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#one day I will work on my writing imposter syndrome

bowtiepastabitch · 6 months

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Hi, have you ever read a post-s2 fix-it fic and thought to yourself, 'hmmm, I wish this would make me cry instead'?

Then you might(?) enjoy the incredibly angsty fic I'm writing! I actually cried a bit writing the chapter I published today; it was incredibly cathartic.

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“Crowley I-”

He breaks into a sob before he can finish his sentence, and then lurches forward. Their lips meet with crushing force, and Aziraphale’s hand reaches up to steady himself against Crowley’s shoulder. The touch is gentle but heavy and every inch of Crowley’s being is lit up, fuzzy and too warm to be natural. Aziraphale’s lips are just as soft as he remembers, and they press searchingly, desperately against his. For a singular, gloriously painful moment, the air crackles with electricity and unspoken words, and then it’s over.

Aziraphale jerks back as if struck, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t-”

Crowley reaches out a hand, to cup his face or to pull him closer again he isn’t sure, but Aziraphale catches him by the wrist. Crowley had forgotten how strong he is.

“Don’t.” The ragged whisper hangs in the air like a heavy fog.

“Angel-”

“Just… don’t.”

---

I've been procrastinating actually promoting my own work since I started this piece because I hate doing so, but here we are. Enjoy, I guess? (and if you don't enjoy it, please don't tell me so, I will cry)

#one day I will work on my writing imposter syndrome #but today?#is not that day #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #good omens angst #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable spouses #aziracrow #sad_dyke writes

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chuwenjie · 1 year

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Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse comes out later today so I wanted to write a post reflecting on my journey and experience working on this movie. So many people have supported me through this and I am so thankful to each and every one of you!

Text version of this post under the cut:

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse comes out tonight. It feels really weird to be typing that out right now. I worked on the movie as a visdev artist for the last 2.5 years, from 2020 to 2023. Long post incoming.

There are a lot of reasons why I'd consider this film to be one of the most ambitious animated films to ever be made. As artists, we were asked to push ourselves far beyond our comfort zones and do things that had never been done before in animation.

Every time we reached a point where most people would say "this must possibly be as creative and weird as it gets," our entire team of artists and animators would smash right through the ceiling. The driving direction for the visuals of the film was to push the limits of every single frame; to challenge audience expectations and make something truly original.

The best thing about this film was that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie. The hardest thing about this film was also that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie.

There were times while working on this where the imposter syndrome hit me hard. This was my first big movie, and what a hell of a first movie to get thrust into.

I came in only a few years out of school with absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing. I constantly feared that someone had made a mistake in bringing me onto this film, and I was going to let everyone down. There was a solid chunk of those 2.5 years where I wasn't sure if animation was the right path for me.

If there's anything I could tell my past self it would be this: there are so many people who love you and believe in you. There will be a time when you get to stand on the other side of it, look back on everything and see how far you came.

I'm still working on self-acceptance every day (it will be a lifelong struggle, I'm sure), but I'm glad I didn't give up on myself. I'm proud of myself and my contributions to this film, and I'm certain that this movie will continue to change and shape the animation landscape just as the first one did. That's truly a special feeling to have been a part of. I am so incredibly grateful to every single person who helped me along this journey.

Here come the thanks:

To the ENTIRE visdev & art crew- it's been an honor getting to work alongside each and every one of you. My jaw is literally still on the floor from seeing your incredible talent day after day.

I want to thank Tiffany and Felicia especially for being there for me through tough times- I admire and respect you both so much as artists, and even better than that, my life is greatly enriched for being able to call you my friends.

Thank you Patrick and Dean for taking chances on me, teaching me so much about art and what I'm capable of, and encouraging me along the way. To Aymeric, your art is one of the reasons I initially became interested in animation and you have been one of the kindest & most empathetic mentors I could ever have asked for.

I want to thank my wonderful parents for believing in me always and raising me into the person I am today: everything I do in life is to make you proud. To my brother Andrew who is perpetually awake at 3 AM when I need someone to talk to- thank you for always picking up the phone and making me laugh.

