something about chicken nuggets and then ran out.

Last night went much smoother. He made you equally breathless but never nervous. Both of you knew it was a fling and so you took it in stride. Instead of worrying about disappointing him in bed, you made the most of it by letting him know exactly where and how to touch you.

No regrets, even as you struggled to stand up straight. Every muscle was telling you to go back to bed, but you had a full day ahead of you.

The most apparent ache was the one between your legs. It didn’t go away even with a hot shower. Curse him and his agile hips.

You honestly had thought he would be the kind of guy to finish things quickly. But as you reached orgasm after orgasm, that assumption was proved wrong. He was insatiable once you got him going.

You groaned and shut off the water. The ache between your legs was turning into a totally different kind of ache.

There was no point in thinking upon it any longer. He left your bed without you noticing and the message was clear: nothing had happened between the two of you.

Yeah, it hurt. You knew it was a one-time-deal but there was a small part inside you that wished you weren’t just his friend’s little sister. You didn’t need a full-on relationship right away, but continuing the crazy sex for a little while would be nice.

You rolled your eyes at yourself when you noticed there was no towel on the rack. Your brain was obviously muddled from last night.

Stop thinking about him.

You opened the door to your bedroom and headed to the closet at the other side in search of a fresh towel. There had to be one in here somewhere.

A throat cleared behind you.

Every cell in your body turned cold and hot all at once.

No way. This was so embarrassing.

Shakily, you turned around and saw Jongin in only his jeans, sitting on the floor petting your cat on his lap.

And here you stood, ass naked.

“Hi.” You gave a nervous laugh and tried to cover yourself with your hands. It was futile, but there was no choice. “You’re still here.” Nice one, Captain Obvious.

Behind him, sitting on your bed, was your bath towel. You eyed it suspiciously, wondering if your towel set this up.

Jongin looked down, stroking another hand down Fifi’s back. “She was scratching the door at 8 in the morning so I gave her a bit to eat.” You gave your cat the stink eye, too, even as she stretched out comfortably in Jongin’s lap.

“Ah, thanks,” you drawled. “Could you, um, hand me that towel behind you?”

His curious gaze flickered up between you and the towel. “Why?” he asked.

You gave him an incredulous look. “Why? Because I’m naked?”

“I saw it all yesterday,” he said with a shrug.

“But that’s different.” You wanted to melt to the floor in embarrassment. “Please, Jongin.” You crossed your legs and held out a hand.

After a moment, he reached behind him and grabbed the towel. You went to take it from him but he held on. “Are we still good?”

Your words got caught in your throat. “G-good? What do you mean?”

“We had sex last night.” He tugged on the towel, catching you off guard and making you land on your knees in front of him. He kept his eyes on your face even though your boobs were pointing right at him. “Are we still good?”

“Of course we are!” you sputtered, holding the towel uselessly in front of you to give you some sort of modesty. “I’m not kicking you out if that’s what you’re asking.”

He stared at you for a second before letting you take the entire towel. It was pointless because you still felt exposed under his stare despite being covered. “I want to know if things changed between us.”

You couldn’t look at him. “There was nothing to change.” Which was the truth. The two of you barely knew each other before last night, and you still barely knew each other this morning.

He tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to land on him. “I am your big brother’s best friend, so you’re going to have to take the reins here. If you want to be friends, you tell me. If you want a fuck buddy, you tell me too.”

“A f-fuck buddy?” You just knew your whole body was turning red.

Jongin nodded, a little smirk on his face. “You heard me correctly.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again. Then opened it one more time. “What if I want both?” you said, licking your lips.

His gaze followed your tongue and his grin widened. “Then we’ll just have to give you what you want.”

Fifi leapt to the side as Jongin rolled out onto his back on the hardwood floor.

“What are we doing?” you asked, trying not to salivate over the hard planes of his sculpted chest.

“Sit on me,” he said nonchalantly.

“Sit?” You blinked, trying to make sense of this situation. “Where?”

Jongin put his hands behind his head. “Wherever you want.”

You decided his rock hard abs were the safest bet, and you swung your leg over his waist, clutching your towel while straddling him.

He pushed down on your thigh so your core was pressed flush against his hot skin. His grin never disappeared as he watched you, kneading your legs with his thumbs.

“So,” he began, “what’s your favourite colour?”

The question was so odd that you forgot all the names of the colours. “E-excuse me?”

You felt his body shake underneath you with his little chuckle. “Mine’s blue. What’s yours?” His fingers skirted underneath the towel, squeezing your backside.

“I guess it’s red?” You weren’t exactly sure what you were talking about, especially when he began tugging at your hips so they rocked back and forth along the ridges of his stomach. “Or maybe pink when I feel like it.”

You tried to concentrate on his next question though his teasing gaze revealed he knew exactly how muddled he made you. “Cute. So what’s your favourite food, then?”

“My favourite food...” you trailed off as his thumb skated dangerously close to your core. You looked down and saw that you were leaving a trail of wetness from his chest to his belly button. “My favourite food is chocolate,” you replied breathlessly.

