Okay! time to add my accompanying essays with each image from this set of work about why I assigned which types of play to each set of characters, and how Baldur's Gate III supports these in the text of the game. Because I thought about all of this way too much im not joking

First, Context:

All of these are drawings of consensual play happening between these characters after they have put aside any active conflicts between each other. Nonetheless, they utilise the dynamics and emotional conflicts of these characters. Each of these characters are in some way violent people, deeply stressed out by their circumstances, and craving pleasure and connection. Sometimes you need a little pinch and squeal before the end of the world just to get through the night, you know?

Knife play; Shadowheart (D) / Lae'zel (S)

This is definitely the best supported concept in the text of the game because we literally see this happen, though in a significantly different context. I'd say most of us thought it was hot, whether we realised it or not, and I think Shadowheart and Lae'zel probably agreed once they weren't worried about dying! I think its the perfect encapsulation of the tension between SH and LZ both early on and as it resolves. It also expresses both their personalities very succinctly and accurately. SH is absolutely an edgy, paranoid goth, and LZ would love the thrill.

For all the early game SH sees LZ as ruthless and dangerous to her, and resents Gith for the death of her peers. LZ is a threat she wants to neutralize or at least control. At the same time, SH is someone who prefers to avoid conflict and subtly occupy power/advantage in most situations she finds herself in. She has little concern for honour, pride or fairness.

Lae'zel absolutely does. She is a very straight forward and efficient person. For her, SH starts as an inconveniently racist coworker, but at the reveal of the artifact SH becomes more than that; not only has she insulted LZ's people, she's revealed herself to be untrustworthy, very willing to lie and play dirty. Not only does SH seem to hate her, but SH has rules and intentions that are entirely unknown to LZ, and that is obviously frightening.

AND SO I JUST THINK... that potent history would be very hot background for fear based play, which knife play is all about. The heart-racing threat of the point of a dangerous object held at your most tender areas - throats, armpits, mouths, bellies... and the depth of trust and submission to let that occur, to sit in the fear and really enjoy the rush of danger and helplessness, knowing you will be safe. It shows a profound growth in their regard for eachother, a true and total overcoming of old resentments and conflicts.

This is not only a position I think SH would relish - to reduce someone as deadly as LZ to being at her mercy, and to feel deeply trusted with someone's life and pleasure - but also a rare delight for LZ. To take the heart-thumping threat of a battlefield, which she absolutely thrives in, and to toy with and explore that mental space. To be truly stripped back and placed in anothers hands. For that to be an enemy who has become someone she feels so completely safe with.

Beneath this I think there is also a thread of empathy and shared idiosyncratic communication between them. They were both cruelly broken into roles that made it difficult for them to connect to others. Violence is a language both of them understand very well, in different ways, and even after they each turn on their cruel masters, violence retains meaning for them.

For SH, violence is to be enacted and more often endured as a sign of devotion. It's something that carries wisdom, the agony of lessons learned and knowledge that is uncomfortable but ultimately good for you. I don't think this is something she decides is wrong. I think what disillusioned her (beyond the betrayal of being lied to) was how Shar was revealed to have misused her pain. Shar's pain was not a gift, it had no loving measure or purpose. It was a spiteful, excessive control tactic.

I like to imagine SH learning a new way to use her affinity with pain, which I think is a very normal affinity for people to have. To learn how to use pain the way she had wanted it to be used and had come to admire. To make pain bespoke from Shar, her own gift to give and recieve on her own terms.

For LZ, violence is to be mastered for survival and superiority. Pain was only endured to prove you could endure it better than others. Violence is a hammer in a world where all beings are nails, except you and the few other hammers. All else was forsaken for this mastery. Even in sex violence and superiority are key. Vulnerability is terrifying, to make yourself a nail made to be driven by hammers who are certain of their purpose.

What else could be a greater liberating thrill, a more profound sign of trust for LZ? Willing submission to the violence of another. Those she comes to truly love become the source of her bruises. In submission to violence LZ embraces true vulnerability, untethered by tradition, opening herself to another person and trusting them to handle her with care.

In conclusion: These bitches love knife play, it gets them super hot and they feel rly connected after and share wine and cheese and maybe a massage if they have energy as aftercare. LZ will be cuddled but only if SH doesn't ask and just does it. LZ always makes sure to tell SH she admires her skill and had fun. Its very sweet

There's Just No Getting Through Without You // Ashton Irwin

There's not much excuse explanation for this one tbh - I saw the crochet hat/beard/tank selfie and not only did I (obviously) lose it but this entire narrative inexplicably spun itself in my mind and I wrote a good chunk of this fic in one sitting (secretly because I was actually supposed to be finishing up the edits on the collab series Cass and I were about to be posting 😌🤫). More than ever, thanks to @cal-puddies for indulging my breakdown. 💙

Warnings: Boyfriend on tour!Ash. Slight angst (no conflict, just emo feels) that is happily resolved. Backstage comfort sex including female receiving oral and unprotected sex in an established relationship. It's a soft one, friends.

Word Count: 5050

Masterlist // Ko-Fi linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Ashton grumbles to himself as he flops down onto the dressing room couch. He loves being on tour - traveling the world, meeting people and playing music are some of his greatest passions and greatest pleasures - but days like today still have the ability to make part of him wish he had taken on a simpler vocation. 

He’s not sure what city they’re currently in but he is sure he never wants to visit again because the experience has been such a nightmare. The band stayed at a hotel in the last city because the ride to the next one was only supposed to take a few hours. It was a literal rude awakening when their tour manager banged on each of their doors at 4am to announce there were new road closures on the route and everyone now had one hour to load onto the bus before they had to leave to make up the time.

Unfortunately, leaving early made little difference as the detours impacted traffic throughout the city, meaning they were still late to the radio station they were stopping by to promote the gig, which meant they were also late to the venue, one of Ashton’s least favorite things to be. They would’ve been late to soundcheck as well but fortunately? Unfortunately? Perspective is relative at this point but the fact of the matter is they are currently unable to soundcheck because now inclement weather is of concern at this outdoor venue and the promoters are asking for the show to be pushed back at least an hour, maybe two, in hopes that the worst of it passes. It’s not like it matters, anyways - the trucks with their equipment got caught in traffic as well and the crew just began unloading.

Topping the list of Ash’s complaints, the worst part of his day, hands down, was saying goodbye to you. You’d spent the past week and a half on the road with him and he knew you’d be leaving this morning but that didn’t make it any easier. Not to mention that because of the change in schedule, he’d had to leave you much earlier than originally planned. He expected to have one last breakfast with you, maybe a shower, some sort of properly improper goodbye. Not you, bleary-eyed and disoriented, having to run around the hotel room to help him find his phone charger before he left you with a rushed kiss at the door while Calum texted empty threats about the bus departing without him.

He hopes you’re having a good day, that you aren’t too nervous on your flight. He knows you hate it and he hopes he’s made it clear how much he appreciates you enduring to come see him, that he’s proud of you for overcoming that anxiety. His fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to send a quick text to tell you all that but he stops himself, lacing his fingers together across his chest to keep from reaching for the phone. He knows if he messages you, you’ll keep talking to each other until he gets called to stage and he wants you to rest, focus on staying calm while you’re in the air. He hopes you were able to get back to sleep after he left this morning. He hopes you’re napping now. Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea for himself either.

He makes himself more comfortable, shrugging off the button down shirt he had over his tank, adjusting the pillow behind him, kicking off his shoes. He checks the volume on his phone - when the show was delayed, everyone else went to the hotel while he opted to stay at the venue, partly out of obligation and partly because he just wanted to be alone - and finally, he tugs his hat down over his eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath. He’s usually not one for using sleep to escape, he believes in facing the present head on, living viscerally and in the moment. He tells himself he’s going to sleep for practical reasons, that it’s already been a long day and he needs to recharge for the show. But if he’s honest, he’s taking a nap because he knows you’ll be waiting for him in his dreams. Having you with him always makes things better and even if it’s just for a little while, he’ll take that in any form he can get it right now. 

***

The backstage corridor echoes with the sound of your long, tired exhale. You’re exhausted, you’re frustrated but at least you’re here. The tour manager said Ash was resting in the back dressing room, the one with the extra trunks of clothes, the ice bath, the catch all for the auxiliary supplies the band doesn’t want crowding their main space. You held back a wince when you heard he was back there, you know that means he’s having a bad day and doesn’t want to be bothered. 

You take another deep breath as you make your way down to the opposite end of the hall. You’d run into Luke when you stopped by the hotel just now and he gave a brief summary of the shitshow they’d been through since you parted ways earlier that morning. You hope Ash is okay, that he’s being kind to himself. Nothing that happened today was his fault but you know him well enough to know that isn’t enough to keep himself out of the line of fire when he’s ruminating on the day’s events. And you know he’s ruminating.

So many things have gone wrong today, you half expect the dressing room to be locked when you reach it but the handle on the door easily jiggles when you try it. You knock quietly and after a few beats of silence, you give another series of taps as you crack the door open to take a peek. You’re instantly met with the sound of snoring and you feel both endearment and relief at the discovery. At least he’s resting, at least if he’s asleep then he’s not stressed.

Trying to minimize your chance of disturbing him, you slip your shoes off and leave your backpack by the door. You tiptoe into the room slowly, walking around to the front of the couch, and stop dead in your tracks as your boyfriend comes into view. You never knew people actually swooned in real life but you feel yourself go weak in the knees when you see him lying on his side, bare feet tucked together in between the seat cushion and the back of the couch, bulky arms hugged tightly around himself, making his large frame look downright small. 

His bright orange crochet hat peeks out from where his face is buried in the back of the couch. serving as a makeshift eye mask, its floppy bill stretched down to obscure half his face; you smile at the memory of him immediately spotting it in the pile of fan gifts from the previous show, how he excitedly pulled it on while he read the note from its creator and followed them on Twitter. Surely the scenario you’re currently observing was not its intended use but kudos to him for being innovative.

You’ve done your best not to wake him thus far but the urge to curl up with him is too strong to ignore and you ease yourself onto the couch behind him. You tuck one arm under your head and drape the other gently across his chest, flattening yourself against his back. Lying with him is an instant comfort - breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his body, the chemical satisfaction of your skin on his, even if it’s just what your tank tops will allow. 

You indulge one more impulse and press a kiss to his bare shoulder, making sure your lips hit a particular pair of freckles. You feel him begin to stir and you freeze but your caution quickly turns to heartache when he breathes out a soft sigh that resembles your name, as if feeling your affection wasn’t unexpected, despite your departure. You watch the surprise set in when he instinctively grabs your hand resting on his chest and his head cocks to the side, as he realizes where he fell asleep and that he should be alone.

“...Baby?” Ashton whispers curiously, lifting his hat and peering over his shoulder to find your patient expression. His eyes widen at the discovery and he turns onto his other side to face you, still holding your hand. “Baby, why… wha… How are you real?”

You chuckle softly, squeezing his fingers. “They started delaying flights because of the weather and I was quick enough to hop on one here before the storm came this way. Figured if I was gonna be stuck somewhere, I’d rather have it be with you.”

A variety of emotions cross his face and he ultimately lands on concern. “Aww, sweetheart, I’m sorry… are you going to be OK with work and everything?”

“I’ve been texting my boss but like… it’s weather, there’s not anything that can be done, you know?” You rub his arm, wanting to curb any misplaced guilt he might have brewing.

“Yeah…” He trails off, going quiet for a minute before touching your face, looking like he needed additional confirmation you’re really in front of him. “Well, I’m sorry your plans got ruined but I’m very grateful you’re here.”

He leans in, placing possibly the softest kiss you’ve ever felt on your lips. “Me too, babe.” You say quietly, lifting his hat off so you can brush his hair back. “I dropped my stuff off at the hotel and Luke told me a little bit about how the day’s been. Sounded frustrating, I’m sorry.”

“Ugggghhhhhh,” he grumbles, running his hands over his face. “Baby, you can’t even imagine…”

Ash launches into the unabridged version of his tale of woe, complete with impressions of various management, event hosts and band members. You giggle, ooh and aww at all the appropriate intervals and you can tell that sharing his experience with you is giving him the catharsis he needed. By story’s end, he’s moved onto his back and pulled you onto his chest. One hand strokes gently through your hair, the other rests on your hip, undemanding but keeping you close. His voice, tired but warm, has gotten noticeably quieter since he took you into his arms and as you lay with him, you can feel his body relaxing against yours, the stress of the day fading as he melts into you.

The more relaxed he is, the less he has to rant about and soon, the quiet whir of the air conditioner is the only noise that fills the room. You run your fingers up and down the long chain from his pendant necklace, appreciating that the rise and fall of his chest seems to be getting deeper, that he’s continuing to calm down. 

He kisses your forehead, smiling against it as he murmurs, “When you got here, I was dreaming about you.”

“Oh?” You prop yourself up to look at him, smiling sweetly.

“Yeah… we were in bed --”

Your smile turns to a smirk and you raise your eyebrows suggestively.

“No, not like that… well… I don’t know, maybe,” he giggles, pinching your ass. “Nothing was really happening, we were just touching and talking like this.”

“But in bed?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Naked?”

“There were sheets but my brain is pretty fond of you naked so my guess would be yes.”

You snuggle in tighter to him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Sounds like a nice dream.”

Ashton cradles your jaw, thumb stroking affectionately over your cheek. “I hated that I had to leave without saying goodbye this morning,” he admits.

“Well… you did say the word goodbye to me,” you point out with a grin, trying to lighten his mood.

He smirks and continues your implication. “Yeah, but my mouth usually puts in a little more work than that, doesn’t it?”

You giggle wickedly as he slides his hands in your back pockets to push you up his body and into a playful kiss. You scratch your nails along his beard, longing to hear the noise he always makes when you do; he delivers, deepening the kiss as he groans, one of his hands moving from your pocket to slip up the back of your shirt. His fingertips are still raw and cracked from drumming the night before but it’s Ash so you love it and you shiver at the rough designs they trace on your skin.

His bottom lip between your teeth, you pull away and coyly ask, “How would you have wanted the morning to go if we’d had more time?”

He matches your teasing tone, answering, “Oh, I had lots of ideas.”

You peck along his jaw and when you reach his ear, you whisper, “Gimme your Top 3 then.” 

“Hmm… definitely would’ve slept in. Then maybe a nice stroll to that cafe we found across from the hotel? Pancakes and coffee.”

“Mmm, that sounds lovely,” you coo, nipping at his ear, tugging gently on the gold hoop he wears, earning a murmur of acknowledgement. “Number one?”

“Oh, my number one choice definitely would’ve been spending as much time as I could with my face buried between your legs.”

The casual way he delivered that statement is as surprising as it is hot and he lets out a low chuckle at the way your breath catches. Desire obvious in your voice, you egg him on with a simple, “Oh?”

Ash shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance but unable to keep a self-satisfied grin from spreading across his face. “At least long enough for you to feel the scratch of my beard on your thighs all the way home.” He brings you into a heated kiss and you moan, feeling his tongue dance with yours and imagining it moving like that on your pussy. “Long enough to taste you on my beard for the rest of the day.”

“Jesus, Ash,” you groan, pressing your hips against his. He parts your legs with one of his, providing just enough pressure to get you whining into his mouth as you make out. He kisses you slowly but with purpose, his hands and lips focused on all the ways he knows make you feel most loved and wanted by him. By the time his hands have moved down to grip your ass, slowly rocking you on his thigh, you feel irredeemably needy for him.

“So happy you’re here, love,” he murmurs against your lips. “So glad I get some more time with you… appreciating you… loving on you.” He punctuates each of these declarations with a kiss and a soft squeeze of your hips, pressing you onto his leg.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, babe,” you say honestly, breathlessly, rolling your hips, openly looking for friction now.

His lips curl into a mischievous smile. “There’s someplace I’d rather you be though,” he responds, bringing a hand up to stroke his beard. “Climb up here. Let me drown in you, baby.”

It’s not the filthiest thing he’s ever said to you but the sincerity in his eyes makes his request unbearably hot, you can tell he’s craving your taste in this moment. You get up off the couch, whimpering at how instantly chilly you feel without his body heat against you, and hastily kick off your pants and underwear. You climb back up, sitting on his chest, waiting for him to be ready.

He settles back against the pillow, running his hands over your now bare thighs before narrowing his eyes in thought. “How would you feel about losing this?” He asks, tugging at your oversized tour tee. Your hands reach for the hem while your eyes momentarily flit in the direction of the door, unsure if you locked it. He notices your hesitance and reassures you, “There’s no one here, baby, and anyone who is knows to leave me be.”

Your desire to feel him on you outweighs any concerns you have and you peel your top off, tossing your bra aside as well. Your decision is immediately rewarded with Ashton’s warm touch tracing up your sides before landing on your breasts, his large hands kneading them appreciatively. “Was mainly concerned for your sake,” you tease, placing your hands over his and squeezing. “Getting girls naked backstage? Thought you were all grown out of that phase by now.”