And finally to my partner Luke for making me grilled cheeses on all of the difficult days, for never getting sick of me even when all I would ever talk about was work, and for patiently and steadfastly loving me throughout this entire thing. I don't think I could've done it without you.

Starting tomorrow I will begin posting and sharing some of the art I made for this movie; I'm looking forward to sharing some of my personal favorites with you. I hope each and every one of you enjoys Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse when it hits theaters later today!

#visual development #visdev #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #gwen stacy

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tsyvia48 · 7 months

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Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them.

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences.

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one.

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through.

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman.

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent.

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since.

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life.

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation.

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch.

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

#crowley x aziraphale #good omens #neil gaiman #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #jewish good omens #aziracrow #jumblr #my art #ocean at the end of the lane #the graveyard book #the doctor's wife

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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So, I've been getting a few "hey, so now you're fixed, you're going to write books faster now, right?" type messages, and hmmm. That's a loaded word right there. "Fixed."

Yeah, not too keen on that word.

What I assume these people mean to do is congratulate me on finding out a major cause of distress and illness in my life and offer well wishes for my continued relief and recovery. I assume that's what was really meant. But just to entertain the first part of that ask, no, I am not "fixed."

There is no "fixing" the kind of chronic illness or disabilities I have. My ailments are genetic and lifelong, and if you're new here, newly diagnosed at the start of the pandemic, so my treatment thus far has been limited. Most of it is things I have pieced together myself.

That I've been able to do anything over the last year when I suffered 215+ migraine days on top of the connective tissue disorder I have, and the other condition that causes spontaneous anaphylaxis--not to mention the unmedicated ADHD I cannot treat with meds (yet)--is nothing short of miraculous.

So, now that my migraines are improving thanks to finding out I have binocular vision disorder on top of all the other stuff, will I be writing books faster?

I can only hope so.

But I also cannot say, "yes, absolutely, one book a year from here on out," because I just do not have the physical and mental capacity to guarantee that. Nor am I going to inflict that kind of mental and physical torture on myself (again) because it's the exact kind of thing that causes my health to crash and burn. And here's the thing:

Every time I burn myself out. Every time I push myself too far to keep up, it takes longer and longer to recover. The harder I push myself, the fewer books I will produce. That's the truth of it.

So I get it, it's frustrating. You want more of the fun thing (and thank you so much for loving what I do!), but you'll have to bear with me a little bit longer.

I am finding my stride as a multiply disabled creator, and I've spent the last two years untangling the guilt and imposter syndrome I experience over being "popular" but not being well enough to produce work at the same pace as everyone else around me.

I have worked out a system that I hope will be sustainable instead of leading to the continuous cycle of burnout I was trapped in for 10+ years as an editor. I have safety nets and supports in place that I didn't have before, and hopefully, those will help too. Time will tell.

Am I excited to get back to work? Absolutely. I'm ecstatic at the prospect of having fewer migraine days and more coherent brain days. But I'm also going to take my time to enjoy the process as well. I'd like to enjoy the things I write too. And I hope you can appreciate that.

So thank you for understanding, and for your patience. If you decide you can't wait, I'll understand. But please don't send authors, even able-bodied, neurotypical ones, messages like that. It's unkind. And I don't think any of you mean to be unkind.

#personal #author stuff #I really hope this doesn't come off as nasty #but the word 'fixed' is making the depression gremlins rabid #and I needed to say something

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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

#ruby rambles ‧͙⁺��*･༓☾

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sherifftillman · 10 months

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Worth the Wait

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!bartender!Reader Genre: smut Tags:Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected piv (pulling out) Summary: Your favourite customer has a confession to make, that he's very eager to. You wish you could believe him - if only he weren't drunk every time he saw you. Word count:7.1k A/N: God, this fic's been a long time in the making! I started writing it months ago, but then @choke-me-eddie wrote the phenomenal Jack Daniels and Coke and I gave myself massive imposter syndrome for ages lol, but one day I was going through my WIPs folder and something told me to start this up again. So, here it is! PS: the amount of time i spent on making that gif look like he's getting himself off for more than like 4 frames before feckin roof gets in the way, as naturally as i could get it, is between me and god. 😂

“Hello again, gorgeous,” your favourite voice slurs from the other side of the bar.

