#writing coffee hour

[carriedreamerxx]

As I write my original works with my research tabs open and ready for reference once again I realize - good God I overdid it again. Hummmmm

Oh well - hello random government agent assigned to my search history - I am so very sorry you got the shortest straw.

Bugs aren't *that* scary 😂

Huh, maybe my own phobia will get better the more I purposely scare myself with these things - you never knowwwwww.

In all seriousness : Do not look at my search history if you are insect phobic right now.

Buzz.

NOTE: Ladybugs are assholes

Excerpt of CHaSM: Book 1 - "Here we go again"

****

Evelyn didn't say much usually, truth be told the woman barely spoke at all, choosing only to at times catch the eyes of her female companion and from that quiet interaction apparently an entire conversation was to be had with eyebrows and varying sizes of pupils and twitches of the mouth. Ah, one of theseb- right Adam would just have to give them privacy then and focus on someone else.

It was rude to "eavesdrop" after all....even if Evie - err Evelyn did seem a bit...flustered?

Hm, interesting, that wasn't a - oh my god why me go away(!)- flustered either - Adam was err... unfortunately ( or fortunately) quite familiar with the latter.

Zari nodded sagely just then, with an affirmative, mmhm, before her own dark eyes flitted over to him and - aw shit he was caught- that little nurse with a bite was going to chew him out later and fuck man, when Zari was pissed at you it was just like being scolded by both your fifth grade teacher and a damn drill sergeant.

Ugh, his life was going to be hell. Kyle threw him a sympathetic glance but also made no moves to rescue Adam from his predicament.

Traitor.

See if Adam smoothed over the next couples spat when Collin vents to him on patrol later.

Footsteps interrupted him and a shadow loomed and...oh.

That would do it.

"Mr. Caputo I presume? I hear you were part of the security detail last night- can you tell me how a restricted area was left open for a civilian to wander in?" Crisp. Polite.

But seething .

Second Class Science officer Noah Harrison* stared down on Adam like a gnat he was about to crush in his fingers and the developing black and blue splosh around his right eye probably didn't help Adam's case.

Noah...had always kind of been a bit of a... Peacock honestly. He was not going to like the fact his face was "blemished" because Adam had been well... A moron.

(again)

So being the man with common sense ( no really he was - don't listen to the haters ) - he gave the officer a smart salute.

"yes sir - I have absolutely no idea what happened I was on the midnight shift I had only just clocked in two minutes before the incident occurred therefore this is not my fault - sir!" He beamed.

Not a hundred percent a lie...

But not enough to fool this particular science officer because oh had that eyebrow had begun to twitch.

"Sir." Both men paused, Noah especially seemed to stiffen at Evie's approach. "It really wasn't his fault, I got turned around, this place is huge, I haven't gotten my bearings yet." She hugged her arm, still bandaged. "Adam was just trying to help me get back." "

Noah frowned more, "And why, Miss Noire were you even out at that hour?"

"Because I prefer the night. It's quiet. Sorry it won't happen again, just don't chew Adam out he didn't do anything wrong, the door was already open when he found me anyway."

"You're sure?"

"Do I look like the type to go poking around restricted areas for fun?" She countered.

"...no." Noah mumbled before puffing his shoulders, "Regardless, Miss Noire- I have to ask that you stay away from restricted areas from now on, they are...off limits for a reason!"

"Well maybe whoever designed this glorified sardine can should have thought of that before putting a door so close to the damm library!"

"Gee you think." Adam muttered but he was ignored. Rude but story of his life.

The standoff was on and all the setting needed was a piece of tumbleweed to drift past the two of them as they continued just glaring at each other.

Then again, he also didn't exist at the moment, oh no the whole world had melted away, leaving nothing but the young woman currently glaring at Noah Harrison* with that frigid "Evie" stare that had clearly frozen the man in place.

"You...have a point." The officer finally mumbled again before clearing his throat. "Right well... Mr. Caputo while your methods were unorthodox they got the job done so I won't be telling the Captain about this."

Adam jumped, "Wait you're not?!"

"I don't see a reason to, it was a close call but it was also entirely at the fault of the ship and whoever was last down there, they didn't follow safety protocol." He scowled. "Which I will take care of right now, excuse me." His voice lowered and Adam felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up though the firm grip on his arm kept him from tumbling down like a dope though, at least he could be petrified with dignity. Huh for being a terrifying stick in the mud at least Noah wasn't a jerk. Good to know.