He giggles at your jab, tweaking your nipples in retaliation. “Appreciate you lookin’ out for me, love,” he jokes. “That mean you’re planning on keeping quiet too?”

You bite your lip, watching him eye you smugly as hand drifts between your legs. “Of course, I would never embarrass us like that,” you say, barely able to keep a straight face, thinking of the hotel noise complaint you received the first night of your visit. 

He smirks, dragging his fingers through your wetness before drawing slow, feather light circles on your clit. You, of course, let out a low moan at the much anticipated contact. “Bold of you to assume I’m not proud of how I make my girl feel so fuckin’ good she can’t help but scream.”

His fingers increase their pressure and you moan again before leaning down to capture his lips in a charged kiss. “Mouth’s doing a lot of talking but not much else,” you sass, rolling your hips on his hand.

He grins, giving a quick slap to your bottom. “Anytime, baby,” he laughs, bringing a hand up to frame his mouth. “Your throne awaits.”

The both of you giggle as you move up to hover over his face. You look down and feel your heart begin to race, seeing the love drunk way he’s staring up at your body, licking his lips, caressing your thighs. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he rasps. “So wet, so perfect, so ready for me… always so happy to eat this pussy, baby, so grateful I get another chance before you leave.”

You sigh his name as you lower yourself, gasping as your body makes contact with his mouth. He grips your thighs, pressing teasing open mouth kisses up and down your folds, making sure no area of your pussy feels unappreciated, while strategically stopping short of paying any attention to your clit. You impatiently wiggle around, trying to direct his movements by tangling your hands in his curls, trying to force some kind of stimulation but he’s too familiar with all your tricks and too stubborn to let you employ them.

“Ash,” you start, fingers pulling in his hair.

Muffled giggles sound out from underneath you. “Love, I’ve just started, you can’t be that impatient,” he laughs. He nips at your inner thighs and you feel him smile against your skin as you react to the feel of his beard. “Gimme a chance, let me work my magic.”

“Magic, eh?”

He scoffs, accepting your unspoken challenge. He makes his way up and down your center again, this time slowly dragging his tongue, making sure to trace every intricate detail of you. When he reaches your clit, he makes up for ignoring it before, lapping short but stiff strokes before wrapping his lips around it, providing loud, firm suction with complementary flourishes of his tongue circling you.

“Oh god, Ash,” you whine. He murmurs something in response and the vibrations of his voice against you add extra stimulation. You jump at the feeling of his tongue switching to a rapid fluttering motion and his grip on you tightens. You let him hold you, grateful for the support - he’s making you feel so good you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself and your hands indecisively alternate between your tits, your thighs and his hair.

Ash’s hands come around to your ass, squeezing as he pushes you up to check in. “Baby… first it wasn’t enough and now it’s too much?” He asks, tone half-curious, half-teasing. 

You take a deep breath, shrugging. “Not too much, just really really good.”

His touch roams your body, moving from your ass to rub at your thighs to cup your tits. He asks with a twinkle in his eye, “You want me to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you laugh, playfully yanking his hair.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of your thighs. “Think you should ride my face, love,” he suggests, suddenly licking a fat stripe up your pussy, enjoying the way your body jerks in reaction. “Your thighs are barely red, baby, it’s time to put in work.”

You grin and joke, “How else am I gonna remember you and this encounter without marks on my body?”

He giggles, positioning you back over his mouth. “Exthacthly," he says, speech impaired by the way he exaggeratedly has his tongue flattened and hanging out of his mouth, somehow making it look even wider than it already is.

You laugh at his goofiness but it gives way to a low hiss when he sucks your clit back between his lips. You begin working your hips, trying to match the rhythm he’s already using. The two of you communicate through grunts and murmurs, working together to find a pace that makes you breathless. 

“Mmm… Ash…” You pant, pulling gently at his curls. He relaxes his tongue and the change in pressure makes you gasp. You groan quietly as you grind against him, leaning into the way he’s sloppily kissing your pussy. “Feels so good… you make me feel so good. Always do.”

A pleasantly painful burn warms your thighs, the result of both beard friction and muscle exertion as you continue to ride his face, the promise of your climax stirring within you. He grabs your ass, massaging your cheeks as you speed up to chase it. The more frantic your movements become, the tighter he grasps you and you cry out at the realization he’s leaving marks there too.

“Ash… babe… God, I’m… fuck, Ash, fuck,” you ramble, your orgasm suddenly threatening to wash over you. He keeps it consistent, letting the sensation build and build until he feels your legs tense around his head. You whine and huff through the waves of pleasure, Ash’s grip the only thing keeping you steady as your hips slow and your body goes slack.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he soothes, gently rubbing over your skin until you’re ready for him to help you down. He lays you on his chest again, wrapping his arms around your naked body, wanting to keep you warm. “Taste so good, rode my face so well… sound so beautiful cumming for me, love. Thank you.” 

You weakly push yourself up, in search of a kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and again when you pull back to see his lips swollen and beard glistening as a result of your activities. “You’re good at that,” you say simply, brain too frazzled to think of a better way of putting it. He chuckles at your compliment, laughs becoming louder when you start to snuggle but stop to tug at his tank top and frown. “Why is this still here?”

He heeds your complaint, raising his arms to discard the offending clothing. He tries to pull you back into his arms but you continue to pout, eyes darting to glare at his jeans before looking up at him again. He snorts, pops the button and starts to shimmy them off. “If you wanted me naked, baby, could’ve just said so.”

“How do you not know by now that’s always implied?” You tease, finally curling up on him, lips immediately pressing to his chest, hand immediately wrapping around the bulge in his boxers.

“You’re right, baby, that’s my bad,” he laughs, running his hands up and down all your bare skin he can reach. He coaxes you into a slow kiss which easily becomes a lazy make out, the two of you unhurriedly touching each other. Your fingers dip inside his waistband and he pecks your lips, insisting, “I’m fine, sweetheart, you don’t have to.”

You nip at his neck and reply, “Don’t have to but want to.” You squeeze his cock, using the precum already formed at the tip to ease the slow strokes you begin on his length. He exhales deeply, eyes fluttering as your thumb rubs that spot just under the head like he loves. “How can I make you feel good, babe? Anything you want.”

“Mmm…” Ashton sighs. He closes his eyes and catches his lip between his teeth as you spoil him with affection: one hand twisting on his shaft, the other tracing an intricate design around his nipple. Your mouth marks a bright red spot onto the dip of his shoulder, careful to follow along his tan lines so it’ll stay covered on stage. “Think I wanna feel you around me.”

“I can do that,” you murmur, kissing up his jaw to his lips. You can tell he’s about to try to turn you over and you shake your head as you tug down his boxers. “Nah, just relax, babe. It’s my turn.”

You swing your leg over to straddle him and pull his cock away from his stomach, ducking down to lick over the drops of precum that have stuck to his tummy; he moans at the contact and you moan back, loving the way you can feel his breath shudder under your tongue.

Holding his gaze, you reach between your legs and run his length through your folds, coating him in your arousal. He realizes he’d been holding his breath and he puffs it out loudly, hands rubbing over your thighs in an attempt to ground himself. You press the head of his cock against your entrance, slowly pushing him inside as the two of you groan in unison. 

Ash’s fingers dig into your hips as you sink down on him with remarkable restraint, inch by inch, torturously slow. You finally allow him to bottom out and your head lulls back as you squeeze your eyes shut and lick your lips, relishing the feeling of him filling you up. His hands travel up your body to grab your breasts, massaging them firmly. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, slightly concerned you remain unmoving.

You nod as you lean in to give him a hungry kiss. “After this morning went the way it did, thought I wouldn’t feel you like this for a while,” you explain, stroking his beard, smiling into another kiss. “Just enjoying it.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him while he remains buried in you. “Good, baby, me too.” You begin rocking your hips at a leisurely pace, letting him slide in and out while you continue to press kisses to his mouth. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing your cheeks as he helps you grind on his cock. He sighs dreamily, “Fuck, I love you.”

“Love you too, babe,” you breathe, nipping at his jaw before righting yourself, running your fingers along his chest hair, massaging his pecs as you start more of a bouncing rhythm. You chuckle watching the large pendant he’s wearing dance across his chest as you move on his body. He tries to bring a hand between you to work your clit but you intercept it, interlacing your fingers and kissing his knuckles. “Wanna focus on you… I’ll go again later at the hotel.” 

He moans, maybe it’s from the way you’re rotating your hips, maybe it’s from the knowledge that this doesn’t have to be the last time he has you before you leave, that your goodbye can last all day long, maybe into tomorrow if you’re lucky and the weather doesn’t clear up. Whatever the cause, you recognize the tone and know he’s getting close. You pick up the pace and his hands return to your tits, eager to hold them while you ride.

You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs, arching your back and giving him quite the show as you work your bodies faster. Ashton now has a clear view of his cock disappearing inside you and as he becomes hypnotized watching you take him over and over, he lets out a low hum that becomes more and more whiny as it goes on.

“Baby…”

“I know… Want you to… Wanna feel…”

A series of whimpers escape his throat and then with a final grunt, he throws his head back, mouth hanging open in a silent cry. You feel his thighs tense under your touch and his hands desperately tighten around your breasts as his cock begins pulsing inside you. You coo soft praise and encouragement as he cums, caressing his chest, watching him closely for the signal that he needs you to stop moving.

He meets your eyes again, grinning as his hand trails over your stomach. “You sure, love?” He asks, fingers ready to continue their journey down.

You smile softly, insisting, “Just want a cuddle, to be honest.”

“Oh fuck yeah, sweetheart, me too,” he agrees, flexibly reaching behind himself for the tissue box on the end table.

You giggle at his enthusiasm and he smiles dopily as he cleans you up and lays back down so you can relax into his open arms. You snuggle into his side, laughing, “Guess you’re gonna have to think of some new goodbye sex ideas now.”

“OK well first of all, that wasn’t the goodbye sex. Trust me, you’d know if it were goodbye sex,” Ash protests boastfully, giggling as he squeezes your ass. “And second, as long as we’re naked, no thinking about saying goodbye or leaving or not being together in any way will be permitted, thanks.”

“My bad.”

“Them’s the rules.”

You poke the tattoo on his rib, teasing, “How can we have goodbye sex if we’re not allowed to think about goodbyes when we’re naked?”

He snorts, struggling to keep his serious expression. “Them’s the rules.”

You shake your head and peck at his chest. “Well, maybe we’ll luck out and that storm warning will be extended and I’ll get stuck again.”

He holds you tighter and sighs. “Here’s to hoping for another bad day.”

Signs You’ve Become A Quality Writer

- an item that’s described in detail recurs in your storyline 2-3 times. you know of its symbolic plus emotional value, and how effective a framing tool it can become. the state and use of said item reflects the story as a whole.

- you use dictionary websites more than googling things up. you rely on your fantasy rather than absolute accuracy and improve your delivery instead. which ultimately, makes the sentence worth reading a lot more than overcomplexity in terms of facts. a quality writer is past the phase of double-checks. incorporating your own experiences comes across as much more vivid, it trumps any flaw in research. in the majority of genres, readers look for emotion, not correct facts.

- the way you use swearwords is deliberate, fitting, and not for their own sake. you know of their potential to characterize in dialogue rather than employ them for emphasis. you also use swearwords you yourself would never utter because of that: you think from another character’s perspective.

- if you forget a detail, you go back to the paragraph in the draft you already wrote so far rather than look at your storyboard to find out. put differently: you know how your initial notes transform in context.

- a quality writer checks the clock not to find out how long they’ve worked on something, but does so to know when their favorite writing hour arrives. and even if your most inspired window is around 4AM, you honor it. seasoned writers found the perfect atmosphere and spot to write in. hell, even the best cardinal direction to sit in. the more experienced you are, the more you know how much of an effect even that shit has.

- you can use adverbs in many parts of a sentence, it doesn’t have a set place.

- a lot of thinking time goes into how exactly you describe what’s pretty, what’s ugly, what’s horrible and what’s positive. you think about judgement and appropriateness, and character perspective. particularly if you specialize in villains. how to paint something and the disparity between author morals and character morals is a big topic to you.

- the complaint you wanted to send on your feed becomes an advice post for other writers. experienced authors accept their role model function, don’t get stuck in a frustration phase because they want to solve problems, and turn their mistakes into lessons others don’t have to make. you don’t just share your stories, but the helpful tips that came out of it. it also pulls you out of the writing isolation which you know can be detrimental sometimes, so you know ways to act against it.

- your naturally don’t look at your word counter as often.

- people comment on the parts you indeed intended to make funny. you realize that it’s the exact sentence you yourself were chuckling at and what to conclude out of that observation. a quality writer shows their verbal dangerousness in feisty crack genres: transferring their own emotion to others with compelling control over the audience reaction. that means you know your readers well, too. that’s a great accomplishment and i congratulate.

- you start off strong. even if things build up later in the story, at the beginning you don’t mince words. a quality writer has a dead-sure hook.

- you find your phrase repetitions before you even start the editing. meaning, you’re so observant and working all over the meaning it already sticks out to you after glancing over the text as you write. 

- you walk the tightrope of what your readers want VS your vision. you realistically know how confident you are at a certain point. if you’re not confident, you admit it and make your vision bit-sized before going big. a confident writer emphasizes their own vision a little more but also doesn’t forget audience wishes, you get the idea. 

- mind, however: as a less confident quality writer (yes, those exist), if you adapt too much to outside wishes, losing your authenticity ironically becomes a turn-off. on the other hand, enforcing your own ideals might make you deaf to what your readership has recognized you write well already. i know, this is one of the hardest parts. sometimes, making yourself happy is diametrically opposed to gratifying readers to gratify yourself with their good feedback. and even if they are happy then, you still might not be, and you’re aware of that. it’s the question of searching for a genre you and others like sometimes. going without reader approval completely doesn’t work, a writer likes their rewards, embrace it.

- tell-tale sign. your interplay of sentences has an understated melody. if you pay attention to it, you know what i mean, and you are a quality writer.

Pond Diving - Imagineteamfreewill

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Meg

Age: 20s

Location: United States

URL: @imagineteamfreewill

Why did you choose your URL: I first started out structuring my stories as imagines, and the “Team Free Will” part was pretty obvious.

What inspired you to become a writer: Reading Supernatural fanfiction inspired me to get back into writing, but I’ve always enjoyed it. My mom likes to talk about how when I was in Kindergarten, I drew a picture about how I wanted to be an author and now I write in my free time.

How long have you been writing: According to tumblr, I’ve been writing fanfiction since 2014, but I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I’m a music teacher, so I sing and play piano, and I’ve played a bit of cello and tenor saxophone as well. I love movies, baking, sleeping, and a few video games.

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? I joined sometime around Season 8 or 9, I think. I don’t really remember!

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? I really enjoy Marvel and I’ve read a lot of Marvel fics, but I don’t write for them. I like a lot of TV shows (New Girl, Parks and Rec, The Good Place, Outlander, etc), but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom.

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? I love to write poetry. I had a poetry blog at truenorth-ink a while ago, but I haven’t updated it recently at all. Most of my poems aren’t published or posted anywhere.

Favorite published author: I love some of the early series by Rick Riordan and I also really enjoy poetry by Nikita Gill and Atticus. Lately, I've really been getting into Leigh Bardugo's books.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: I think "East" by Edith Pattou really affected me! I read it when I was in 6th-8th grade and I think about it often. I think it's something that really stuck with me and got me interested in fantasy books so much. I read it at least once a year.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc): I love angsty stuff, and most of the time I prefer it when it has some fluff mixed in. Straight fluff is often hard for me to read because I need something that’s more realistic for my own life and point of view. I also really like whump, but that can be a lot sometimes so it depends on my mood.

Favorite piece of your own writing: I don’t know if I have a favorite, but I loved writing Back to the Start (my mermaid series) and The Switch (a canon-divergent apocalyptic Reader x Sam series). Right now, I'm really enjoying my Consort series (a Goddess!Reader x Dean series). Creating my own rules in my own little universes is one of my favorite things to do, especially since I can’t always do whatever I want in real life.

Most underrated fic you have written: Empire. I loved getting to write Boyking!Sam because it was so different from my normal Sam stories and I did a lot of research for it. I’m pretty proud that the story never got too bloody or gory, too, so if you want some Boyking!Sam that’s not drenched in blood (for lack of a better term), I’m your girl!