You see big, warm brown eyes greet you along with the biggest grin you’ve seen all day and your heart melts, despite the pang of disappointment. “Hello yourself, sweetheart. Back to drown more of your troubles?”

“Can I not just come over to my favourite pub and chat to my favourite barmaid, with no ulterior motive?” he pouts, leaning an elbow on the bar so he can rest his chin on his fist, a trademark pose for Tom.

“Not when you’re already pretty wavy,” you point out with raised eyebrows, wafting the air in front of him. “I can smell the Fosters on you a mile off. Didn’t take you for a piss drinker.”

He pulls a face, “Weren’t my doing, honest. Some of the blokes at work decided to get together an’ have dinner somewhere, an’ they bought everyone a pint each without asking us. I had to sneak in a couple of shots to take the taste away and then they bought another, so I had to drink even more.”

“Your life is so hard, babe,” you pout patronisingly, and he sticks his tongue out at you in response. You pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him. “Here. On the house, and that’s a deal only my favourite customers get.”

He looks at you disbelievingly. “As if water isn’t free for everybody, good one.” You smile back at him with just as much snark as he’s giving you as he drinks it all down in one go, and you take the excuse to watch his throat bob while he’s distracted.

You’ve always had a soft spot for Tom. Ever since the poor sod ended up at your pub following the break-up between him and his childhood sweetheart. You’d heard it all about Ruth, and her new friend Jade, and all of the accusations Ruth would make against Tom just to turn around and do the very same to him with Jade. The last time he visited became a real turning point, when he’d gotten especially drunk and admitted to you that he’d been questioning his attraction to her, himself.

“I don’t even know what it was that turned me off, you know. Or maybe it was never even there.”

“Well, is she your type? What kind of person are you usually into?”

“Pretty girls. Like you,” he drawled, resting his chin on his fist.

“Nice try, Mr Grant. I’d believe you if you weren’t so wasted,” you smirked.

“Ooh, Mr Grant, so formal. How’d you know that, anyway?”

“Your last name? Let’s see, your ID, your bank card… ’S not that difficult to find out.”

“Yeah, but you remembered it. I think you fancy me, too,” he grinned smugly.

“Too bad you’ll never know,” you shook your head, and he pouted at you.

“Not even gonna tell me? Tease.”

“Even if I did, there’s no way you’d remember in the morning, so there’s no point, is there?” you shrugged.

“Bet I would. I’d never forget something if it were about you,” he simpered.

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach and managed to keep your composure as you replied, “Alright, then, if you still feel the same way about me, but stone cold sober, I’ll give you my number. But only then.”

Tom had wanted to stay true to his promise so badly. He’d wanted nothing more than to just sit and watch you work and flirt relentlessly with you. No liquid courage needed. But of course it was Barry’s birthday, and Barry wanted all the lads together for dinner. Tom had felt honoured to finally be included as one of the lads, but it came at a price. A price that he felt too tipsy to then go back to his caravan, all alone with his thoughts. Only one person usually made him feel better in this state. And he’d promised you a sober confession. Yet here he was, giving you the exact opposite.

“Can I ’ave another one?” he asks, holding the glass out to you.

You kiss your teeth and shake your head, lightly lilting, “Alright, but soon enough, I am gonna have to start charging you.”

He narrows his eyes. “Water don’t cost nothing, though. We already established that, remember?” Still in his hand, he taps the empty glass against his head as you take out a fresh one for him.

“So, maybe I’ll have to think of other ways to have you pay for my efforts,” you smirk, putting the water down and resting your hands on your edge of the bar, shifting your weight onto your wrists.

“Oh, yeah?” Tom leans forward, intrigued, a coy smile playing on his lips. “What’s that, then?”