Satisfied Adam wasn't going to end up up a sad puddle on the ground Noah turned to Evie now.

"Miss Noire, I'm glad to see you unhurt." He murmured. "But next time you find you've lost your way around the sardine can... Come find me instead. Unlike Mr. Caputo, I have a sense of direction." He nodded in her direction before turning on his heel and just striding away.

Okay never mind he's still a jackass.

Didn't matter though, oh Adam saw that pretty clearly in that moment.

And tch...

Here we go again...

***

Notes:

*: Harrison is a placeholder last name

[hyakunana]

"My friend, my partner… my Guardian."

[imaredshirt]

Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.

Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.

"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.

Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."

Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.

Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"

Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"

"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.

He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.

"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."

Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."

"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"

Fidds nods. "Sure do!"

"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."

Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"

"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"

The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"

This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.

"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."

"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.

"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"

Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"

"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.

He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.

"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"

"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"

"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"

Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.

"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"

"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.

Instead he riles him up.

"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"

Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."

"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"

Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"

"You're gonna defend us?"

"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"

"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"

"What!? No!"

"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"

The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.

"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."

Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."

"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.

"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.

Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"

"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"

The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.

Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.

He can't wait to teach him wrestling.

[academic-vampire]

𝔦𝔣 ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔣𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱? (ℭ𝔞𝔣𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔪𝔲𝔰)

@cafe-camus

[koszmarnybudyn]

Here is the slut.

[becca-e-barnes]

There's just something about CEO Bucky being a secret Sub that's really appealing to me tonight

Your heels hardly make any sound at all as you cross the carpeted hotel room floor, letting the door click shut behind you.

"It's good to see you. It's been too long." You're only half listening to the man in front of you, choosing instead to find a spot for your bag and fix your hair after the short walk up the street to the hotel.

"It's been far too long." You agree, turning to face him. Fuck, he looks good. His crisp, white shirt has the top button undone, his tie draped over the back of the chair. His black dress trousers look quite uncomfortable now but you don't dwell on it. He won't be wearing them too much longer anyway.

His hair is sitting perfectly and he's clearly shaved earlier that morning. He looks fucking fantastic but as much as you need to feel some control over him, you need to start with having control over yourself.

You take a second to lean over and give him a gentle kiss, your lips barely brushing his. It's gentle and tender but saturated in barely restrained lust.

It's hard not to let this devolve; to let his hands wander over your body, to let your tongue glide against his and your fingers curl in the short hair at the top of his neck. You're hungry for him and you know he shares your desperation but a when you've waited this long, what's a few more minutes?

"You look beautiful." He smiles, his eyes darting from your lips, back up to meet your eyes again. He's so gentle with you; so wonderfully considerate of your needs and desires. He always has been but tonight, you know he needs the release you're going to offer him.

You stand up, shrugging your long coat off, laying it carefully on the chair off to the side of the bed, leaving you in only a dark leather set and your heels.

"Jesus Christ." You hear him whisper and if that didn't make you feel powerful, the weight of flogger in your hand that you slipped out of your bag certainly does.

"I want you..." You begin, crossing the space once again, marvelling in the entirety of that statement. "To take all this off. And then I want you to get on your knees for me. Can you do that?"

It's nice to make a man like this feel small, knowing that's what he wants too. His head nods excitedly, his fingers busy undoing the buttons of his shirt while you cup his stiffening cock through his trousers.

"Good." You're practically purring, heat blossoming between your legs at the eagerness of this brilliant, intelligent, capable man to hand his ability to think over to you.

Once he's naked, he places himself neatly on his knees on the carpet and you enjoy wrapping his own tie around his head, securing it over his eyes.

His cock juts beautifully out from his body, erect and begging for attention that neither of you want to give it just yet.

"Now." You tease, positioning yourself at the edge of the bed beside him, guiding his face to your spread thighs. "I want you to put that pretty mouth to good use. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yes." He whispers between kisses to the soft insides of your thighs and you know in his head he's waxing poetic about the heat of your skin under his lips.

The tips of the flogger trail up his back, gently tickling his skin before you flick your wrist and make them strike his back.

"Talk isn't what I'm looking for." You remind him, your fingers in his hair guiding his head to your cunt.