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Probably Back to the Start or The Switch. I think those two series would be amazing to see with J2, the rest of the cast/characters I included, and special effects! There’s so much I’d want to explore with both of them that I didn’t put into the series.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @luci-in-trenchcoats, @sunlightdances, @supernaturalfreewill, @lipstickandwhiskey, @smol-and-grumpy, @percywinchester27, and @kaz2y5-imagines

Favorite fic from another writer:  I don’t think I could pick just one, but I’ve read all of @sunlightdances Dean fics multiple times. Her works got me through some pretty sucky times in my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of her writing! I’ve also been reading her Bucky fics recently and it’s made me love Marvel fics even more than before!​

Favorite character to write: Sam Winchester

Favorite Pairing to write: Reader x Sam (Reader x Dean is a close second)

Least favorite character to write (and why): I don’t like to write for Crowley or Gabriel. Gadreel is hard for me even though I can do it, but I don’t understand Crowley or Gabriel’s personalities at all because they’re literally so far away from mine.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? No, although @lipstickandwhiskey and @kaz2y5-imagines really encouraged me in my writing!​

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I would love to write a non-Supernatural work of fiction to publish, but that’s a long way off.

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: Oh Lord, I have so many! I have at least four series and two one shots in the works right now. I've also got over 100 one shots/series plotlines written out in the notes on my phone and various Google Docs.

What are you currently working on? I’m currently working on a Cinderella series, my Underworld series, my Puer Rex series, my Consort series, an Author!Sam fic, and an Author!Dean fic. I also write stories for my Words series now and again.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Reading other people’s work. The intense storylines of @luci-in-trenchcoats ’s fics have gotten me to be more bold with my writing and the emotions and description in @supernaturalfreewill’s works have inspired me to let my work have more feeling.

Best writing advice you've been given: Not necessarily writing advice, but I was once told that anything worth doing is worth doing at least a little bit every day. Think about it—if you wrote even just five minutes a day, how much better will you get over the course of a month? A year?

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Repetition of words and commas. So many commas and so many uses of the same word over and over again. It’s a hard balance between using the word and using synonyms without sounding like I’m sitting there googling synonyms for “said”. I also tend to spend a lot of time on things that I think are super important but aren’t really important in the long run. I’m wordy as hell and my writing would be dull if I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I do.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? A lot of times I have these ideas that I think would make a great series but I don’t think through them, so planning out the plot of a series (or even a standalone fic) beforehand is something I struggle with.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I would love to write more fics that have the characters dealing with severe mental disorders or that take place in a mental hospital, but I’m afraid that I’ll portray something wrong and solidify harmful stereotypes about what it’s like to deal with those things.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Honestly, just wanting to write things that I enjoy. Sometimes I get sick of reading other peoples’ stuff since it’s not exactly what I want, so I just write my own!

How do you deal with self doubt: Understand that sometimes it happens. You’ll doubt yourself—everybody does. If I’m doubting myself or my writing, I’ll take a break until I remember why I write. Then I’ll remember that yeah, writing for an audience is fun, but I write because I have cool ideas I want to explore, not because I need the attention or love of strangers. Lastly, I’ll reread my old fics, especially the ones I love, and then I’ll go back and edit old fics that I haven’t looked at in a while. That way I can see how I’ve improved and I don’t feel so terrible anymore! Reading my own fics is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine, and I’ll read through my masterlists every once a while just to remind myself of the things I’ve loved, where I’ve been, and where I’m going.

How do you deal with writer's block: Like I said, I reread old fics and edit old fics that I haven’t looked at in a while. Seeing the things I’ve done before always helps to focus me. I’ll also read other people’s stuff or talk about headcanons with some friends to try and find some inspiration.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: Lately I have been, but only because my periods of intense inspiration and productivity are getting farther and farther apart because of my job. I’ve found planning it out to be more and more helpful, especially for my series. A lot of times if I get a great idea, I’ll outline the whole plot or any significant details I want to put in that one shot/series so that I can come back to it whenever I have the time or I’m inspired for it again.

Do you have any weird writing habits: I write best in places that are unfamiliar to me or in places/times where I shouldn’t be writing. Class? Writing. Airport terminal? Writing. 4am when I have to be up at 6? Writing.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? Not that I remember! I feel like there’s probably been one or two over the years, but I probably just got upset about it with my friends for a while and then got over it.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic? A long time ago, when I was writing Back to the Start, I had one person who sent me asks for every single series update. I screenshotted them and saved them on my laptop. There’s one particular one where they say that they’re happier because of my writing and honestly, isn’t that what we all strive for? That people’s lives are better because of our stories? I’ve also had some pretty great friends recently who’ve made it a point to reblog and send asks/messages on all my works, which has been so meaningful that I never replied to the asks. They’re sitting in my inbox and I go through and reread them sometimes when I’m feeling down.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be?  ​Write down everything. If you come up with an amazing piece of dialogue, even if it’s just one sentence or one person talking, or if you come up with something you’d think would be a great title… WRITE IT DOWN. It doesn’t matter if it fits into whatever you’re currently writing or not, it’ll come in handy! I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through my idea list and found really obscure lines/titles/inspiration that didn’t make sense when I wrote them down, but are now exactly what I need to finish a fic. Even if you don’t end up using it, jotting down your ideas is still writing, and that’s good practice!

Today is my one-every-ten-day – decadly? – posting day, meaning I’m editing and queueing thoughtful posts I’ve been sitting on for a week, and also random posts I can spew out because I’m mad with the freedom of being able to jabber away on tumblr dot com again. I wrote a Take on f/f romance fiction and writer incentives that I ruefully endorse posting because I mean it a lot, even though having any opinion about queerness on the internet these days feels like putting on clown shoes and doing a jig in the town square...

...it’s 4am and I’ve already pulled on these clown shoes, so, hey! There’s this noticeable asymmetry still in how women in fandom write about female characters. Even, and sometimes especially, by progressive writers who are conscious of how sexism can show up in writing. Because the way they compensate, especially if the main characters are male and the female characters get B-plot amount of screentime, is by showing that the women like themselves, are romantically and sexually confident, have rich social lives, and a weirdly constrained set of personal problems. It’s like the focus is on making them as presentable as possible while they’re on screen, and the aggregate effect is a parade of bland, put-together women who have no weird opinions, serious problems, or major insecurities that can’t be fixed by just liking themselves more.

Prompt - "What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt." And someone from Ragnarok? (Preferably Laurits lmao) there's not enough content for this show tbh

Here you go! This took me way too long to edit (I wrote it in two or three hours, during a manic, sleepless spree at 4AM and it needed a lot of work to be decent enough to be posted)

I am still taking prompts. However, I lost the Prompt List this was taken from because according to Tumblr, it doesn’t exist in my blog anymore! Say hooray for a functioning website! But if you want to, you can still request stuff, freestyle this time! (probably for as long as quarantine lasts; I use these to warm up for my actual writing job, so they’re greatly appreciated)

Oh, and before I forget: IF YOU REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION I WILL RIP YOUR HEAD RIGHT OFF YOUR BODY thank you for understanding :)

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Prompt #1: (You can also read it on my AO3 page)

Concerned & upset: “What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt.”

Alternative Title: Magne does a Big Mad and it has Consequences. Laurits is just here to have a good time, to be honest.

Fandom: Ragnarök (Netflix 2020)

Pairings: None

Characters: Laurits Seier & Magne Seier, Ran Jutul (mentioned), Turid Seier (mentioned), Gry Isungset (mentioned), Fjor Jutul (mentioned), Vidar Jutul (mentioned)

Content Warnings: Some swearing, non-explicit violence, poorly executed pop culture references.

Length: 1550 words (even though AO3 says the contrary I swear it’s 1550 I deleted an entire sentence for it to fit perfectly don’t @ me I will stomp you to death with my hooves)

“What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt.”

The answer came just a second too late. His brother, as always, was lost deep in his own thoughts, oblivious to the outside world except for those occasions he deemed worthy of his attention. Laurits really, really could not understand this. Magne was opening his mouth to reply already, at a wearing speed if Laurits may say so himself, so he beat his brother to it, robbing him of a chance to explain himself.

“You really have changed since we came to Edda,” he said.

“I told you!” Magne protested. “I-”

“You’ve got stupider.”

“Hey!”

“Hey.”

Magne was silent again, but this time he replied in time to avoid one of his younger brother’s viper-like comments.

“… That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Laurits was being vicious with him today, for some reason. Unfairly so, thought Magne. “Isn’t it, truly, my brother dear?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright.”

“You’re being kind of a dick, you know.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t even hesitate to reply. Not once. Then again, he never did. Magne didn’t know what had got into him, but he knew that the blame was probably on his shoulders. At least from his brother’s perspective.

“Look… I tried explaining it to you, but if you’re going to keep on being an asshole about it and tell me that you don’t believe me… again…”

Laurits stared at him intently, waiting for him to finish the sentence for the first time since they sat down in their beautiful, precious, lavender blue living room. Kitchen? Lounge? The house was way too small to try and categorise every room in it. Not that there were many, anyway.

And it was godawfully horrible. The house, he meant. The floors creaked, the water pressure was practically non-existent, the wind came through the ancient wooden planks in the walls and the floor, through the carpet and the wallpaper, taking hold of him even when he curled up under the blankets, deep in his bones… the neighbourhood was pretty much a ghetto. And Magne still could not get along with his goddamn sentence. Laurits really needed a Valium at that point. Or a couple shots of vodka. And a cigarette.

“So?” He basically beseeched Magne to continue.

“So what?!”

���Well. Carry on.”

Wayward son.

This really wasn’t the time for that. Pay attention. Your brother’s talking. Or. Well. He’s trying to talk.

“You didn’t believe me the first time. And you don’t believe me now either.”

“Magne…”

“You said I couldn’t throw a hammer that far.”

“You wouldn’t survive being run over by a snowplough either. And yet. Here we are.”

“So, you believed that?”

“I never believe anything, Magne. Trust is for fools.”

“So?” This time was his older brother’s turn. Laurits found it funny for some reason. It probably wasn’t funny, but at that point he was on the brink of an anxiety attack, or a fit of laughing hysteria. Which may actually let loose some of the tension he’d been building up for the past few days, anyway, so that might be productive.

“See, this is why we’re different. You. You don’t look. You don’t pay attention. You don’t corroborate anything.” He said.

“And you do.”

“You bet your ass I do.”

“So what? That makes me an idiot?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I’m not your uh… headmistress.” He smirked at the thought. The memory, more like. Oh, what a glorious day. And everyone was looking. He was nervous, but confident. The anxiety made him feel alive. He couldn’t perform without it. And performing, that he did. He was born for it. The theatrics, the drama of it all… a mischief well made, a perfect execution.

Oh. He was going to be grounded forever.

Oh. It was so worth it.

Although, on second thought, not being on the Jutul’s good graces might present a problem or two in the future. Perhaps he was the idiot.

That was a problem for future him, however.

And, besides, if what Magne had told him was even remotely true, the stunt he pulled in front of the ever-so-charming people from the town of Edda (more like village, ugh) and their lovely headmistress was the least of his concerns.

He didn’t know how much Magne knew. He didn’t know how much he knew himself. He knew some stuff, of course, but it didn’t seem to be enough. All he knew is that the Jutuls knew more than them. Probably more than them combined and multiplied twice. And that was a problem.

Vidar laying unconscious, or probably dead (because Magne was too much of a wuss to check… either that or he really was way more fucked up by the fight than he claimed he was) was also, if he may say so himself, the very definition of a problem.

He could fix it though. He was always fixing his brother’s fuck-ups. His mother’s. He always fixed everyone’s fuck-ups. Fair enough, he caused more problems than the solved. But that didn’t matter.

He was a kid, for crying out loud. Or was he? Had he always been a kid? Was he still? Can you be a kid if you’re stripped of your childhood, with a dead father, a constantly moving, constantly changing housing situation, a detached mother and a brother as thick as a brick? He understood why Magne was the way he was. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t ended up that way as well.

“Hm.” He hummed, seeing Magne was not likely to continue the conversation. “So. Thor.”

“Yes. Thor.”

“Yes Thor.”

“That’s… that’s what I said.”

“And Gry also knows.”

“And Gry also knows.”

“How much does she know?”

“As much as you. Maybe less… maybe more. Whatever Fjor has told her.”

A pinch in his stomach. That was going to be a problem.

All he seemed to be getting were problems.

“Because they left together.” Laurits said, recounting what Magne had told him.

“Yeah.”

A thought crossed Laurits’ mind like a lightning bolt. If you’ll excuse the pun. Something to take his mind off the fact that Gry was leaving with Fjor. He really should not be feeling this jealous. He coughed slightly. The thought was gone. Crisis averted. For now.

“And Saxa?” He asked.

“What about her?” Magne stared at him in confusion.

“She was there, singing. And then I gave my speech.”

“So, she couldn’t have seen anything.”

“Neither could Ran. But I’m more worried about Saxa. She’s vicious.”

“You don’t think Ran could be mad about me killing her husband?” Magne. Please. For the love of anything you hold sacred. Don’t yell things like that. These walls are paper thin, for crying out loud.

“What I think doesn’t matter because we don’t know anything. But, as you’ve asked, I think Ran is more rational than her. I don’t think she would do anything to compromise her position with the people in town.”

“She’s already compromised.”

“She’s a-ah.” Laurits let out a small, incredulous chuckle. “Of course she’s already compromised. What did you do, you sick son of a bitch?”

“I may or may not have left a couple of those toxic kegs in front of the police station.”

“I may or may not be surprised that you were actually right about that.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re right: I’m not. This town sucks. But I stand by what I said: you really need to quit the Isoldecologist act.”

Magne did not reply.

“Look. The kegs are irrelevant. Ran is not tied to Jutul industries the way Vidar is. Was. May still be.” Continued Laurits.

“But the rumour…”

“Fair point. But still, she may not be legally tied to them.”

“People talk…”

“Shit. Most people talk shit. But yes, as I said, you’ve got a point. She has to keep her reputation, after all…” That was an interesting turn of events.

“So, what do we do?”

“We? Why are you including me?”

“Well, I just told you all this. You’re not just going to sit there and do nothing, are you?” Magne frowned.

But he was right. Laurits was tired of doing nothing. He had done nothing long enough. That situation had changed a few hours ago, actually. And he suposed he could not stand idle for any longer.

“Fine. We will think of something once you get rid of those clothes, shower, and mum comes home and we pretend nothing has happened. You smell like a poorly cooked barbeque.”

Magne let out a big, deep sigh. “Okay.”

“… I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“What for?”

“Um. Electrocuting yourself, for starters.”

“That wasn’t me, that was-”

“Thor. Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What if you weren’t, though. What if you were wrong? You could’ve got hurt.”

“You already said that.”

“And you’ll hear it again!” He said, triumphantly raising his fist in the air. Magne, as usual, just stared at him. Laurits let out his breath, defeatedly. He really couldn’t do anything fun in this house, no one understood pop culture references.

“Look,” he said. “Just go shower. Mum will yell at you for a bit. We’ll have dinner. She’ll take her usual spot in front of the TV, sulk for a while, pass out, and then we can talk. I got to make a few calls.”

All is Fair in Love and War

Summary: Bucky was a successful photographer and Steve was an anxiety ridden starving artist that has given up. 

Warning: Depression, anxiety, toxic relationship, smut (18+ only) upcoming chapters. 

Bucky Barnes was a successful photographer that was being used for magazines all over the world. He had built his business from the ground up. When he wasn’t in work mode, he was with the most amazing guy that made him super happy.

Steve Rogers was a starving artist. He had a passion for drawing but that always fell through. He was attempting to write some novels and then he hit a hard writers block. He found that he could only write if he wrote with other people. Steve started to role play with others online using characters he created. When he wasn’t role playing, he was with the best guy that made him smile.

 Bucky had come home after a difficult shoot. He wanted to vent about how much divas the models were and wanted Steve to be on his side. “Honey, I’m home,” Bucky chimed.

“Hey babe, how was work,” Steve asked.

“Ugh, the model was like little blood sucking dragons today. It was so messed up no matter what I did I couldn’t make anyone happy today,” Bucky slowly started to get undressed.

“Babe, I am sure it wasn’t that bad. You always complain about how much your job sucks but you love having your own business,” Steve reprimanded.

Bucky was shocked that Steve would speak to him like this. “I had a fucking bad day. I needed to vent is it so bad that I wanted to vent to my hubby,” Bucky angrily responded.

Steve got quiet and just sat there. Bucky knew he wasn’t going to get a response. Bucky ended up grabbing his laptop and book he was reading and curled up on the couch while Steve watched some show about survival. Bucky was getting bored of the same bullshit show after bullshit show. He felt like he wasn’t allowed to watch anything he wanted to anymore unless Steve wasn’t engaged in watching TV at all.

Bucky plugged his headphones into his computer and put on music as he started to edit photos from when he was just walking the city a few weeks back. He was so focused on what he was doing he didn’t notice Steve trying to get his attention.

Steve started to talk with Bucky and Bucky wasn’t responding. Steve thought maybe that is what I get for getting quiet on him. Steve didn’t even bother to look to see if Bucky had his headphones on. Steve flipped Bucky off.

“What was that for,” Bucky asked as he slid off his headphones.

“You weren’t listening to me or paying attention to me,” Steve chided. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“What did you do today Stevie,” Bucky mentioned.