You wrinkle your nose, "Depends what you've got to offer."

"Just. This," Tom states as he steps back and gestures at himself with both hands, the slur that’s still present in his voice betraying him.

You sigh. "Remember the rule, Tommy boy," you waggle your eyebrows at him, and he groans.

"Yeah. I know,” he pouts as he grabs the glass with a frustrated force and starts chugging again.

You look at him with hopeful eyes. “There’s always next time, eh.”

~~~

“So, let me get this straight,” your best friend stops you, looking up in disbelief at the location you’d chosen. “You decided to get us all to meet up for drinks, for your birthday, and we could have gone anywhere. And you choose your work?!”

“Well, yeah, I’m not allowed to use my staff discount while I’m on shift, obviously, so why not take advantage of it on my big day, eh?!” You grin.

She rolls her eyes, “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you put up with me,” you rest your chin on her shoulder, still beaming from ear to ear as you both stumble into the pub together.

“Ooh, Tommy the Tank Engine at 2 o’clock,” your best friend giggles, pointing over at a group of men that, sure enough, includes Tom himself.

“Don’t point, dickhead!” You hush, grabbing her hand and shoving it back to her side. “Oh, bless him, look at him. Now, listen, you cannot let me get so drunk that I make a tit of myself in front of him, okay? I’ve got a - you know, a -” You wave your hand around in front of you, trying to think of a word. “Not quite reputation, but you know what I mean. A thing we’ve got.”

“I don’t think that I do,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Unless you mean, like… Because you’ve told him you’ll only believe him if he’s sober, you don’t wanna flirt with him while you’re drunk.”

“You get me,” you smile wistfully as you lean against her, cuddling up to her.

Giggling again, she shoves you away. “Gerroff, unless you really wanna give him the wrong impression! Besides, I say go for it, anyway. Ride that train,” she mimics pulling a steam train whistle and you scold her as you shove her towards the bar.

You meet up with the rest of your friends and have a shot with them. One of your regulars wishes you a happy birthday and buys you another. One of your coworkers gives you another one on the house.

You’ve totally forgotten who else was even here, until after your best friend insists on buying you your favourite cocktail, and as you shuffle between other people waiting at the bar to let others get out, you feel your back collide with the solid weight of someone else’s chest, followed by an all-too-familiar, “Easy, tiger!”

You take a deep breath in and look at your best friend in bewilderment before steeling yourself and pivoting to look at Tom, “Oh my god, hi! I’m so sorry!”

“’S alright. Someone’s having a good night, aren’t they?” He smiles down at you.

“It’s her birthday, you know!” Your best friend shouts over at him, and he gives a thoughtful frown back, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I did not know that, as a matter of fact! S’pose I better do my rightful duty and get the birthday girl a drink, too, shouldn’t I?”

“Trying to get me drunk, now, are ya? I see your game, Mr Grant,” you tease, earning a sly grin from him and a side-eye from your best friend.

“Fair’s fair, you’ve seen me plastered enough times,” he waggles his eyebrows at you. “What’s your poison, ladies?”

Tom buys both yours and your best friend’s drinks for you, and orders something for himself while your friend sneaks away to leave you both to it, though you don’t realise it. You frown when you see Tom pick up a full pint glass of Coke and point at it. “Big glass for a mixed drink.”

“Yeah. Almost as though it isn’t,” he smirks, moving his glass to chime it against yours. “Happy birthday, love.”

Though your heart sinks at the idea that he really did try to keep to his word tonight, you decide to keep up the playful rapport the two of you know so well. Punctuating your first three words each with a poke to the middle of his chest, you grin slyly, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to see me drunk, for once.”

Running two of his fingers alternately up your shoulder at his first three words, he mimics your tone, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to touch me.” He rests his wrist on your shoulder, and the fingertips that ghost the skin on your back send shivers all through you.

“Says the man who’s keeping his arm there,” you reply with a smug lipped smile, and he shrugs, that fake frown making another appearance on his face.