“Mm, sweet. I want to have a taste.” He cupped your bottom and lifted it, pushing you up so you had to support yourself with your hands. “Mine is fried chicken.”

You let out a breathy laugh at his ridiculous answer, but it got cut short when he slid down so he could look directly up at your sex.

“Fried chicken?” you squeaked out.

“Yup. Hot and juicy fried chicken.” He groaned as he craned his neck to lick one side of your slit. “Come here. I could eat it all day.”

You felt the pressure of his hands pushing your thighs down, but you resisted. “Jongin, no.” You pushed back at him even as he kissed your inner thigh. “I’m going to suffocate you.”

His grip tightened. “Let me handle the breathing.” He forced you down on his mouth, and you felt his hot tongue pierce into your core immediately. He licked and sucked, his mouth making lewd noises as he held you in place for his onslaught.

Already achy and sensitive from last night, you came right away.

You fell forward from the force of the release and thought to crawl away, but, with a growl, Jongin’s nails pressed into your ass, keeping you right where he wanted you.

You cried out as he sucked on your throbbing clit, wringing out another climax as you rocked your hips on his beautiful face. It felt sinful to smear your wetness on something so perfect, but that just made it hotter.

“Oh, Jongin,” you gasped, shaking as another climax threatened to crest over.

His hands sneaked up the towel, running along your sides before finding your nipples.

He pinched, hard.

You screamed, thrown over the edge, and lifted your hips out of the way while you had the chance.

Jongin followed, rolling the two of you over until you were suddenly flat on your back and he wedged himself between your legs, cradling the back of your head with his strong hands against the hardwood floor.

“We’re out of condoms so I’m going to fuck you like this,” he rasped, rubbing the rough fly of his denim against you. He chuckled at the way your eyes rolled back. “You like that?”

“Last one,” you muttered. “Or else I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t do that,” he teased and kissed the tip of your nose. He pumped his hips, letting the texture of denim give you a whole new sensation. “There’s breakfast and coffee waiting for you in the kitchen.”

---

This was just something quick I whipped up after going through my drafts. I usually find the sibling’s-best-friend trope to be a little weird but I decided to give it a try because I loooove trying out random tropes lol the story started going in a weird direction with that fried chicken nonsense, but whatever LMAO I hope you guys enjoyed!

[uni-life-tips]

Tackling Unproductivity

It's okay to feel unproductive and useless etc.

As a student there are going to be days where it feels like you just can't do anything right. You start the day by spilling your coffee all over something important, you're late to class or go to the wrong room or get all the way there only to hear that class is cancelled and you could/should have slept in etc. Most of all, there are going to be days where you set out to be productive and get your homework done...and none of that happens and you feel useless.

This happens to everyone and getting frustrated at yourself isn't going to do you any favors.

In most of my upper-year semesters this happened often. I'd get out from my last class of the week and tell myself I'm totally going to be productive. I make a list of all the assignments and readings I have to complete and prioritize them. Then I get home and think "I've been in-class all week. Time to relax. I'll get started on that list bright and early tomorrow morning". Then I start watching a movie or something and I can't enjoy it 'cuz I'm constantly thinking "hey...you need to do your homework". So I end up trying to do my homework (failing due to lack of motivation) and I end up just refreshing Youtube about 50+ times (I wish I were exaggerating) and browsing the "Recommended" videos for about 4 hours. Again, I wish I were exaggerating but this is literally how my days are in Uni and I hate it.

We've been discussing webpage designs in some of my classes and we've learned that webpages with endless scrolling or pages that show you something new each time you refresh are running on game/gambling theories. People get addicted to the chance of something interesting happening with the next one. If you just keep scrolling you'll eventually find something interesting; if I just refresh Youtube again I'll find something interesting. Sound's kinda harmless...right? Well, replace "refresh" with "put in another quarter" and "Youtube" with "slot machine". Ta-Dah! This is how web-pages capitalize on addictive personalities and whatever else. This is why it's so freaking hard for me to just get off of Youtube and be productive. Next thing I know it's Monday, I've got to get to class, I have done absolutely none of my assignments or readings, but I now know how to wash and butcher 20 different fish for sashimi...as if I'm going to be able to get a fish on a student-budget living inland.

I've had entire weeks/months of this. This is where "good stress" comes in. I wouldn't have finished a draft of my paper if the deadline weren't 9 hours from the time I started. Yeah, I was supposed to start a month ago but I gave into the trap of constantly refreshing Youtube.