He laps eagerly, moaning pathetically at the taste of your arousal, flicking your clit and sliding his tongue into your entrance like this is all he's ever needed.

"Traffic light safe word system." You remind him, trailing the tips of the flogger up his back again. "Or just don't disappoint me and we won't need to use it."

[gingerale13]

Magnet Yuri

I am slowly becoming a shit post account aren't I

[isbergillustration]

Went to the library to write and it’s going so efficiently.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

I came out of my exam thinking I bombed it (prof assigned the points in a weird way), but !!! I got an A!!! Not only that, this is my first A on a nursing exam in this whole program. Like. Holy shit? I have been studying so hard all month, this was our critical care midterm, aka the second hardest exam in the program, and!!! I crushed it!!!

[transmutationisms]

ok I lied when I said I don't like listening to albums repetitively. I have written upwards of 20,000 words in the past month and every single one of them while listening to the same four everything everything albums on loop

[possamble]

whats your take on marcille and pattadols post canon friendship? they seem to hang out occasionally in a couple of post canon shorts and i was wondering if your beautiful mind has anything more to add? youre amazing 💖

☺️ aha thank you so much!!! Pattadol and Marcille are sooo interesting to me because like. I think Pattadol is who Marcille would have become if her parents had both been long-lived, and she never had a reason to question elven authority. The hardworking attitude, insistence on sticking to a very rigid set of principles, a little bit of vanity in wanting to be recognized for her efforts... the slightly ridiculous uptightness and neurotic attitude at times, though at heart they're both kind people who want the best for everyone in their own ways.

In the post-canon, I'm assuming that Pattadol has her own ambassador's quarters in either the castle or the inner city, and the two of them grab tea at the castle drawing room/garden/whatever. I think they talk shop, soundboard ideas off each other, and gossip/complain a little about incompetent colleagues/problems... I think they're each others' dream work friends, honestly. Polite, competent, friendly but never getting overly personal, fun and pleasant to talk to. The fact that Pattadol's 82 and a fairly young woman by elven standards also plays into it, I think -- Marcille hasn't had another elf friend along the same maturity range and professional level of experience, so this is probably nice for her!

What I would like to see is them eventually developing a closer relationship. I think a lot about the way Pattadol reassured Marcille that, because of her accomplishments, she'd have a pretty comfortable sentence as a Canary. About the way, while there was tension because of what was happening at the time, they were both immediately very polite to each other upon meeting and kind of?? got along/clicked immediately in some ways?? It feels like they have the same kind of standards for themselves and others (as well as general inexperience and slight insecurity about their own competency, which probably makes them feel at more or less an equal level with each other).

And I think that'd be good for both of them -- having someone else that they admire, who also admires them in return and recognizes their talents and hard work. There's a very unique kind of rapport you build with someone that you hold as an intellectual peer and can trust to give you feedback that's actually reliable and up to par. While they might both be too professional to really become super close friends who can always be open with each other, there's a very real and deep kind of companionship that forms from this kind of trust, and I hope that's the direction they're heading in.

It's also extra delicious if you add in the tension of Pattadol inherently being a foreign agent from a country that isn't necessarily friendly, but they end up with that strange trust anyway... not to mention the thought that she might find herself actually admiring how Melini is growing and trying to defend it when reporting back to the queen.

[stergeon]

> FERDINAND II.

And so your PLANT shall henceforth be known as FERDINAND II.

The thought of needing to inform FERDINAND I of his having a namesake makes you a bit ill, but you are already hard at work devising several plausible excuses for the gesture. Something about how you've named it after the one most invested in its naming, or how it is similarly prone to drooling. Yes. Yes, you will be able to deflect quite easily, should the need arise. It has nothing to do with your fondness for FERDINAND or your desire for a substitute in his imminent absence, no—again, you are not so prone to sentimentality. It's about the drool.

Well, anyway. Best to move on with your day and think about something else, lest you grow maudlin or cultivate further affection for the PLANT. May the GODDESS be merciful and never cause you to develop inclinations that could be described as paternal.

Now that your plant has received sufficient care, it is time for COFFEE. You set to making your morning brew. By CHANCE, there happens to be sufficient water remaining in the kettle for FERDINAND I to have TEA, should he wish it.