Steve launched into a tirade about some bullshit that was roleplay related. “Well I was talking with Sharon. We ended up fighting and I cried for a while. We still have some unresolved issues,” Steve explained.

“Yeah, I get that. Miss communication sucks,” Bucky motioned through the conversation. Bucky had to act interested otherwise Steve would get mad. Bucky felt like he was a child and Steve was the parent.

There was a knock at the door as a package arrived. Bucky went to go get it. He smiled when he saw it because he knew it was the collectable from his favorite movie growing up as a kid.

“What the hell did you buy now Buck,” Steve scolded.

“Just a collectable that I can’t find anywhere for The Wizard of Oz,” Bucky was proud of his find.

“You always buy stupid shit. We have too much shit as it is. I feel like everyday you have a package being delivered and you don’t ask me about it,” Steve was getting angrier.

“Why should I consult you. Its my money I work hard for. Its not like you bring in anything. You haven’t had an income for 5 years. You stopped going to school. You never looked for a job. You buy stupid virtual shit for your games on your computer or phone but I buy what I want with my money and I get yelled at,” Bucky reacted. Steve stared at him in shock.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You know I am super insecure. I get sick super easy and am in pain all the time. I thought you supported me,” Steve stunned responded.

Bucky was furious. “Let’s talk about the real elephant in the room. I want to have a child and you don’t. You don’t want to be a parent. You don’t want to expand our family. Fuck, Steve we haven’t had sex in 5 years. I have to masturbate if I want to get off. Do you even love me anymore,” Bucky asked bluntly? He was sick of skirting the issues they never addressed anymore. They had stopped communicating. Bucky ended up throwing himself into work and Steve threw himself into roleplaying.

Steve whispered, “Buck, I am sorry I don’t want what you want. I want you to have that but you need to still be in my life. What if we opened up our marriage and you were able to date women to be able to have a girlfriend that would have a kid with you and raise it with you. I don’t want to be known as its parent Buck. I still love you.”

Bucky broke down and cried. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It felt like Steve was breaking up with him. Bucky curled up in their bed and just continued to wallow in what felt like Steve and his relationship ending. Bucky cried himself to sleep.

Steve came into the bedroom after hours of being online and roleplaying it was 4am. Bucky was sprawled on the bed. Steve huffed because he had very little room on the bed. Bucky was curled up with a wolf stuffed animal. Bucky had looked like he had been through hell. Steve climbed into bed and tried to get comfortable. He ended up pushing at Bucky until Bucky turned and gave him some room on the bed. Bucky had turned away from Steve and whimpered like he was still crying. Steve felt like he didn’t know Bucky anymore. Bucky wanted kids and a family while Steve didn’t. Steve was someone who enjoyed kids when they weren’t his own. Steve never pictured himself as a parent. He knew Bucky wanted a family and the pitter patter of little feet running throughout their house but Steve didn’t after Bucky’s accident. Steve turned away from Bucky and tried to sleep.

 Bucky stretched and blinked awake. He felt like he had been hit by a truck and then remembered the conversation with Steve from the night before. He immediately fell into the dark rut. He saw himself having a life with Steve and raising a family together. After that last argument Bucky only saw himself raising a child by himself and Steve isn’t in the picture. Bucky choked off a sob. Bucky looked around for Steve and he was no where to be found. Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. He was thinking how he had wasted the last 5 years of his life. Maybe when Steve tried to break up with him 5 years ago, he should have just accepted and moved on. Bucky slowly got out of bed and shrugged on sweats. He wasn’t going to work today at all. Bucky had a headache from all the crying.

Bucky had a blanket wrapped around him as he made his way to the living room. Bucky shuffled though each moment. He didn’t know how to talk to Steve without crying or wanting to hit him. Bucky sank down on the couch and cocooned himself. He flipped on the tv and turned on some show the was mindless. Bucky wasn’t really paying attention to it. He was just staring at the tv.

Steve had wondered out from the office he created so he can roleplay in silence. Steve saw Bucky just sitting there looking like a shell of a person. “Good Morning Buck,” Steve said softly.

Bucky responded on autopilot, “Good Morning Stevie.” Steve wasn’t thrilled to see Buck so broken.

“Buck are you okay,” Steve asked.

Bucky blinked, “I am fucking fantastic Stevie.”

Steve heard the sarcasm in Bucky’s voice. “You don’t have to be rude,” Steve responded coldly.

Bucky wrapped the blanket around himself tighter and hung his head. Bucky got quiet and turned the volume on the tv up. Steve got angry and shut down. Steve clenched his jaw and clenched his fists. This had become normal for them over the last few years. Bucky wasn’t confident in himself anymore. Every time his confidence started to come back Steve cut him down. They kicked each other down without meaning too.

Bucky couldn’t take the tension anymore and shut off the tv and got up. Steve was still angry and lashed out verbally.

“Where do you think you are going,” Steve yelled.

Bucky sniffled, “I am going to the bedroom to help me get back into the right frame of mind.”

“Well, I am going out,” Steve grabbed the keys and stormed out of the house.

Bucky collapsed back on the couch crying. He didn’t want to fight with Steve. He wanted to go back to what they had when they first got together. Bucky grabbed a pen and some paper to write out his feelings. He was bawling and could barely see as he poured his heart out onto the paper. He wanted Steve to know how he felt and what he was going through mentally. Bucky wanted to raise a family and he wanted to convince Steve that he needed it. He hoped Steve would be okay with it and allow him to have at least one child. Bucky wanted to have the child be biologically his so he would need to use a surrogate. Bucky felt so raw and exhausted as the hours passed. He had been writing for 2 hours and Steve still wasn’t back yet. Bucky felt so tired. He picked himself off the couch after leaving the letter to Steve on the counter. Bucky needed to sleep. Bucky didn’t both getting changed. He laid down in bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Tags: @buckmesideways22​ @oleanderbat , @buckyzgurl , @scarletsoldierrr , @kombatfather1796

'You should sleep'

Stray Kids Chan x feminine! dance major! reader

In which you run into a guy on campus.

Genre: fluff, strangers to lovers

Warnings: minor cursing

Authors Note: I'm really sorry that this is so late but when I wrote it I wasn't sure if I should post it or not.

It was a week before the christmas performances in college

The dance and music majors were collaborating in small groups and you had the luck to be with three of your friends from the dance major in a team

Minho, Hyunjin and Felix were your partners for the performance while the three most popular music major students were the producers of the song for your team

You only knew two of them personally, Changbin and Jisung. Chan seemed untouchable for you so you didn't ever bother to talk to him.

So the seven of you met after your classes to finally start working on your performance. "Chan already has some unused recorded songs to use for the performance. How about something more sexy since y/n is the only girl and we can make the theme of the performance into something more seductive you know? Like Minho and Hyunjin and Felix are gonna try to win her heart but she refuses in a sexy way.", Jisung spits out. "It's Christmas, not your puberty fantasies.", Minho smacks his head. "But I think it would be something cool to be honest. It could be something more refreshing to all the Christmas-themed performances. I heard from other groups that they're all gonna do similar Christmas performances so something like that would be cool. However, we should make the concept seem like a normal Christmas party and then the seduction starts, you know?", Jisung explained.

"Are you okay with something like that, y/n?", Chan asked you and you shrugged. "I mean it would be cool but I don't know what everyone else would think since so many parents are gonna be there and this is meant to bring everyone joy and not make everyone horny.", you explained and crossed your arms with a big sigh on your chest.

Hyunjins laugh filled the practice room and after a few more minutes of planning the theme of your performance, you all agreed to still make a performance about winning you heart, but not sexy

Chan and Changbin were searching for the perfect song on Chans laptop, while you and your fellow dancers started stretching, Jisung standing next to you. "Yoooo, should we rap on the stage in the background while you perform?!", he suddenly shouted. Chan looked up from the screen and looked over to him: "How about you shut up for once." A bottle flew across the room and bounced from the wall to your back, making you stumble forward while you were trying to do splits. "What the fuck.", you said and looked around only to see a shocked Chan and a happy Jisung. "I'm so sorry!", Chan shouted to you.

You only made a thumbs up and started stretching again. Suddenly, loud music filled the room. "Here! Guys! Listen to it! It's gonna fit perfectly!", Changbin said.

Everyone agreed and you started working on the dance with Minho, Hyunjin and Felix while the producing trio made their way into Chans recording studio to work on the song and correct any mistakes and record Changbins and Jisungs parts or even rewrite some lyrics

"What do you think of Chan? I know that you don't really know him so I really wanna know your thoughts on him.", Felix said, sitting down next to you and drinking his water. "He seems nice. I think he's also really hardworking because he has a whole folder with so many songs that he already recorded, but he shouldn't have thrown the bottle, that was betrayal.", you said, the last part as a joke. "Come on, as if you're gonna be salty about the bottle.", Felix said, not understanding you joke. "That was a joke, asshead!", you said and flicked his head.

After a few more hours of trying to make a choreography with the boys, you went home, stopping by at a café

When you were in the line you looked around in the café a bit and spotted Chan sitting at a table in the far back, almost falling asleep infront of his laptop

You ordered a cup of coffee and and a cup of tea for you and started walking into Chans direction, heart beating faster than usually. You put the cup of coffee next to his arm, causing him to look uo curiously. "Oh, hi... I- uh didn't-" - "Drink up, it's on me. You're almost falling asleep.", you said with a grin and sat down infront of him, taking a sip of your tea.

"Thanks, y/n.", he said and took a sip of the coffee. "What are you doing?", you asked. "Oh, uh, only trying to edit the song perfectly and also trying to write lyrics.", he explained and smiled at you a bit. "You know, you shouldn't overwork yourself. I think you should go home and sleep early. Our teachers tell us how to take care of our bodies in order to show our best on stage. They also explain to us how to notice what kind of resting some people need and you need sleep.", you explained, taking a sip of tea again.

"But the performance... I can't just rest if something this big is coming up.", he said and sighed, masaging his temples. "Yes Chan, you can. You already have it produced and have a whole week to work on it with two other people. I always go a bit earlier to bed to get enough rest. My brain works so much better when I have enough sleep. Just try it.", you said, worry taking over your expressions. You have the need to squeeze his hand but refuse, you barely know each other.

You take one last sip of your tea and stand up. "Seriously, go to sleep earlier. You're gonna see how much more work you get done than working until late hours.", you said and give him a small smile. "Wait, I'll bring you home.", he said and stood up, packing his things and drinking the last bit of his coffee.

You both started walking to your small studio apartment, talking and finding out how funny he was. Your heart beating fast when he laughed. It was cold and you started shivering, cursing at yourself for not bringing a jacket with you and walking out of the building in a hoodie and pants with holes on your knees.

Chan noticed and gave you his jacket. "No, Chan, you're gonna have a cold!", you protested and wanted to give him his jacket back. "I don't care. You're gonna have a cold if you don't wear it and we need you. I can always lipsync, you have to perform.", he said and put his hands on your shoulder, smiling when he saw your face.

"Thanks Chan.", you said.

It was the performance day. Everyone thought it would be a great idea if you would do a dress rehearsal, so here you were, dressed in a red dress while Minho, Felix and Hyunjin dressed in Christmas sweaters and black pants. Chan was dressed as santa while Changbin and Jisung were dresses as rudolphs.

You saw Chan at the café since that other day more often. After your rehearsals with the boys to be exact. You loved spending your time with him, he was so nice and hardworking. Whenever you were around him, his heart started beating really fast and his cheeks got red when you touched his hand or when you just smiled. The same with you. You loved every second spending with him.

After the performance which you guys slayed btw you looked amazing honey Chan invited you to his studio. You agreed, not wanting to spend your time in a big room filled with drunk people and loud music. The afterparties were the worst in your opinion so you were glad that Chan remembered your little secret and invited you to his studio.

You arrived in his little apartment. His studio was a small room that was actually supposed to be a guest room or just a second bedroom but Chan made it look like a professional recording studio.

The both of you were talking a lot and after a while the sleep took over you.

Chan let you sleep on the couch you originally sat in and started working on a song again, keeping the volume quiet in order to not wake you up.

After a two hour nap you woke up. The room was only lit up by the screen of the computer and quiet melodies filled the room. You stood up and put your hands around Chans shoulders from behind, making him stop breathing for a second and a blush forming on his cheeks. "Chan, sleep. It's 4am.", you mumbled into the back of his neck with a tired voice and eyes closed. "Y/n, I'm fine, really.", he said with a raspy voice, the tiredness in his voice noticeable. He turned his chair to you and you collapsed on his lap, your arms still on his shoulders. "Chan, please. I want you to rest. You need sleep. You worked so hard on this song even though I told you to rest enough. Just please, come and sleep with me. I don't want you to overwork yourself.", you begged him, face hiding in his chest.

Chan sighed and picked you up in bride style, taking you to his bedroom. Just when he was about to leave, you took his hand in yours and said: "Chan stop. Come here and sleep." - "Don't worry princess, I'll just give you a shirt and I'll turn off my computer.", he whispered back and squeezed your hand.

You changed into the big shirt he gave you and sat on the bed again. After a few minutes Chan came back in some sweatpants and a shirt. He layed down next to you and put an arm around you.

"Chan?"

"Hm?

"I love you."

"I love you too, princess."

Yu Son of a Bi– (Christian Yu x Reader)

Warning: Language + this is my first request, and I didn’t know who tf Christian was before I got that cute lil mail from an anon xo

Angst x It’s 4am for me and I’m trying my best

Christian scowled as you smiled for the camera, posing cheekily as the behind-the-scene VJ moved around the room, capturing the happenings of all that goes on when creating a music video.

You were waiting for the crew to finish organizing the set and every so often you moved to help one of the stage directors with lifting props, only to be scolded by your coordi each time; ‘Yah, be careful of your hair! Watch out for your lipstick! This girl drives me crazy,’ she complained halfheartedly as you tried to help the crew as much as possible, not able to sit back and watch them struggle.

You’d never worked with Christian before, and for good reason.

Your man was good at what he did and created aesthetic videos that were hard to surpass – but boy did he have a temper when it came to you.

Especially when it came to you in little clothing and other men.

And yet here you were, featuring in a music video with Jay Park, where the two of you had created and composed a song all about the things Christian hated thinking of you doing when it came to it being about someone who wasn’t him.

Sex, love, and more sex.

Moving out of the way of the stage crew, you joined Christian who had now resigned to sitting in his ‘director’s chair’ which was really a fancy office chair that he usually loved to roll around on.

You asked cheerfully, ‘Are you alright?’

Placing his phone down, he looked up at you with a pout and a crease between his eyebrows that told you he was frustrated, ‘We haven’t even begun, and I’m angry,’ Christian whined.

‘It’s just a music video,’ you remind him, placing your hands on his knees for balance as you crouched in front of him, ‘And you know that nothing will happen. You’re the director! You literally planned each scene with Jay!’

He responded with a ‘hmph’ and let his hands rest on yours.

You were still safely wrapped up in your dressing gown, hiding the outfit below until it was time to shoot – whilst Christian had been a part of the overall theme and planning of the video, he had trusted and allowed the coordi’s to dress you in whatever they deemed right to fit the role you would be playing.

In other words, you were dressed scantily, and Christian was going to explode once filming began.

You just prayed that he would keep his cool until after the scene was done, and the crew wasn’t around to see him lose his mind.

After a few moments, Jay walked into the room and greeted everyone happily before approaching you with a huge grin, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he and Christian greeted one another.

Jay was shirtless, which was no surprise to anyone, and he wore a pair of black jeans and combat boots to match.

He was playing the bad guy today – the one who had led you astray.

His hair was slicked back and dishevelled, reminding you just how handsome he was.

‘형님,’ Christian bowed, his eyes warily glancing at his arm wrapped around you, ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yeah. This is the pink-room scene right?’ Jay asked, turning back to look at the set where a huge bed awaited you both as well as a series of different props, including the bottle of ‘drugs’ that Jay was meant to feed you during one of the scenes.

Christian nodded, and went into explaining the scene and the vision he had for it, whilst you and Jay nodded in understanding.

Something erotic, but obviously toxic – a lust filled relationship.

You could tell by the way that he’d said it that he was dreading to see this music video through to the end – he was jealous enough when it came to you fan-girling over artists, yet alone actually working with them.

Once Jay had left to get himself acquainted with the set, you pulled Christian to the side and asked quietly, ‘Will you be okay doing this?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ he answered hastily, his arms wrapped around your waist, ‘We’re professionals. It’s just acting right?’

You nodded and smiled up at him, ‘Let’s work hard, huh?’

Smiling, Christian bends and kisses your lips lightly, ‘Mm, let’s work hard baby.’

As you pulled apart, you could hear your coordi from across the room, ‘YAH! CAREFUL!’

~*~

Working hard was easier said than done.