“Alright, I guess if you don’t want it,” he slides his arm away from you tantalisingly slowly, his eyes locked onto yours the whole time. You whimper involuntarily, your voice betraying you, when his fingertips are the only thing dragging against you. With a proud chuckle, he rests the heel of his hand back on your shoulder again, his fingertips leaving goosebumps where they ghost against the skin left exposed from the strap of your dress. “You should really get back to your friends now.”

“Not without you,” you pull a face at him, “not after all this! You bought the two of us a drink, remember, you can’t just leave us now!”

He smiles in quiet pride. “What would I tell all my mates, eh? That I’m abandoning them?”

“They can come over, too!” you counter. “My friends won’t mind, they’d love extra company.”

“Why, do you plan on being distracted all night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you again.

“Where’s this Tom been hiding then, anyway, eh?” you buffer his question with your own. “How come I don’t see this version of you when I’m sober? Am I that intimidating?”

“Ooh, yeah, dead scary,” Tom answers sarcastically, shaking his head and furrowing his brow, but he laughs when you waggle your fingers in a jokingly haunting manner.

“Will you at least drink with me, so I’m not the only one making an arse of myself?” you pout, trying to give him your best doe eyes.

“But then who will be here to document all your arse-ry?” Tom starts, but you interrupt.

“That’s not a word!”

“Piss off, drunky, how do you know?” he teases, laughing at your offended gasp. “No, if you’re gonna make a scene, I wanna make sure my head is crystal clear so I can lord it over you for the rest of time. As it is, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material to embarrass me with tonight,” he flashes his eyes at you as you approach his friend group, waving your own over.

You all eventually commandeer your own corner of the pub, you and Tom sat on one of the old leather sofas as the other is crammed with a mix of both his friends and yours, as well as others being peppered around on regular dining chairs. After asking around, and others insisting that they’re fine where they are, thereby refusing your invitation to join you and Tom on the sofa, your legs start to ache. Not being able to find enough floor space to stretch them out adequately, you simply decide to drape them across Tom’s lap, which he takes to naturally.

He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that they’re there at first, which has your mind turning over and over, until he starts gently, absent-mindedly stroking his fingertips up and down your leg. The tingles that shot through you at his touch earlier return again. He notices your longing stare in his direction and, without moving his head, glances over at you, winks, then looks back at the person he's talking to. The sensation that causes goes straight to your core.

“Whose round is it then?” one of your friends asks, standing just next to the sofa you’re sat on.

Leaning back, you wave her over so that she bends down to you, pulling her head down as close as it’ll get to your face before whispering in her ear, “Could you actually just get me a Coke? Nothing in it?” She nods and you grin at her as she stands tall again. “Oh!” You fish your staff ID out of your bag and hand it over to her. “Don’t forget to use that, don’t go paying full price here if you can help it!”

“Not exactly a great advertisement for this place, are you?” One of Tom’s friends asks amusedly before declaring he’ll buy the drinks in, and you watch as him and your friend go to the bar with the intent to order them - though even once they’re out of your earshot, you still notice that they seem to be distracting themselves.

Tom finally finishes his other conversation and nudges you to ask in an intrigued voice, “What were you two whispering about earlier, then?”

“And why’s that any of your business?” You ask back with a sly smile.

He shrugs, “Dunno, might have been about me.”

"If I was gonna talk about you, I'd say it to you," you grin, leaning to rest your head on the back cushion of the sofa.

"Yeah?" he asks with raised eyebrows. “In front of everyone?”

You shrug, “Depends. You got anything you want to tell me in front of everyone?”

He beckons you close with two fingers - a gesture you try desperately not to fixate on - and leans in close to your ear, cups his hand around it and whispers, "I proper fancy you."

"Yeah, and water's wet," you lean around to raise your eyebrows back at him, giggling as he frowns at you. “Glad to hear it from this version of you, though.”

He can't keep his frowning up for long, though, his own eyebrows soon waggling with anticipation. "Alright, so, c’mon, then. You got anything to say to me?”