Per your TIMEPIECE, it is now a quarter to eight. You have made excellent progress on your PRE-BREAKFAST TO-DO LIST thus far: the only remaining task is to remove FERDINAND. You are starting to get rather peckish and would like to be rid of him quickly, but over the past week, you have found that extracting the man from YOUR QUARTERS is a more arduous task than it ought to be.

#007 | << | <- | -> | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | ALL POSTS

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

me: my head hurts :(

mom: drink water and lie down

me, a whump writer: alas, for research purposes, I cannot

[brisquad-unit-4402]

hey here’s a stray hc for something i’m writing but the hc won’t make it in the final draft. you know how sometimes when you dream, you twitch in your sleep? and how it it much more common with cats and dogs because you see them asleep far more often than humans?

anyways mysta and alban twitching often in their sleep. like DUDE. listen to me here. i’m onto something. i just skimmed a reddit thread where someone said their dog had dream feet

hear me out on this one. you’re in bed with mysta it’s late at night you were up doing something whatever that’s not important. but you know what is important? you enter the room and see mysta went to bed hours ago and is already deep asleep, so deep asleep that he’s already kicked half the covers off.

he’s sprawled out on his back, and his hair is already starting to become bedhead, and you feel the mattress sink in as you get yourself comfortable. his leg twitches! just a quick quirk to the side as you tuck yourself in.

then as you settle, another little twitch, and this time it spreads to the other side of his body for just a moment before it’s gone.

you smile. cutie. he looks so serene, but even when he’s asleep, he still has enough energy that he moves to his dreams.

five minutes later, as you begin to drift off, you hear shuffling on the other side of the bed. then pressure. mysta rolled over to his side in his sleep, and rested himself against you. he’s shivering, you realize, and his skin is bumpy as well. poor baby got too hot under the covers, but he’s too cold without them either.

you gently rub circles along his back, cupping him into a cuddle as you do so. mysta stays small in your embrace and the shared warmth gets him to stop shivering.

he stays there, though. you don’t have the heart to move your arm and send him into another chill either. so you drift off with your limbs tangled between him, and before you enter dreamland, you feel the twitch of his leg against yours.

OH OH OH OR. alban’s expecting an early morning tomorrow, so he fell asleep hours before your usual bedtime. he lays curled up like a shrimp, and as his chest rises and falls, his lips slightly part with steady breaths just short of a snore.

his hands are close to his chest and below his chin, but the palms are exposed through his loose fingers. they’re very pretty hands, usually hidden by gloves thick enough to hide identifying traits, so when they’re off (rare except for when he’s resting) you see gentle skin and smooth nails.

even when he rests, alban is catlike. his loosely curled fingertips end just above the joint where the finger itself starts, so almost all of his palm is outstretched.

like a paw pad, you muse, barely able to contain yourself from cooing and possibly waking him up. however, you can’t keep yourself together for long, and you reach a finger out to gently press on his palm like a button.

and just like a button, when you make contact, his fingers flutter.

entranced, you brush along the palm again, and another set of fingers waver while his eyes are closed in sleep.

it’s almost like a game. alban’s hands wind you down as you play with them, and observe how his fingers swirl along yours even in his sleep. he’s dexterous.

you spend too long fascinated by how they move even while the thief himself isn’t available, that when you feel the soft skin between fingers again, alban catches you by surprise as he runs his arm up and around you, without even waking up to aim. try as you might, you can’t dodge out of his grasp, and after all, why would you? he’s too adorable to ignore even when he’s asleep

[bibliophilea]

Caffeine Rush Zine drops November 16!

My noontime tea steeps dark and red. It's set aside for work and school, Forgotten 'til it's time for bed. It's midterms week that lies ahead, So students flock here, as a rule. My noontime tea steeps dark and red. It sits in waiting as I tread, The surface glinting like a jewel, Forgotten 'til it's time for bed.

Excerpt from "Noontime Tea" by bibliophilea

The Caffeine Rush Zine is a coffee and tea speed run zine for artists and writers alike, organized by @bycmykae! This is a preview of one of the villanelles I wrote for the zine!

We're spilling the tea on November 16, 2024!

EDIT: The tea has been spilled! The Caffeine Rush Zine is free!

Zine Previews: 1 2 >3< 4 5

[sugarsnappeases]

rita skeeter, at the end of the first war