As soon as the music started up and you’d dropped the robe, the first thing you heard was Christian curse from behind his screen and yell cut, causing the entire crew to look around in confusion seeing as they hadn’t even begun rolling, whilst Jay lay back on the bed trying to hold back his laughter, knowing from the many warnings you’d given him, that this might happen.

Christian stormed towards you with the look of hell on his face and you almost took a step back before deciding against it.

‘Yah, what the hell is this?’ he asked angrily, pointing at the white lace bodice one-piece you wore, along with a pair of white strapped heels, ‘Who the hell is your coordi?’

‘Christian,’ you murmur, ignoring the crew who tried to busy themselves from the awkwardness of his sudden tantrum, ‘We need to shoot these scenes so that everyone can go home…’

‘I don’t care about that,’ Christian argues in a low tone, ‘Why the hell are you wearing something so revealing?’

You scratched the back of your neck and looked over at Ji-hyo언니, who had spent a long time discussing with you what you were wanting to capture within each scene, and how you would do so, instantly feeling bad for her.

‘Christian. It’s not like this is your first time doing a scene with outfits like this,’ you tell him, a sense of urgency in your voice – the more time you wasted, the more time the crew would spend on site, rather than at their own homes.

‘That’s with people who aren’t my girlfriend! It’s different!’

‘Yah. We’re professionals first,’ you remind him, ‘let’s just do these scenes and wrap up the shooting quickly, then we can argue all we want, huh?’

Christian groaned but turned around, bowing apologetically at his team whilst you did the same before taking place on the bed and waiting for the cameras to start rolling.

~*~

You didn’t even have to express how annoyed you were by time shooting came to an end.

Christian had complained non-stop at every chance he could get.

Your make-up was too heavy, your outfits showed too much skin, you were dancing too sexily.

‘Baby,’ Christian began as he leaned against the wall of the dressing room, watching you remove the last lot of make-up for the day. You held your hand up to stop him from speaking, not daring to open your mouth.

Why?

Because you knew that the only thing that would come out was a string of curse words.

This man, you thought, would be the death of you.

‘At least let me apolog–,’

‘Nine hours, Christian,’ you told him quietly, turning to look at him from your seat, ‘We spent nine hours trying to get the scenes done, all because you couldn’t control your anger!’ you tell him angrily.

‘I know and I’m sor–,’ Christian started, only for you to cut him off by throwing a ball of scrunched up tissues at him.

‘Your poor staff! They’re exhausted as it is! They probably hate you after today! It would have been different if there were real issues on set, like the equipment not working, but no! You spent half of the time stopping and starting the scenes when it got too much for you to handle!’

‘Jay fed you a fucking vitamin with his tongue!’ Christian argues in defence, ‘And you licked it off like it was a lollipop!’

‘You literally wrote that in the screen play!’ you yell at him, incredulous, ‘We followed your vision of the music video!’

‘And his lips touched yours!’ Christian continued, his hands flying into the air, showing his frustration.

‘You told us to act natural! Like two lovers in a sex-based relationship!’ you argue back, pulling your hair into a messy bun and straightening out the comfortable hoodie you wore.

‘Yeah, well you didn’t have to look like you enjoyed it so much!’

You glared at him, ‘How am I supposed to enjoy anything when you’re in the background cursing up a storm! Ji-hyo 언니 is a devout Christian! You practically turned her into a sinner with that mouth of yours!’

‘I’ll show you what other sins this mouth can commit!’ Christian counters, his eyes ablaze.

‘Not for the next week you won’t!’ you inform him, pushing past him to get to the exit.

Storming down the corridor, you found yourself surrounded by many of the staff who were still in the studio set, cleaning up the props and getting the room ready to be used for the next day.

You apologized again, bowing low, knowing that they had most likely just heard you arguing with Christian, as well as for the long day you’d just put them through.

Members of the crew chuckled and assured you that it was okay but it didn’t push your guilt away. You could feel Christian’s eyes on you as you moved to help clean up, picking up different props and following the lead of the others, ignoring him as you went.

After another hour, the set was finally packed down, and the remaining set crew could leave.

As they left, you promised to buy them all dinner and apologized for what seemed like the millionth time.

The hour had given you time to calm down, and you hoped it stayed that way.

You really didn’t have the energy to fight with Christian any more.

Christian had moved to his personal studio where he completed a majority of his editing, and was where you found yourself standing, watching him as he looked through the series of scenes, with yours and Jay’s song on in the background.

The studio was like your second home – you’d spent plenty of nights curled up on the couch whilst Christian worked tirelessly. 

This place had good memories for you.

You could tell from the way his shoulders were relaxed that he too, had calmed down, but you thought it was best to leave him for a while longer.

Even when you were fighting, you still had the need to be close to him, and knowing Christian, he probably felt the same.

Laying on the familiar couch that sat against the back wall that faced Christian’s back, you allowed the clicking of the computer mouse lull you to sleep.

It wasn’t until late into the night that Christian woke you up as he lay down on the couch with you, his arms wrapping around you and his leg folding over yours.

You sighed heavily, blinking away some of the tiredness as Christian cleared his throat.

‘I made it hard for you today, didn’t I?’ Christian stated rather than questioned.

‘I’m never working with you again,’ you tell him honestly, ‘You’re an amazing director and you have an incredible talent in doing what you do, but I am never doing this again.’

‘I’ll apologize to Jay tomorrow,’ Christian responds with a sigh, ‘And I’ll pay for the crew to go out for dinner.’

‘Let’s go halves. They had such a hard day today,’ you tell him with a frown, ‘They deserve trays and trays of meat.’

Christian hummed in agreement, kissing your forehead as you two settled in, with him continuing to apologize for his behaviour.

It wasn’t until you were nearly asleep that Christian squirmed, ‘You’re going to kill me for saying this after the day we’ve just had,’ Christian told you warily, ‘but the scenes came out amazing and exactly as what I envisioned.’

It happened in an instant.

One minute he was cuddling you like a koala, and the next he was on the floor after receiving a power kick from you.

‘You son of a bi–,’ you started, glaring down at him on the floor as he chuckled guiltily.

‘Sorry, baby.’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble, turning away from him, ‘You can sleep on the floor.’

Masterlist 

11/11/11 Tag Game: Rounds 14 and 15! (I think. I’m bad at math.)

Back at it again, folks! Thank you @ofvisitorsthefairest and @fictionshewrote for the tags!

I think I’m gonna stop counting them after these. I can’t keep the numbers straight.

Rules: Answer the 11 questions from whoever tagged you, then made up 11 of your own questions and tag 11 people.

Bilbo Taggins: @starlitesymphony​, @hannahs-creations​, @toboldlywrite​, @quilloftheclouds​, @myreidola​, @minusfractions​, @inexorableblob​,  @ink-flavored​, @misfitgirlwrites​, @writinginslowmotion​, @aurumni-writes​

If you like these questions, by all means, answer them! And tag me so I can see!

My Questions:

Make a Mary Sue in your story’s world! What powers do they have, if any? How are they better than everyone else? What is their tortured past that is a blessing but also a curse? What kind of unusual eyes do they have? Which member of nobility/royalty/god/vampire/demon is their parent?

Which would your OCs choose: Legolas or Aragorn? Which would you choose?

What’s your favorite trick to pull on readers?

If you were to teach a creative writing class, what books would be on your syllabus?

What’s your opinion on semicolons?

What’s your favorite movie, based on its story?

What’s the dumbest thing your character(s) have ever done? What’s the dumbest thing they could do?

What one item could you introduce to your story to completely derail the plot? Where would it go from there?

What’s your favorite MacGuffin?

How do you name your characters and locations? 

How have your hobbies and passions influenced your writing/how you write?

My answers under the cut!

@ofvisitorsthefairest‘s Questions:

1. Does music inspire you to write?

Not unless I’m doing songfics as a warm-up or something. I usually use it as a tone/mood guard rail as I’m writing. That’s why I make story/character playlists! They keep me on track, especially if I’m revisiting a scene I haven’t thought about in a while.

2. Which WIP did you learn the most from writing?

My Romanian story, for sure. I had the help of my thesis director/mentor with that one, thank God. I learned how to establish a scene quickly, how to do flashbacks like other people do them, how to incorporate languages without messing up the pace or losing the reader, and how to write historical things. 

I learned a whole lot about what not to do from my Story That Shall Not Be Named Because It Bad, too. 

3. Is there something your OC should be afraid of that they aren’t?

I think Gemma should be more afraid of being found out than she is. I mean, she’s technically a witch (an unregistered magic practitioner, because of her potion-making which is classified as pseudo-magic) who has no social security number, lives in secret, and does illegal internet things. She could get into some serious trouble. There are even more nasty consequences that I can’t reveal because spoilers, but let’s just say she has no idea they could happen and they ain’t pretty.

4. Is there something they don’t need to fear, yet do? Irrational phobias?

Yep! It’s one of the cores of her character. She’s afraid of being left alone, abandoned, kept out of her found family. Being used for her skills and ignored as a person. I don’t think they’re irrational, but she has never listened when people tell her not to be afraid of those things.

5. Do you prefer reading physical books or e-books?

Physical books, by far. E-books for my college student wallet, though. They saved me when I didn’t have time to order books, too. I have a crazy good “where in the physical book did this event happen” memory. Like, I can name an event and flip to the page very quickly based on how far into the book it was. Very handy for citations. And I love the feel/smell of a book in my hands and all the contorting I do when I read one (seriously, I almost always end up upside down or completely sideways in a chair).

6. What’s some details of your world building that you like?

All the little things! Academic internet piracy network to help witches, how magic interacts with daily life, tweaking folklore to fit story lore, 

7. Have you ever created a magic system? What was it like?

Oh, boy! Yes, I have made several. My favorite might be the one from my TV show where the only magic is healing/life manipulation magic. The way it works is that when healers do their thing, they physically take on their patient’s injuries. If you have a broken arm, now the healer has a broken arm. Works with diseases, too. Here’s the snippet from the Show Deck about it:

In the darkest corners and dingiest alleys, magic pulses through the veins of the downtrodden. Seen as evil and taboo, magic operates by the law of an eye for an eye, a life for a life. Sacrifice fuels these dark arts, and those who manipulate them are covered in scars and never-healed wounds. Healers operate in the shadows and lead short lives, field medics are scarce, and the king has two sorcerers by his side at all times, bound by a blood contract to give their lives in his name.

Here’s a link to some posts about my magic system in my current WIP, Heart to Heart! I made magic types based on different sciences and artistic disciplines! 

We’ve got astronomy/astrology, carving/linguistics/physical art/symbology, politics/making powerful friends/handshakes/marketing/political science, geology/archaeology/product design. Also some secret types that involve psychology, sound design/sound engineering, and water treatment/environmental science/architecture.

There are also pseudo-magical professions that blend with tech and science, like potion making!

Here’s a decent explanation of how magic works in the world of H2H.

Here’s a joke I made about my magic system.

Here’s the Magical Aptitude quiz I made that tells you more about the magic types in H2H.

/end ramble

8. What was your first favorite book?

I’m 90% sure it was the American Revolution Magic Tree House book. Or one of those books. They were the best.

9. What time of day are you most motivated to write?

7pm-4am. Yep, I hate it. I’m trying to push it closer to 2pm-9pm but it’s tough.

10. If you could step into the shoes of one of your characters for a day, which one would you pick?

If we’re talkin’ H2H characters, I honestly would not have a preference. Everyone in that story is pretty dang chill. If I had to choose, I’d go with Jill or Treena. They’re both artists and artisans who have cool houses and great friends.

11. What are some little quirks you like to give characters? Ex: a lot of mine have freckles Just Because.

There are Many. A lot of my characters have curly hair because I have curly hair. Many of them are left handed (especially my sword-wielding ones). A bunch of them have scars. A lot of them know curse words in other languages. 

@fictionshewrote‘s Questions:

1. What do you want to see more of in the book world? (more rep, more of a specific genre, etc)

I have a rant about this, but to sum up: fewer straight white men dominating publishing, more open acceptance for new voices and ideas, less focus on easy-sell formulaic stories, less prejudice against certain genres... the list goes on. Also, in the publishing world, fewer submission fees and more journals that pay.

2. What time of day are you most productive writing-wise?

Answered above! Evenings and nights. It’s starting to shift to late afternon to late evening though, which is a nice change.

3. Do you have a designated space where you write?

Nope! I usually use my laptop wherever I can sit down or stand without my back screaming at me. I hate writing on my phone, though. Too small, too many typos.

4. What kind of platforms/programs/tools do you use to write? (Word, notebooks, Google Docs, Scrivener, etc)

Scrivener! It’s so helpful for my disorganized ass. I only use Word for academic papers now. When I’m having trouble getting ideas out of my brain, I write by hand in a hard back spiral notebook. I can’t stand writing in journals without spirals. 

5. Hardcover or paperback?

I like both. When I read, I sit weird and hardcovers prevent the pages from bending, but paperbacks are good for traveling with. And they’re cheaper. But hardcovers are so pretty... 

6. What’s your favorite story trope? Are you using it in your wip(s)?

There are a lot of tropes and I can never pick just one. I like friends to lovers, almost everything in LoTR and all those high fantasy things, complicated political/family dynamics, etc. I don’t typically like to write the same things I like to read, though. I have trouble naming them sometimes, but I know I use a bunch of them. 

7. If you had to send your favorite OC on a blind date with a character from someone else’s book, who would that character be and why?

Oh boy. I’m watching the Lord of the Rings extended editions right now, but I’ll try not to be biased.

If I were trying to be funny, I’d set Fred up with Aziraphale from Good Omens. I feel like they could have some good weird conversations.

Gemma and Nicholas Flamel from The Alchemist would be fun, too. Or Oz and Boromir. 

8. Do you write scenes in order or out of order?

I like writing them in order, but sometimes that doesn’t work out like I want it to. Now it really depends on the story. I wrote the first part of AOPC out of order and it messed with my head a little, so I’m trying not to do it for my longer projects. My short stories are always written one and done, in chronological order, usually. Especially the ones under 2k words. WYSiOaD was written in order, then switched around to fix the flow and plot.

9. If your favorite OC was a superhero, what would their superpower be? (assuming, of course, they aren’t a superhero to begin with!)

I do have superhero/villain characters! Here’s some others, though:

Gemma - Empathy / Transferable Rapid Healing and/or Regeneration

Oz - Truesight / Invulnerability

Mel - Animal Friendship or Shapeshifting / Conditional Foresight

Fred - Domino’s luck power but backwards and framed like happy accidents that always seem to work in his favor. So... Mr. Magoo.

Teva - Earth sculpting or something like earthbending

10. Describe your ideal writing session.

I sit and I write a whole short story in one hit. Then I wait and edit another day. 

I am a simple bean.

11. What do you think would turn your protagonist into a villain?

Seeing what was lost and having it torn away forever before she gets to claim it again.

Yugioh S1 Ep 25: Yugi Has (Another) Melt Down

It’s the weekend, so lets sit down to some Yugioh. Recently, our protagonist has had a pretty big break up--with himself.  Pharaoh was either just so exasperated or just so drained that he didn’t even show up this episode, I gather because he’s still pissed that Yugi didn’t do a murder.

Yugi’s voice actor, I’m sure, breathed a sigh of relief because sometimes it’s super apparent that this is just one guy arguing with himself in a sound booth and he sometimes doesn’t fully flip form person to person as he’s jumping up and down 2 octaves.

So, Yugi does what people do when they break up, by flopping down catatonic at the steps of Generic Castle.

If you’re the same age as the kids I work with who think Greenday is “retro,” first of all, how dare you, and second of all, you’re probably too young to know the most emo album of the 00′s, Transantlanticism, AKA the album that gave America depression for about 4 years. I guess you too-young children don’t get know the sound of slowly sinking into a tar pit while beautiful little birds cry on your face.

Anyway, I just erased about 5 rants about smol kids calling the the Killers “retro”, so I’ll segway back to the anime at hand before I do it, yet again. Uf, my weakness.

Yugi’s friends are doing whatever they can to try and reach Yugi without actually doing the emotional labor of trying to reach Yugi. They can physically move him around (and my guess is that they’ve just been picking him up by the scruff of the neck like a kitten and just walking him place to place.) When they straight up ask what they can do, he has a predictable reply of no reply at all.

(read more under the cut)

Like I make fun of this show a lot, but this is some interesting stuff. I have seen so many people wax long about Sailor Moon for their college theses but, very few get on the Yugioh train despite the fact that there’s some good literary action going on here. You have to parse through some voice acting but, I mean--we’ve all seen the original Sailor Moon dub.

It’s also completely--sorry I’m listening to Transatlanticism as I type this and they just got to the cowbells. Gotta live in the moment for a little bit. Ugh, so good. OK, cowbells over--anyways, this show is also completely nutballs, but it’s a shame that it’s reputation for being a wacky nutballs extravaganza distract from the fact that there’s some clever subtle(-ish) stuff going on underneath it.