You lean in with the intention to whisper back in his ear, but you get distracted by your friend handing you your drink, along with a very knowing look. “You two need a room?” They ask with a smirk.

“Like you two weren’t locking lips over at the bar?” You tease back, flashing your eyes over to Tom’s friend briefly. Laughing it off with you, your friend joins her new companion for the night as you settle yourself in next to Tom.

“Big glass for a mixed drink,” he repeats what you’d said to him earlier with a smug look on his face.

Knowing what he’s doing, you grin back, “Almost as if it isn’t.” Leaning across to grab his own glass again from the table, he clinks it against yours for the second time this evening and takes a big swig, his eyes never leaving yours.

When the pub finally closes, you, Tom, and those of your friends that haven’t already dispersed for the night, decide to make for the first fast-food place you see. One of Tom’s friends even takes advantage of Tom insisting on buying you a burger by holding his lighter on top of it while everyone sings Happy Birthday to you. You spend the last few minutes of your birthday surrounded by friends, old and new, singing and laughing and falling against Tom’s arm while he feeds you fries. Sure, you could have gotten even more drunk, found some other club that was open and danced the night away - but something about this just feels nicer.

Everyone’s figuring out their taxi situations when Tom turns to you. “What about you, which cab are you taking?”

“Neither,” you shake your head, scrunching your face up. He looks at you quizzically, and you hold your hand out in front of you to gesture down the road, moving it around a couple of times to gesture your route home. “Walking distance.”

Just as Tom's about to reply, he's interrupted by his friends yelling at him to get in their cab. He looks over at them and turns his nose up. "Nah, think I'm gonna stick with this one, not sure how much I trust these streets. I'll get my own later, it's fine." You don't hear exactly what his mates say, but the general tone of their collective jeering and grabbing Tom's arm as he bats them away and tells them, “Alright, gerroff!” tells you everything.

They chorus one more happy birthday! to you before Tom shuts the car door on them. You shout back that you'll treat them to a round next time they come into the pub and you can hear their cheers even when the door is shut, which makes you laugh. The pair of you wave both taxis off as they drive away, and you and Tom naturally link arms as you start walking back to your place.

"How you feeling?" he asks.

"Pretty damn good. You keep some decent company," you smile at him.

"What, that gaggle of idiots? Yeah, they're not so bad," he laughs softly. "Good birthday, d'you reckon?"

"Best so far," your smile widens as you hug his arm, leaning your head against it. He rests his head on top of yours, reaching over with his free hand to rub where your two meet around his bicep.

The pair of you make little pockets of small talk in the short walk to your house until you stop in front of it. Tom whistles as he looks it up and down. "What's your pay like at that pub? I'll have to start working there."

You laugh, "Calm down, I just rent out the top floor." You sigh happily. "Come see it, if you like."

"Ooh, inviting me in, eh? So late at night? Whatever will the neighbours say?" Tom teases, making you laugh.

"Oh, shut it," you smirk, shaking your head.

"Well, you are sending me mixed signals, here," Tom widens his face and crosses his arms. "See, I've wore my heart on my sleeve. I've told you what I think of you, many a time, in fact. And yet here you go, stringing a poor boy on, leaving him without a clue how you feel," he rocks himself from side to side, his movements and tone getting more and more extravagant as he keeps talking.

You swat at him playfully, "Shut up, or else you really will wake up the neighbours!" You step closer to him and beckon him closer. As he leans in, you move round to cup your hands over his ear and whisper, "I proper fancy you, too."

“Oh, yeah?” He murmurs seductively, reaching over to stroke his hands up and down your arms. “An’ how can I be so sure of that, drunky?”

“Piss off, I’m sober now,” you make the weakest attempt at shoving his chest, your palms flat against it, but it does nothing to his gait, only making him laugh under his breath. Instead, your hands grab the shirt beneath them as you grin, “C’mere,” and pull him in for a kiss. It’s filled with all the passionate relief of finally getting to do something you’ve both wanted for so long, and it only ramps up the longer you kiss for.

You hum in questioning, breaking away for a second to jerk your head towards your door, and he chuckles between even more kisses as he cradles your face, constantly pulling you back in for more. “Trying to get me inside, are you?”