There's no easy answer and relying on deadlines to light a fire under your ass doesn't always work out and it's a horrible strategy. My strategies might not work for you, but if you're willing to read on then you'll find some of the ways I've tried that get me to be somewhat productive:

1) Get out of your room. Being alone in your room gives you the freedom to goof-off or go online. Your gaming systems are probably there. Your art-supplies, the bed, etc. Don't sit in a room full of temptations and expect that you won't be tempted to do something fun rather than study. If you don't need the internet or your computer or whatever else for a particular part of your academic work (e.g. readings either for a class or for a paper) then take what you need, leave everything else, and find somewhere else with fewer distractions to do the thing and don't let yourself go home until you finish it. It could be somewhere as close as your dining room table, or outside of your living area entirely: Univerity library, a food court, a random area where you can sit and be alone with your readings etc. Personally, I tend to go to foodcourts or fast-food joints with self-serve soft-drinks. Self-serve usually means unlimited-refills so long as you and the cup remain in the establishment. So I order a meal and plop down to eat and go through my readings/assignments while getting the most out of the drink I paid for. Also, being out in public means I'm a lot less tempted to just watch youtube videos or something.

2) Prioritize. Make a list of the stuff you have to do in order of importance. Define "importance" however you wish. I usually go by whichever ones are "due" sooner. E.g. I have: readings for the class on Monday, mini-assignment for Wednesday's night class, studying for an exam on Tuesday morning, laundry (2 weeks overdue therefore you have 4 loads instead of 2), and a paper due on Thursday. I'll create a numbered list: 1) Readings for Monday 2) Study notes for exam, 3) Mini Assignment 4) Paper 5) Laundry (2 loads). Then I try to stick to that list as much as I can. I usually end up deviating and that's my next point.

3) If you're having trouble getting anything done and getting frustrated with yourself, step back. Ignore the priority order and pick on the shortest or easiest task on your list. Get that out of the way to give yourself the confidence boost of having completed something. Ride that sense of accomplishment and work your way up to the most difficult or complicated task on your list. It won't feel as intimidating if you're riding the positive feelings of completing something. This is why small tasks like laundry, cooking, or cleaning are important to include. If you can't handle your academics right now and feel useless, work on laundry or cleaning or whatever. Simple tasks that are hard to mess up. You'll feel better once you've accomplished something, no matter how small. Don't beat yourself up over not having been productive in the "right" ways--sometimes you just need to feel like you accomplished something. This is also why I end up having tons of sweets and baked goods made during Hell Week in University. I'm stressed out, there's way too many exams to study for and assignments due. I can't focus on any one thing long enough to complete it because all the other stuff is screaming at me and I feel worthless. I feel even worse about myself because I "escape" and decide to bake stuff or make sweets. Then I have a ton of sweets and nothing else done. I am frustrated with myself but I do have to admit that I needed a 'win' in that situation. I needed to feel some sense of accomplishment. I have no idea how to complete my paper or what to study for the exam(s) but I did know how to bake those cookies so I'll munch on those while I try to break down my academic tasks into more managable steps.

4) Break down your work into more managable steps. Telling yourself "Write paper" might not be enough motivation or information to help you figure out where to get started. Instead, if you have a rough outline of phrases or points or references you want to include in your introduction as opposed to your body paragraphs then that'll make producing the paper easier on you. Some people just can't get started on a blank document. It happens to the best of us. If it does then break down your paper into pieces. Introduction, point 1, point 2, point 3, discussion, limitations/other considerations, conclusion. Also, it's good practice to create your reference/bibliography sheet as you find the articles. It's better to have 13+ random articles cited properly from the get-go and choosing which to delete than having to go digging around the library for something someone else may have checked out or worse, trying to find the article again on some online database. Don't do that to yourself. Cite once, cite it properly, and move on.

5) Do something enjoyable. Go out with a friend, complain to each other about assignments, gossip, joke around, laugh with each other. Try some new food at a new place or something. Take advantage of the daily special at a pub. Do something fun to forget about the workload you have no idea how to tackle. This is especially good if you're in the process of brainstorming topics for a paper or if you've finished a draft of something. If you're trying to formulate a topic and thesis statement then taking a break and letting your ideas incubate for a while (subconsciously) is good. When you get back to it you'll either see an angle you never considered before, realize it won't work, or whatever else. All ideas look good in the moment when you come up with them, but give it time to simmer and you might realize it was garbage and you wasted time barking up that tree. Same principle with a draft of a paper. Take a break to forget about it so that you can lay fresh eyes on it when you get back. You'll see the holes in the flow of your argument. You'll better-spot typos. That time away with your friend(s) wasn't a waste, it was re-setting your brain and allowing you time away from your ideas/paper so that you didn't end up married to them and blind to the faults in them.

Good luck! Don’t stay frustrated at yourself. That solves nothing and makes you feel horrible. Find some way to break yourself out of the rut and force yourself to look at the up-sides rather than the negatives. It’s a cliche psychological trick that’s been done to death, but it does have some merit to it. If all you focus on are the negatives, that’s what you’re going to see more of. Look for the positives and choose to focus on that. Rather than be frustrated about not being productive in the “right” areas, look at what you did manage to accomplish. I have a mountain of academic work I have no idea how I’m going to tackle and I’ve got 3 things due in 9 hours. It’s daunting. I wanna cry. But I have freshly-baked, home-made chocolate chip cookies. It’ll be a long night and I’m not sleeping tonight and I’m probably going to have to ask for an extension or figure out which one of these assignments I’m going to take a fail in...but I have cookies.