So, lets dive a wee bit deeper. Not super far mind you, most of those waaaay too deep college anime papers are nonsense that the student wrote at 4AM on 5 redbulls (SO ENTERTAINING THOUGH), but, lets step back about 3 or 4 episodes from here.

I realized something kind of obvious that went right over my head until this episode. It’s a riddle:

A boy walking through the woods comes to a crossroads. Two twins are standing there, and they explain one lies and one tells the truth, and one way down the fork is certain death and the other way is the way home. The boy decides “Oh, yeah, I know this one,” and starts solving the riddle, but then realizes very quickly that both the twins are liars. The riddle cannot be solved. Either fork in the road will always lead to death.

At the time I didn’t understand the riddle, I looked online and got only other confused people, but now it makes sense why there was no real answer. Yugi and Pharaoh are the two lying twins at the crossroads. Yugi and Pharaoh are a type of twin: they look the same, they finish each other’s thoughts, they both can’t stop withholding information, they also share the same body.

The riddle of ParaDox wasn’t really about how to get out of the labyrinth, it was to illustrate this choice that Yugi will never be able to make. He cannot be cured. He can’t escape his mind-labyrinth. While Yugi could choose to completely become the Pharaoh or completely become Yugi, both choices would end in a type of death for the other.

And apparently, Yugi deciding to go full-Yugi is a lot like watching Windows reboot itself on safe mode.

Bless this story boarder.

Nice of Mai to show up just a few minutes too late. She could have just given 5 chips to Kaiba but whatever. Speaking of Kaiba.

And that’s where Kaiba’s gonna be for the rest of the episode. Kaiba’s walking speed must be at an ants pace to explain this season.

Meanwhile, Mai decides to show off her own strange form of tough love. It’s very similar to Joeys, and very much not what Yugi needs right now. Can anyone on this show recognize what a break down looks like?

At least everyone else’s weird approach to self care does make for good TV.

Maybe it was poor animation but I really think based on other people’s reactions that she was trying to fake punch the kid. Seems to be a normal reaction in the Yugioh universe to just punch punch punch until it all works out.

Also Mai is way more productive than the rest of them combined. It’s kind of unfair that the clearly best player here is clearly not going to win this tourney. I’d do the math exactly, I exaggerated for this panel, but I believe she won 10 chips in one day? About?

The show never actually has Yugi say “I don’t want help, leave me alone.” but about ten episodes back we saw this same exchange with Mai and Yugi but in the reverse. Interesting parallel. Of course, now it’s got the added element of no one wants to be the first to tell Mai that Yugi nearly killed the head of Kaiba Corp. Youknow...the people who are, in fact, funding and hosting this tournament.

I mean I guess it would be weird to bring up that 10 minutes ago Kaiba was standing on a ledge and Yugi was flinging a hologram yo-yo at him but what could be weirder than this already is?

Tea can duel!? I mean I guess we saw her deck once, back when Bakura talked shop before he youknow...turned them into cards...but man, I thought everyone on the show would end up dueling before Tea does.

So, they decided to hike all the way to platform 15. I haven’t been keeping track of their numbers but like...how many are even on this island? How many are hanging out never to be used again because No One Lives Here?

So is Tea any good at cards? I mean she’s not NOT not dating a card wizard Pharaoh.

She’s not. She’s not good at cards. I mean...she’s Tea.

Also, Tea never shuts up about the power of friendship through this whole fight. It was like...girl there comes a point. You passed the point. This is past the comfortable point.

Why, Tea?

I get the feeling that this show was written by writers who knew their forte and it was not romance.

This shot right here is the closest we’ve gotten to romance this season. Incredible.

And again, I don’t want it to happen, I’m just surprised that the writers didn’t, either.

Joey kinda leans over to Yugi after a while and is like “IS ANY OF THIS GETTING TO YOU!? CAN YOU HEAR ME LIL BUDDY!?” and Yugi’s like “I’m standing right next to you!”

It’s during this that Mai delivers some hard to swallow pills. Things that aren’t necessarily wrong.

We got the only two girls on a show that funnels girls into the emotional support role fighting it out to see who has the right form of moral support. The honest answer is they both do, in their own weird way.

Tea standing up to Mai inspires Yugi to stand up to his dark side, because apparently Mai is just a darkside version of Tea? Kind of a weird thing to inspire him but the episode needed a clean solution to this problem that they’ve already told us can’t ever be solved.

Yugi’s eyes dilate back to their normal scary hell state, he makes eye contact with his friends again, and he is ready to move this plot forward.

Because...Tea? I dunno.

GOL THIS FACE.

So lets get this straight--he hasn’t spoken a word to Pharaoh, he’s just decided "Well Tea can’t be wrong so we’re good now” and booked it straight for card wizard Magic Palace? Again, this bizarre heel turn would actually make sense if these two had shown any sort of...wait...

Did they have to edit out the romance in post? Is that what happened? That’s what happened, wasn’t it?

Anyways, next week, on Yugioh, maybe we’ll get an actual resolution to this problem. Also:

Who will Yugi almost kill next? Will Kaiba have to walk down yet another hallway with a big ass endless rug? Is Bandit Keith just lounging in Pegasus’ infinity pool drinking strawberry juice out of a wine glass through all this?

DAY6 Jae| Boyfriend AU

Others like this: | Sungjin |

I love Jae so much, he’s so funny!  Tbh this didn’t take that long for me to write, I kinda just sat down and wrote almost all of it in that one sitting haha.  Enjoy!

Slightly NSFW!

Jae:

Essentially the super duper goofy and lovey dovey couple that everyone lowkey hates cause they’re just too cute together and in love like everyone wants this kind of relationship.

You think that you’re stealing his glasses all the time to annoy him, but in reality Jae places his glasses strategically so that you have the opportunity to use them. He just thinks you look all adorable when you wear them, and HE KNOWS that he looks adorable looking all pouty when he pretends to be mad at you. 

Loves seeing you in his clothes *flannels cough cough* but doesn’t so much obviously give them to you to wear like he does when he sets it up for you to steal his glasses. 

If you walk out of the bedroom the morning after and you’re only wearing his flannel be prepare to go back right where you came from, all of a sudden he’s been reenergized, screw breakfast. 

Doesn’t mind a girl that curses, in fact he thinks it’s super cute and funny when you do so. 

boyfriend that acts sassy and goofy, but is actually super caring and would cut off his arm for you if you asked him. 

Milkshakes and Italian ice kind of boyfriend. 

Lucky charms cereal and lilies on anniversaries. 

Really into calling you things like babe and sweetheart, but if you hear him call you baby girl you know he’s in the mood and should be expecting some love making soon. 

,,, also expect lots of playful name calling: Chicken Little, and Dumbo. But he loves you it’s all in good fun. 

Carelessly walks around the apartment in his underwear, like once you had friends over and he woke up and went to the kitchen for something to eat, and your friends got a better look than you would have preferred. 

Surprisingly easy to manipulate so that the situation can be in your favor. 

Example: “Babe let’s watch a movie, that new avenger movie is finally on demand.” 

 “Hm, I was really hoping that we could watch something else tonight.” *runs fingers up his chest* 

 “What are you thinking? Harry Potter? A horror movie?” 

 “How about something more gentle? There’s a new rom com that I have saved.” 

 “But babe…” 

 “Can’t we just watch your movie another time?” By this time you’d be whispering in his ear and Jae would be putty in your hands. 

 “I guess we’re watching some sappy romance tonight! If you make the popcorn I’ll scoop us up some ice cream!” 

Jae’s very affectionate and he doesn’t like to hide it. 

, dammit this boy will full on make out with you in front of all the other boys, maybe even go far enough that there might be a little groping going on. 

Butt >>=<< Boobs, he doesn’t prefer either, but boy can he grab your ass hard. 

Sex with Jae is actually really interesting and fun! He’s pretty much down for anything as long as you are, and is very generous in bed. 

Your safe word is Zeus’ Thunderbolt btw. 

While Jae prefers to be in control for the most part, he doesn’t mind switching it up every once and awhile and having you tell him what to do.

The only struggle is with his glasses, he needs the to SEE, but sometimes they make it harder to kiss you and just get in the way of things overall. Sometimes he thinks that he should just get contacts specifically to use while he has sex with you lol. 

Doesn’t really like serious sex, he thinks that’s how couples get into intimacy slumps. He’ll go out of his way to make you laugh while you’re making out, or even when he’s balls deep inside of you, Jae just loves hearing you laugh and tbh it’s also a little but if a turn on to him knowing that you’re not only feeling the pleasure but also having fun while doing it!

I can see Jae prematurely saying “I love you.” Like he kind of blurts it out one day and it takes you by surprise but you know it’s heartfelt, and even though it may be too early in the relationship for you to say it back to him, you still kiss him hard on the lips to show him that you feel the same.

Drunk karaoke, singing/screaming Don’t Stop Believing together and the people in the apartment next to yours bang on the wall.  

“Knock knock” 

 *waits for answer but gets none* “Knock knock” 

 *silence again* 

 “You’re supposed to ask ‘Who’s there?’ babe.” 

 “Jae I swear to god, it’s 4am shut up.” 

Jae always has so many date ideas up his sleeve, so your outings together are always adventures. 

Couples painting classes! Hiking up a mountain! 

Going to the zoo!

Horseback riding!!!

A wine and cheese tasting in the middle of nowhere in the countryside?!

Now Jae is no Sungjin, I’m pretty sure his alcohol preferences aren’t so lavish, I’m pretty sure he’s perfectly content with just a shitty beer in his hand.

Really goes out of his way to impress people.

Knows nothing about sports but always tries to watch big games on the TV because who knows who he’s going to meet and maybe need to impress with his invested knowledge of American football or Soccer?

, and goes all out for it too, like he’ll dress up wearing a sports jersey and have you invite all the boys over and make wings and whatever, and you’re there just like “Hey Chicken Little! Your American douchebag is showing!” (Not that he’s being a douche he just wants to impress people cute baby) 

For your first year anniversary, Jae took you to the most romantic restaurant he could find, a small joint with the lipstick lips of all the lovers that come through on the ceiling, you two graciously add to that, and it was so sweet and the food was so good that you continue coming back for each of your anniversaries.

(This is actually a real place in New York City if you are interested! I’ve been there before and it was really yummy!!! Too bad I don’t remember the name of it lol!)

Together you two actually do a lot of volunteer work together, in particularly at the local animal shelter.

It started off just as a hobby for both of you, and as a way to give back to the community while also making all these animals lives better, but then it kind of morphed into a slight obsession for both of you.

You’ve gone through all of your stuff gazillions of times looking for things to donate like towels and old blankets. You’ve called up all your friends asking to donate either with a physical donation or by joining you guys to walk a dog or something! And though all your friends are more than willing to donate because it is a good cause, enough is enough you know?

Anyway, there are always a lot of really cute animals going in and out of the animal shelter, kittens and puppies galore, but one day there is this small German Shepard mix puppy there, and you two just immediately fall In LOVE with her!!! She’s just so precious!

Do you see where I’m going with this?

You and Jae adopt this puppy and name her Cali (short for California for obvious reasons), and she is such a joy to have in your lives.

Cali loves to jump up on the couch with you two while you’re in the middle of a cuddle session, and just lay on top of both of you. This habit unfortunately continues as she grows up much bigger, and even as an adult dog she’ll try to climb over you guys on the couch and it’s such a mess.

Jae walks around your apartment wearing these huge headphones that are almost obnoxiously large and you always have to scream for him to hear anything.

And normally this would make you upset and frustrated, but you understand that with Jae music is not only his passion but his work as well, so he always needs to somehow be connected to music.

Loves to serenade you with his guitar, sometimes he’ll try to form a little band together, with you on the tambourine, and it’s always a disaster but it’s a happy one. Always ending in laughs.

Though Jae may love you with all his heart and body he doesn’t see the need to marry you so quickly. He’s very happy with his current situation and doesn’t see marriage as something that needs to happen immediately. After all you guys are living together and still so young, what’s the rush?!

Not that he has any plans or whatever to break up with you in the future or that he can’t see you as someone he can marry, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, but maybe you guys aren’t ready for a big step like that while you’re still so young. 

 That’s not saying that he doesn’t know exactly how he is going to propose to you, where, when, the position of the moon in the sky, he’s got all this down to the socks that will be on his feet. Jae wants everything to be perfect when he finally asks the question.

Overall Jae is just a super sweet and goofy boyfriend that thinks the world shines just for you, and you’re his muse, the reason why he can push himself to become a better performer.  He loves you so much.

<><> do not edit/remove anything from the original post <><> this AU belongs to me <><>

Some days, things just click. You're on your 'game'. There's a flow. Almost magical. That's what happened on Feb 9th 2014, the day Taylor and I met. Just a few days before, I was in Iceland taking promo shots for my latest album Sparks with Jeremy Cowart. Here's a video Jeremy put together of our shoot. Michael (my fella, love of my life) and I also took the opportunity to have a mini break in this magical country, where not only did we catch the northern lights but we also surprise bagged a baby! Eight and a half months on, Taylor's new album is out and any day now, so is gonna be whoever's in my tummy...wait... was that a contraction?? Anyway... I digress... so I got a phone call saying Taylor Swift was in London, she'd love to work with me and the only day she could do (between 4 sold out 02 arenas!) was the day after we got back, Sunday. It was both unexpected and not at the same time as I'd heard Taylor was a fan a while back via this Time magazine piece but somehow didn't think it would actually happen. I love co-writing and producing for other artists and I was really itching to get back into the studio for something completely different after the marathon that was Sparks too....plus, you don't really say no to Taylor Swift do you?? So, Michael and I landed, he went off to shoot a film that week and i dusted off my studio in preparation for my day with Taylor. now... I was a bit tired after travelling and it was all rather surreal, so maybe I dreamed some of this but this is how I remember it. Taylor was dropped off at around midday and we greeted each other with what seemed appropriate, a big hug. I was half expecting such a massive star to have a huge entourage but very pleased to discover it would be just Taylor and I. Guitar in hand, this tall, immaculate, relaxed and friendly young woman (with from memory some big assed heels on) walks in and we go into the kitchen for the obligatory English welcome cup of tea. We get chatting away. It's cold in February here in this old house, so 'd lit the fire in the dining room and we continued in there. Taylor pulled out her guitar, saying she had a song idea that if I liked it, maybe we could work on that one. Great! I thought... a beginning. Because without a beginning, you have to conjure up one out of thin air and we had so little time. Taylor strummed and sang a first verse and a chorus. It sounded really good to me already, so I suggested we just go straight down into the studio and I'd start throwing some sounds at it. Maybe we could demo it up for a later time to finish? I made a session in Pro-Tools, we set the tempo we felt sounded good against her singing it in the room and I started to record noises. I really felt a driving simple bass line just following the chords would be good. Warm, bendy and a bit buzzy. That and a simple snippy beat created the backbone for me to build on with some instruments in my 'toy room'. For some reason I gravitated first to my set of BoomWhackers (a set of tubes you hit on the floor or against each other and they make a nice percussive sound). Taylor liked these and so in they went. Then, some of my trusy mbira. Such a lush sounding instrument and with very little can really bring some twinkle to a song without it becoming cheesy. Every sound that ended up on the song was preceded by sounds of delight from Taylor. That was my queue she was happy and for me to move onto the next sound or part. I've worked in the past with a few heavy handed producers (when I was around 17-20) which I really hated. With those experiences, It's very important to me that they are with every decision. We're in this together. That seems obvious perhaps but there are many artists who just get trampled on by various producers and perhaps that's ok with them but I can't stand it and I don't want to do that with anyone else. Anyway.. something tells me, Taylor wouldn't let that happen in a million years. I was editing and mixing the bits in, meantime Taylor had written the 2nd verse! Good going gals! Teamwork! It was time for a late lunch. I have to be honest here and say I had ever so slightly not done my homework on Taylor Swift but had done what I HATE others do of me, which is to pre-judge a person based on assumptions. I had assumed Taylor didn't write too much of her own music (as is the case with many young, extremely successful artists these days who sell shed loads of records) and was likely puppeteered by an ageing gang of music executives, working to formulas and spread sheets. How wrong was I? Totally clued up from a very young age (I had no idea what a publishing label even was at the age of 14 never mind moving my family to nashville so I could pursue a song-writing career!), hyper driven, hard working, really talented and a genuine lovely soul, with a few more boy troubles than she most but you can't get it all right all the time! So... lunch was fun and now back to the studio. We still needed a middle section. I fancied really stripping it down, quite moody. So we tried a few things out. One of which had me going over to the keyboard to suggest a slightly 'odd' chord progression as I do like a bit of that on my own records. I played it to Taylor and she quite clearly said "I think we're going to lose them at this point" and I said... 'wow... that I why you sell millions of records and I don't!' She is Taylor Swift and she knows best, so we stuck to the chords, I created a bit of tension in the music instead and then we could woosh into the final chorus from there. I learned that lesson again, keep it simple. I just never seem to remember it! Taylor, again knowing what she wants, fancied some Heap backing vocals, so first I had her sing in her now finished lyric and melody (of which she wrote pretty much all of by herself)... which she did in a couple of takes (and what you hear on the album) and I sang a load of Heap style harmonies, textures, rhythmic chants and things, which she loved. We then had a quick dinner, came back down to the studio and I 'bounced down' what we had recorded that day to a stereo file for her to take away with her. Taylor left about 8pm and we'd managed to demo up an entire song from scratch, whilst still managing lunch, dinner and chat! Quite amazing. Some times it just flows like a dream! Which is what it all felt like after she'd got in the car to go back to London. Here's what she wrote in an email to me that night. I'm sure she won't mind me sharing it. "Imogen, I've listened to Clean over and over and I can't thank you enough for today. It was one of the musical highlights of my life watching you work. This will be such a special song on my album and I'm so happy this all came together. Hope to see you at a show and if not, I'll come visit next time I'm over here! Taylor" I was so excited by the whole thing, I worked until 4am, singing in more vocal backups (my favourite being the last chorus 'and then the... ' line up high), tweaking sounds here and there and then sent it over to Taylor (hoping I hadn't gone toooo far) to which she replied.... "THIS VERSION IS AMAZING! I'm in love with all the vocal parts you added. Can't stop listening on repeat!! This song is unreal. Well done!" So there we go! High on life for a long while after but had to keep it quiet was torturous but the surprise was Taylor's to share for sure. I so enjoyed the whole experience and it gave me a new kinda energy having worked with this mega woman, force of nature. I can't thank her enough for taking a chance on me (I'm not exactly Max Martin you know!) and am so happy the song made it on the record (and feel lucky it's the closing track, coz that's a special spot) as I love it and would have been sad to see it 'sit on the shelf' (as some co-writes I've done in the past have!). I went to see her play live at the 02 the night after with a few friends. She was completely brilliant and we all adored her. Here's a photo we had taken after the show. Felt I wanted to share the experience, as it was a special one. I've also been reading the odd report or tweet here and there that the reason these lyrics to 'Clean' are so good is because I wrote the song with her but FOR SURE they are all hers she deserves all the credit! So congrats to you Taylor (if you're reading this) on the release of 1989. I hope it's a huge success (it's looking that way already) and brings you much happiness. I look forward to news of a man who's swept you off your feet and to introducing you to our baby girl/boy next time you're in town and fancy a cuppa in the english countryside! We will find out any day now! Thank you for everything. Soon to be, mama Heap. xxx

Imogen Heap’s day with Taylor.  a lot of people have collaborated with @taylorswift but none of them have explained the writing/collaborating process in details like Imogen did. 

A photo at Red Tour backstage!

and polaroid while making Clean!

Mentally Unstable

Pairing: Jensen x reader (platonic till the end), Jared x reader (platonic)

Trigger warnings: mental illness, slight depression, anger outburst, language, very little spn canon violence, self loathing (I guess. Basically the reader doesn’t like herself), bad traffic (yes that’s a warning), reader being bitchy

Word Count: 3131

Summary: You wake instantly knowing you are going to have one of your “bad” days meaning your emotions are going to be a mess. Sure enough angry outburst start your day when you nearly kick the crap out of a guy in traffic and nearly bit off Jared and Jensen’s heads. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like this will be going away any time soon. How are you supposed to keep it hidden from people who are practically your family and how will this affect the major scenes you must shoot? That’s right you are an actress on Supernatural, but can you keep your emotion in check long enough to get through the day?

A/N: Hey y’all first I want to say I have no fucking Idea where this came from. It wasn’t planned at all. It’s basically word vomit on a page because I had a really crappy day in which some of the things in the story actually happened to me. So, I guess writing some fluffy J2 helped me get over my shitty day. I also wrote the reader based off myself in a way because these emotional issues are ones I face and today was one of the “bad” days for me. Literally wrote this between the times of 8pm and 4am so there’s barely any editing done and I apologize for any mistakes. Its currently 4:30 and I have no ambition to check. Any who, I know I had more to say but I forget, oh well enjoy. P.S. This is my first RPF so be easy on me please. As always feedback is appreciated and wanted and hate will not be tolerated.

***Italics are scenes being shot for the show***

“Damn it!!!!” You screamed as you burnt your hand on your hair straightener for the third time this morning. It was now 8 am and you had to be on set in an hour. You were barely half ready and it took you 45 minutes to get to set.

The whole morning just wasn’t going your way. From the moment you woke up you knew, just by the mood you were in, that it wasn’t going to be a particularly good day. You really didn’t need a cycle of bad days right now, but it looked like your head had other plans.

It started with your damn neighbors at 1 o’clock this morning banging on the walls and their furniture skidding across the floors. You could only assume they were fucking their brains out. However, their two hours of bliss really cut into your sleep time. If that wasn’t bad enough your alarm decided to not go off this morning. Which made you an hour late getting ready.

Now here you were hair half done, make up barely applied still in your PJ’s and having to leave in like 10 minutes.

“Fuck it!” you said as you threw the straightener down on the counter and through your hair in a messy bun. The little make up you had on, you wiped off and headed to your closet. Noticing all your jeans were dirty, you huffed and grabbed a pair of sweats, an oversized t-shirt, put your converse sneakers on, and grabbed your sunglasses to head out the door.

While driving to set, of course you’d have the good fortune to run into traffic. These idiots simply didn’t know how to drive. It was really starting to piss you off. Cars were weaving in and out of lanes, stopping abruptly, and paying no mind to anyone else around them.

“Are you fucking kidding. Thanks for cutting me off you idiot,” you shouted to the black Prius that decided it was ok for them to cut in front of you. This prompted them to flick you off after which you had to take a dozen deep breaths to stop yourself from getting out of your car and beating the shit out of them.

After the horrendous traffic, you finally made it to set at 9:05. Five minute late. You went to run to your trailer when you ran into a huge solid figure and fell on your ass muttering “Shit” to yourself.

“Hey there speed racer. Why the rush? Jensen said as he gave you a hand to help you up.

“Oh, you know running late,” you responded with a bit of anger in your tone.

“Damn (Y/N), you look like crap.”

“Why, thank you Jensen. That’s what every girl wants to here in the morning,” you said with a scowl on your face and a viciousness in your voice.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean- “

“Let me stop you there. I don’t have time for this right now. I have to drop my stuff off in my trailer and go to straight to hair and make up to get this mess figured out.”

“(Y/N), what’s up with you this morning. I’ve never seen you act this way before?”

“Having a bad morning,” and with that you turned away and went to your trailer.

That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You tended to go through periods of good days and periods of bad days. Your mental health was a bit unstable to say in the least. It’s been like this since you were in high school and you have just kind of dealt with it since then. Although, it’s been getting harder to hide. Usually your bad days started around hiatus or right before a long break, but now it’s happening more often during filming.

You had been working on Supernatural for two years now. You loved it. Your character’s name was Natasha and when she first met the boys it was right after the events of season 8, so the beginning of season 9. She was badass and could fight better than the boys most the time. However, she was a demon, which proved to be troublesome with Sam getting possessed by Gadreel and all. Her issue was she wanted the boys to cure her from being a demon. So, it led to an interesting story line.

Working with Jared, Jensen, Misha, and even Mark was the highlight of your life. You loved them like your family, hell they were your family. You didn’t have anyone else. Your parents died when you were young and you had no siblings so you were pretty much on your own. Until now. That’s what made keeping this secret so hard. The only person that knew was Jared and that was only because he caught you in the middle of a breakdown on one of your particularly bad days. He sat and talked with you telling you his experience with mental illness. You begged him not to tell a soul, and even though he disagreed with your choice he promised to keep your secret.

That brings us back to the present. You were in the hair and make up trailer, with Janine the stylist, with your hair just about done, when Jared walked in with a concerned look on his face.

“Hey (Y/N). How are you feeling this morning?” Jared asked.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” you replied with anger filling your voice.

“Easy there. Don’t bite my head off. Jensen came to me and said you acting a bit off and basically chewed him out. So, I thought I’d come check on you.”

“Sorry Jar, it’s just been a hell of a morning and I didn’t get much sleep.”

“And it’s one of your “bad” days.”

“Yeah that too. I’ll apologize to Jay later it’s just today I’m more off than usual. Like I’m tired, depressed, pissed, and annoyed all at once and it’s making my head spin.”

“I get it. You know I do. That’s I think you should tell the others, especially Jensen.”

“I can’t Jar.”

“Yes, you can. I did and actually helped a lot and still does.”

“I want to tell him and the others. I really do. I just…. I just don’t know.”

“Look, I think you should, but I’m not going to pressure you. It’s your choice. Do what’s best for you and that pretty little noggin of yours. Just know, I’m always here if you need to talk, no matter what.”

“Thanks Jar. Really, it means a lot.”

“Look, I heave to head back to set to finish a scene with Jensen, but at least think about it. Love ya. See you soon,” he said as he kissed the crown of your head, earning him a scowl from your hair artist, and out the door he went.

Janine finished your hair quite flawlessly considering what she had to work with and quickly applied your make up, Natasha didn’t wear much so it was always quick, and you headed to wardrobe.

For this episode, they had you back in your all black demon style. For a bit, there you were in relaxed jeans and a flannel like the guys, but this episode had you facing off with some old demon buddies. So, you had to look the part with the skinny leather biker pants, leather biker jacket, lace up combat boots, and even a bullet belt as if you couldn’t look any more badass. Despite the result of the outfit, which was always hot as hell, it was a major pain in the ass to put on. Leather tends not to cooperate or breathe, if you know what I mean. But, none the less it was now on and you headed to Stage 3 to do your scene with the boys.

“Hey (Y/N), about earlier, I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes. I didn’t mean t- “Jensen started to say but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it Jay. It’s good. Like I said it’s just been a really rough morning and you just caught me in a bad time that’s all,” you replied with a slight smile on your face.

“You feelin’ better now, (Y/N)?” Jared asked as he came running over.

“Yeah, a little. You, on the other hand, better be careful and not mess up that hair or you won’t be once Janine’s done with you.” Jared laughed shaking his head knowing you weren’t kidding. Janine would get so frustrated with him because he could never sit still for her to finish his hair and then 10 minutes later it was all messed up.

“Alright places people. We need to start the next scene. We’re wasting precious minutes here,” Bob singer shouted and you all ran to your marks. “And ACTION!”

“Look Dean, I know these guys. You could say we were chummy back in the day. I know how they operate,” Natasha said.

“Yeah, well, you were “chummy” back when you were still a demon, but now you’re not.”

“They don’t know that.”

“What do they think you’ve been up to?”

“Treason to the king maybe, but they’d never expect this. So, I just play the part. Act like I used to.”

“What happens when they throw their demon powers at you and realize you can’t throw back?”

“Then I fight. I haven’t lost my skills. And let’s not forget who kick both yours and Sammy’s ass just three days ago.”

“CUT!” Singer screamed. “(Y/N), sweetie, I need more emotion from you. Need more snark and that last line I need that famous snarky grin that you do so well.”

“Got it boss,” you quickly replied.

“Alright let’s pick up at ‘Then I fight…’ and ACTION!”

“Then I fight. I haven’t lost my skills. And let’s not forget who kick both yours and Sammy’s ass just three days ago.” You said nailing your grin.

“Yeah, well I still don’t like this plan. Too many unknowns. It’s dangerous.”

“DUHH!! It’s dangerous. Everything we do is dangerous. It’s the job. And since when do you care about unknowns? That’s like your calling card ignoring all the unknowns and kick down doors.”

“It’s not gonna be easy Tasha.”

“Never said it would be Dean-o.”

“You sure about this?”

“Yeah totally. Like 90% sure. OK like 85%. Maybe 70%. Stop me now it’s not getting any better.”

Just then Sam walked through the motel door and said, “There here.”

“CUT! Awesome job guys. Take five while we set up for the next scene,” Singer said.

“That was great (Y/N)!” Jensen said.

“Yeah you did good,” Jared agreed.

“Plus you look totally hot in all that leather so that helped,” Jensen said with a smirk on his face.

“Dude, really?” Jared said.

“For real Jay, I think your Dean is showing,” you said making both men laugh.

“You may be right, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Jensen said.

“Well, Dean is a notorious liar, so is it?” you couldn’t help but smile at yourself for that one. Jared even gave you a half hug for that.

“I can’t win, can I?” Jensen sarcastically asked.

“Nope. It’s best you learn that know, Ackles. The woman always wins,” you responded. At that time, you were all being called back to set for the big demon fight scene. You weren’t going to lie, you were nervous. This scene had you doing a lot more stunts then you’ve done in the past. Also, you’ve never been on one of your “bad” days for a big fight scene so that just added to the problem.

You finished the fight scene, which took two hours longer to shoot than it should have. You kept messing up and making dumbass rookie mistakes. Every time you messed up you’d have to start over. With every screw up, it made you angrier and angrier at the same time depressing you. After a while Jared and Jensen started to goof off to try and make you feel better and while you appreciated the effort that only put you further behind and made you more upset. But, finally after 5 painstaking hours, yes 5, you finished and you were all fake bloody.

Next up was your emotional scene with the boys but more focused on Dean than Sam. You weren’t sure you were going to be able to get through it but you had no choice.

Natasha laid in the corner of the room, beaten, bloodied, unable to move. Dean went running towards her and laid her in his lap.

“Tasha, hey, come on, open your eyes,” Dean said.

“D-Dean,” Natasha sputtered. “Sometimes I wish I was still a demon. This would hurt a lot less,” Natasha said with a smile forming on her face.

“Really?? A joke? Right now? I don’t think this is a time for jokes Tasha.”

“Hey, lighten up will ya? It’s not like I haven’t died before. I mean technically I’m 540 years old. So- “Natasha started coughing up blood.

“That’s not funny. You’re human now. I knew this show down was a stupid idea. Look at you. I don’t even know where to press down because your bleeding from everywhere,” tears started to roll down Deans face. “What are we going to do without you? What am I going to do without you? I need you here.”

With those words coming out of Jensen’s mouth and the fake “real” tears pouring out of both of your eyes, you lost it. You don’t know what happened but your fake tears became real signaling the “bad” day intervening again. You couldn’t stop it so you got off Jensen and apologized to the rest of the cast and crew and ran to your trailer with the tears still flowing.

You were sat in the corner between the couch and TV with your legs folded to your chest, when you heard a knock on your door. “Not now Jay,” you said.

“It’s not Jensen, it’s me and I’m coming in,” Jared said as he entered your trailer and sat next to you. “What’s going on in that confusing head of yours?” he asked.

“That’s just it Jar, I have no fucking clue. And the fact that I have no clue makes it even worse.”

“I know but think something had to have set you off.”

“All I know is that I was looking into Jensen’s eyes as he was saying Dean’s words to Natasha and suddenly the fake tears weren’t so fake anymore.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m sure you’ve noticed, because I have, that these “bad” days, as you call them, are happening more frequently.” You just nodded your head. “Well, I’m thinking that the stress of keeping this a secret is what’s provoking it to happen more.”

“I guess that makes sense. But I just don’t understand how I go from majorly pissed of one moment to crying my eyes out the next.”

“That’s the human brain for ya sweetie. No one can really explain why it does what it does.”

“Your right. It’s just this fuck up of a day has had me reeling on edge and got in my head.”

“Happens to the best of us. So, you gonna tell him?” You nodded yes. “Good because he’s waiting outside. Jensen come in!”

You mouthed a thank you to Jared as he walked out the door and he gave you that ‘don’t mention it’ face he always does.

Jensen came and sat next to you. “What’s going on?” he kindly asked.

“Look Jay, there’s something you don’t know about me. Well more like a few somethings that have a lot to do with what going on with me.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, when I was a kid my parents died so my grandparents took care of me and after a few months they started to notice a change in me. I guess losing my parents messed with my head so much that it kind of left me mentally unstable.”

“OK, what exactly does that mean?”

“It means that I have these periods of bad days and periods of good days. I’m usually able to keep them hidden from most, but lately it’s been happening more and I guess it got to be too much. Thus, the angry outbursts and out of nowhere crying.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because I’m embarrassed by it and honestly its usually something that sends a person running for the hills. Anytime someone says ‘mental illness’ or ‘mentally unstable’ people assume the worst and actually make them worse. So, it’s always been in my best interest to keep it hidden.”

“I get it. But you do realize you are in the one place where no one would care? We would all support you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I just am ashamed I guess, but I can’t hold it back anymore because that’s making it worse.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all support you. I support you. It’s gonna take a lot more than a mental illness to send me running for the hills.”

“I really appreciate that Jay. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“No problem. And look you can come and talk to me anytime you need. Any hour of any day. Call if you must. I’ll pick up. Your health is more important.”

“Thank you.”

“Your welcome. But I have a question. How come Jared knew?”

“Because he found me in the middle of one of my break downs about 6 months back and I swore him to secrecy.”

“That sounds like you,” Jensen said with a smile on his face. “Now why don’t we go and finish this scene and kick it in the ass and then grab a couple beers to top the night off?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Jensen helped you off the ground ad you both returned to Stage 3 and knocked that scene out of the park. You both portrayed that raw emotion with such intensity it was hard to believe it wasn’t real. Those were Bob Singers words not yours. Turns out Natasha didn’t die, right before she drew her final breath Cas swooped in and healed her mostly because he still had a little wear and tear. But she lived and spoiler alert her and Dean ended up together. Many times that night, in fact, much to Sam’s annoyance. So, a good episode.

After that you did go out and get those beers with the guys and had a wonderful rest of the night. Cracking jokes telling stories, it was a hell of a time. Maybe a little too wonderful considering you woke up in Jensen’s bed with his t-shirt on and him wearing nothing but boxers. 

@jensen-jarpad 

moominland chronicles fünfzehn: felice vs the german health care system

Hello you, 

It’s 4am on Friday morning, I’m lying in bed with one of my 3 flowered ikea lamps burning away, holding my cuddly pig tight to my chest whilst I tap out this blog on my iphone, balanced on a pillow.

I cant sleep.

I’m going to get a taxi to hospital in 5 hours.

Before we start all that please administer any of the below music to yourself as an accompaniment, I’ve been dipping my toes into the clear water of pop shoals this week, I might be the last person to have listened to blond (an article in vice insisted upon me lining it up on my google play - still no cd player, I know):

Frank ocean

Nikes (song, always a fan of a big opener on an album)

https://vimeo.com/179791907?ref=em-share

Blond (album, yes you've probably heard it already)

https://www.discogs.com/Frank-Ocean-Blond/master/1046042

I'm also late on the train for Mitski I’m sure, but the words, restrain in her voice and divergent harmonies (discordant, is that better?) are searing through me, might listen again in the hospital tomorrow.

Though perhaps as she grows older she wont long for that kiss quite as much as she does now, because prince charming will never save her really (though she does acknowledge that from time to time on this album)

Mitski

A horse named cold air (song)

https://youtu.be/ce3m-o1pZqY

Be the cowboy (Album)

https://mitski.bandcamp.com/album/be-the-cowboy

And just this one song, which kind of speaks frankly from my heart a little, or at least I sympathise with, though in a fuller sense my situation is very different and it’s only my little brain that identifies with the lyrics.

SZA: the weekend

https://youtu.be/PALMMqZLAQk

So then.. youre suited and booted musically, lets press on shall we? After all I mentioned hospital, it would be cruel just to taper off now.

Heres my small brain again:

Fuck the fucking german health system, fuck all those uptight bigoted cunts that put the phone down on me this week, fuck my insurance for charging me since july and slyly adding it to my bill, fuck the man at the tk queue yesterday who aggressively shouted at me for talking on the phone with my sister, about my illness, at the first opportunity that day after a very strange experience with the gynaecologist.

Ok, 

I’m breathing, my small brain is retracting, lets continue a bit less aggressively now.

Health health health, we’re jumping back on the theme from last week, because sometimes illness doesn't go away, and as this blog is my warts and all document of the weird happenings of my life, I am going to be very very open about whats happening to me this week.

So I’m bleeding, like all pre menopausal women do who dont take contraception that inhibits it, thats what was happening in Paris, thats what has been happening for 3 weeks.

I’ve been bleeding for 3 weeks, yes.

I had really bad period pains last time round, which is unusual for me these days, I took buscopan plus, i soldiered on, then it stopped for a week, then it returned, light some days, heavier seemingly at the weekends. I pigheadedly pushed through physically exhausting weeks of cleaning, travelling, working, I’m a freelance cleaner, I don't get sick pay or holiday pay, I have to work or I can't pay rent.

I wrote a blog about it last weekend. But that was just before the blood clots starting coming, when the first one fell out it plopped in the toilet, I was so shocked I fished it out and curiously studied it (warts and all, I’m sick of skirting the weirdness in my life: its there: get used to it). I thought it was a dead baby, it was monstrous and displayed a horrid kind of plasticity as it eerily shifted round the jar in my hand I was gently coercing. It was an alien, more like rosemary's baby than my cherub cheeked nephew.

That was MONDAY.

I thought, ok the babies fallen out, now it’ll surely stop.

On sunday the bear got in touch, he'd been trying to phone, he was annoyed he couldn't get in contact, he was horny. I told him I was still bleeding, he insisted I go to the doctors, in his very forthright way, he sent me money to go even: because i was clueless about my insurance at that point. I knew i’d been getting letters I couldn't read from tk (die teckniker, german health insurance provider)  for months, since I stopped working at the hostel, but I’d just carefully ignored them.

I didn't have the money to pay for health insurance.

I botched my first attempt to see a gynaecologist, I made an appointment online but the transfer the bear made was not in my bank so he asked me to phone them and check payment methods. When I did the receptionist point blank refused to speak English to me, my quandary was simply, “Do I need cash today?” But she was haughty and unsympathetic, another colleague took the phone, who even through garbled understanding felt kinder but it soon transpired that my appointment was for November 1st not October 1st.

“Im very ill i dont think I can wait that long.”

I phoned Meoclinic to be told by a woman with razors in her voice who suddenly became sickeningly sweet after she’d told me it was €400 just to see someone. I felt like the pleasure she was deriving from me tripping over my words and despairingly saying that was to much money for me, was enough for her to take home and masturbate over later, in her silky agent provocateur corset, on silk sheets, with a flute of champagne on the bedside table.

I gave up for the day and decided that tomorrow I’d go to the doctors I went to for my sti test a few months ago, they were very nice. They spoke english, they had open appointments the next day at 18h.

TUESDAY

More clots started coming, big, gloopy, just pouring out of me, they were announced by a tirade of blood, I was soaking through organic pads at an alarming rate.

So that wasn't the baby on Monday then.

I went to clean first, I cant afford to not clean for reasons stated above, at an office where the woman who employs me talks to me through gritted teeth as if our every interaction is painful to her.

Lowly pauper girl, know your place.

Anyway due to logistical issues she had probably not envisaged, I didn't do the whole job and left early. I walked out on to the money lined streets of Uhlandstrasse, Cara Delevine’s svelte androgynous eyes staring out at me from various glass paned monoliths, and sat on a moth eaten bench, very upset from the shift, feeling utterly worthless, responsible and at fault, bleeding.

Then I had a cigarette, collected myself and went to tk: Round 1.

I waited, gushing out blood, in line for 25 minutes to see the receptionist, then a further 10/15 to see the sales girl. I dont have to pay them straight away but when november comes I will have to pay them 720+€ , plus from then on 180€ a month, from an average wage of 800€.

In retrospect I was probably fully within my right to protest starting the contract from July 1st, but I was so grateful for someone health related to be talking to me in English and perhaps it will stand in my favour now the hospital bills will be tallying up.

I left with no card or proof of insurance.

I went home, lay down, then showered, laced my trainers and went back into the world depleted, to Mehringdam to see the emergency doctors, it was raining heavily outside.

They were different this time, I had no proof of insurance but I had the bears money so I was paying cash, I waited dutifully and wrote in my diary.

It was a different female doctor, a more boxy and less vital woman than the previous medic I’d met at the same clinic. About halfway into my bloody tale of woe she stopped me panic stricken.

“You know this is a doctors surgery, you have to go to a gynaecologist.”

“Ok, so you cant help me.” - i start putting my coat back on.

A pause.

“Can you at least refer me to one? I’ve had a hard time trying to find a gynaecologist, I can't really speak German, people have been very rude to me so far, I came back here because I remember people were kind and tried to help me, even though I wasn't sure it was the right place.”

We go out to reception where I stand in front of 2 receptionists who speak in German and totally ignore me, the doctor hands me some measly bits of paper with contact details printed on them and hurries away. Shaken from my bloody tale of woe I imagine she just sits in her office for 10 minutes alone obsessively sterilising her hands and shuddering.

I continue to look at the 2 women in front of me who carry on as if I am invisible for a further 5 minutes, I tell them I’m going to the toilet and then coming back, they brush me off. More blood pours out of me. I return and finally they allow me to pay them, I plod back out into the rain and miserably wait for a bus, head home via the shops and climb back into bed.

WEDNESDAY

Is a national holiday, so I can't sort anything, my client offers me the day off, I take it. I make 9 drawings for my project, bounce the rough edit of the album I’m working on, pull myself to the dance studio I’ve started to rent to practise my live show. Have a long overdue singsong, though I can't really dance i can still sing.

Sunday edit: I’ve since missed 2 bookings at the studio because of this infernal bleeding, hope I can go back soon, it was utterly riveting to finally find a place I could sing as loudly as I wanted.

It's a glorious day even though blood still rains, I’m not cleaning, I’m doing what i really want to do.

THURSDAY

I need to be at my clients early, but I go via the apotheke on the way, there a pharmacist advises me on the best way to take iron and vitamin supplements, sells me ibuprofen and alerts me to the gynaecologist upstairs, but she’s only open till 13h, my job is supposed to finish at that time.

I hum and haa as I hobble to my clients and when I get there decide to finish the job early and see if I can get an appointment.

On the way into the building there's a system of doors, I enter alongside an elderly gentleman with a walking stick and we have quite the time not understanding each other, me holding doors for him, him very jovially propping them open with his stick. I have no idea what’s being said but something tender and wonderful is occurring between us that puts a lightness back in my step.

This reception is slick and clean, the receptionist is neat and elegant. But the doctor isn’t there. They wouldn’t accept my tk insurance anyway, they’re going on holiday till November.

Ok,

I leave and just flop down on the street outside, I’m supposed to be doing a double clean today but I have a 2 hour window before my next job, which is only a 15 minute walk away. I’m getting closer to seeing someone. Still crouched down on the street, still bleeding, I dig out the contacts handed to me, one is for a doctors I’ve called before. I call 2 numbers from the 4 sheets I have, both go through to hard voiced women who utterly refuse to attempt to speak English to me and relish the goodbyes they bestow before they coldly put the phone down. To the second one I say in English:

“I’m really sick, but if I don’t speak German I am just going to continue to be sick, is that what you’re telling me?”

I found a list on google, theres a male gynaecologist just up the road, a man rummaging in my lady bits is a bit disconcerting but truly I’m beyond pride now.

This reception is more modest, I place my cleaning bucket on the floor and then just start with

“I’m losing a lot of blood, can you please help me.”

He’s in.

These receptionists are gorgeous humans, they speak to me in broken English, they’re shocked I’ve been bleeding for 3 weeks, yes he will see me, please take a seat.

He’s a big warm man with no sexual energy, I tell him everything, I feel so grateful just to be able to see him that I’m bowing as I say thank you. I get sent to a little room, remove my trousers and knickers, get let into another room, climb on the chair, he inserts the spy camera dildo (ultrasound) device inside me, then on the screen we look at a ball like thing inside my womb.

Hes glowing when he tells me its probably a very early pregnancy, he’s so excited, though it’ll most likely be a miscarriage, but he paints a future where my little fetus determinedly survives the bloodletting and in 9 months time arrives in my life.

I cover everything in blood, which freaks him out.  

“You’re really bleeding a lot.”

He gives me the ultrasound photo, then after some confusion I go to the nurses and deposit a urine sample on the counter of another room.

“Thank you so much for seeing me.”

“Of course: you have been bleeding for 3 weeks.”

As I wait in the reception for the test results a new future, inconceivable before this point, rolls out before me, where I have the baby and take the government stipend to look after it as a single mother, I thought I didn’t want kids but something seems so precious about this vision. It’ll just be me and my little ball of love, together in some warm cosy flat in Prenzlauer Berg, surrounded by all the other Berlin mothers.

The test is negative, a jolt of dismay passes through me, the vision is shattered, I have to go to the hospital he says. They give me the bill, without proof of insurance I pay in cash, thanking the bear silently. He also tells me to go to my insurance and get a letter, because the hospital will really cost a lot.

So I go home, breathe and collect myself, go back out. Spend over an hour wandering around looking for a photo kiosk for my insurance card (not blind> I’m using google maps to try locate one), finally I find it nestled into a dark part of the s bahn station, it costs double what the machine costs but I just eat the charge, earlier I’d spend 30 minutes wandering around the crossroads outside Leopaldplatz: the fotofix on the map was apparently invisible, I need a picture. I then wait for another 30 minutes to have my photo taken.

When I get to the u bahn where tk is there is a fotofix booth right there, to my left as I walk out of the station, I really hold myself back from screaming and kicking over all the chairs arranged outside the cafe before me. I finally manage to call my sister and it's a glorious funny loving chat, cut short by the aforementioned man in the tk queue.

I tell him in english which he insists he doesn't understand, that I am having the day from hell and that was the first time I’ve managed to speak to that person, he abuses me again in German but then stands very far away from me, the shame weaving around him, I curse him, but its a little thing, just that I hope he gets eaten by spider babies.

Don’t take yourself too seriously.

I retrieve my letter from the receptionist, the same sales woman I spoke to on Tuesday who doesn’t recognise me at all.

It’s getting late in the day, I call back my sister and head to Charite Campus Mitte, as I get there it dawns on me this is where I was an extra on an art video shoot around 3 weeks ago.

There is no discernable entrance, it seems mostly deserted. I travel up in a lift towards the gynakolgie department, but when I exit the skybent box that is my vehicle there is no clear signage towards it, just a door to an emergency exit staircase, wind billowing behind it, with a note in fluoro yellow fixed on its metallic facade and a bridge / corridor leading to empty waiting rooms.

I give up, decide I’ll go to the address given to me by the doctors tomorrow. I’ll go home and sleep now.

Home, I eat then I crash, I get into bed at 19h, I’m still here its now 6am and I’ll try sleep a bit more before I get a taxi at 9am.

I’m scared

It’s like some sick version of the night before christmas, black humour and absurdity have been welcome companions but armour fades in bed, so writing this in the knowledge I will share it with the online community has been the only thing I can do to douse the fear.

I’ll probably have to beg receptionists later but I just hope I get to someone who can start to mend me, because the blood is still coming, for the first time since it started it stained my sheets last night but I’ve wiped them down a little.

Sunday edit: the sheets are now in the wash.

Saturday edit: they did see me, I’m having an operation on monday at 9:30, the saga continues because I have to rush back to the gynaecologists first on monday to get a note so I can be operated on : as by the time I got out of hospital on friday the gynaecologists surgery was closed and nothing is open on the weekends.

And on the anaesthetists form where it asked me who would be collecting me or looking after me for 24 hours after the procedure I stubbornly wrote noone. Though my mentor will be around as I swallowed my pride and asked her.

And, of course, I just expect more bullshit: that was my dads very astute advice:

“Expect more bullshit Felice.”

So then, yes I should speak German, yes I should of sorted my insurance, yes I’ve been irresponsible.

Saturday edit: I’ve been utterly irresponsible and disrespectful to the country I live in, I MUST learn German and make more of an effort to learn their culture, right now I’m truly an idiot abroad.

I might cancel all my jobs next week as well if I’m really sick, I might not be able to go to Krakow and watch Eartheater,

Saturday edit: All my jobs are cancelled, one of the days next week is my birthday, which I’d scheduled a double clean on so perhaps it’s not all bad.

But I’m not going to see Eartheater, if you’ve heard irisiri though ( LISTEN TO IT, I IMPLORE YOU, MORE THAN ONCE, on the first listen it’s quite harsh: https://alexdrewchin.bandcamp.com/releases) then you’ll immediately understand that not going to her show because I’m having my uterus forcibly wedged open and something cut out of it, is utterly appropriate, it’s like missing formula one because you got hit by a ferrari.

I hope I’ll be better by turin.

Saturday edit: very much.

I will still finish this project whatever happens.

Saturday edit: Now I have a week off it should help.

But I’m not 100% sure how I will make ends meet this month.

Saturday edit: Perhaps the polyp they cut out of me on monday is really an alien and I get paid hush money not to leak the story to the press.

I really miss the nhs, its a big soft Pugsy bear I just want to hug and hold and thank for everything it’s done for me over the years.

The german health system is an amalgamation of all these callous female receptionists, ignoring you and filing their niles whilst you just bleed out in front of them.

But still, I’m stubborn, its a test and i will overcome it whatever it is. I am not leaving berlin, I am standing taller, stronger and more powerful than before. I’ve experienced completely new angles and feelings this week, it’s been abhorrent but kind of sickly enjoyable as well. Life is always entertaining as it energetically throws its bounty of strangeness, cruelty and beauty (etc) at you.

It’s all good fun, even the dark days.

I’m going to try get a bit of shut eye now, might move my alarm back a little see if I can get 2 hours before i wake up to get a taxi.

Take care everyone, if you made it to the end then I guess thank you for reading as well, it’s a long fraught one this week eh?