With a sly smile, you pull back. “Well, if you don’t want to -” You swivel to face the door itself, digging your keys out of your bag, but Tom’s back on you in a flash. His body presses into your form as his hands slide back around your body, down to squeeze your hips, back up to wrap around your breasts, all while he kisses your neck.

You melt into his touch, leaning back to press yourself against him. You allow your hips to sway back and forth, grinding your ass against what is almost certainly a bulge straining against the denim. He hums against your neck, “Don’t even wanna wait ’til we get in? Dirty girl,” he accompanies his last remark by leaning back just enough to reach down and lightly spank your ass cheek, making you gasp audibly. Stepping forward to close the gap again, he nuzzles your ear as he purrs, “Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”

You whine in agreement and he continues nuzzling his nose down past your jaw, ghosting his lips against the sensitive flesh of your neck once again. You hum out a soft moan as you finally wrestle your key into the lock. The pair of you practically fall over each other to get through the door, but you're quick to pin him against it as soon as it shuts, kissing him desperately.

He moans into your mouth, "Oh, fuck, someone's eager, aren't you? Wanna just take me right here and now, huh?" You laugh against his lips as you keep kissing him. He hums back, "Let's see how much you want me, yeah?" as his hand ghosts beneath the skirt of your dress, sliding up your inner thigh to press against your core through your panties.

You whimper into the kiss and he drawls, "Fuck me, you're so wet, already. Thinking about this on the walk here, were you?" He slides a finger up and down the fabric of your underwear as he mutters into the inch of space between your lips. "Or while we were at the pub?" He asks as he presses against your covered clit. You grab at his shirt, where you'd already made a mess of it, and he whispers smugly, "Or have you secretly spent your whole birthday hoping it'd end with this?'

You cry out again, finally finding your voice, "God, please, Tom… Want more.” You look at him with pleading eyes and he chuckles back.

"Mmm, now there's a face that I've been dreaming about. But you were the one to pin me to the door here, so I think I should get to enjoy kissing you a little bit longer, at least," he mutters as he leans back in to resume his embrace.

"Tease," you accuse against him, and he laughs again.

"'M not teasing at all, sweetness, just been waiting so long for this, I wanna take my time an– Yeah, I'm totally teasing you," he grins as he cranes his head to kiss your neck again. You whine in protest, and he deftly moves your panties aside to slide one long middle finger inside of you. “Go on, then, just one, for now. Seeing as it is your birthday, an’ all,” he grins wickedly, but he soon melts against you as you squirm and moan around him. As his posture relaxes, you move your hands onto his shoulders and start pushing, which he points out with an amused, “You try’na tell me something there?”

“I mean, seeing as it is my birthday…” You counter, lilting with an obviously fake nonchalance.

Tom grins as he sinks himself lower. “Yeah, I’ll get on my knees for you, love.” Once he’s knelt at your feet, he feels his way up your thighs, past your dress until his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He looks up at you pleadingly with a soft noise of questioning, soon beaming once you nod in affirmation as he pulls them down to your ankles. He sighs dreamily as he looks up at you. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he breathes out. “Could just stare at you for hours.” You pout at him, and he responds with a cheeky, “Yeah, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just -” He sits back on his heels with a small, smug smile, “sit right back here and watch as - oh, someone’s twitchy, aren’t they?” He asks with soft intrigue, cocking his head to the side as he leans in closer between your legs.

“Tom, please…” You plead. “Enough teasing, now.”

“Yeah? Alright, then,” he sits up to bury his face into you, his tongue lapping away at the edges of your folds. “Mmm, y’taste so good, babe. So much better’n I imagined. C’mere,” he wraps his arms around your thighs as he carries on eating you out. He starts off so carefully, sweet little kitten licks to your clit and long, slow, drawn out ministrations through your core, but he takes the hint when you whine out in frustration, grab his hair and push his head further in.

He starts fucking you with his tongue, making you cry out in ecstasy, especially when he reaches up to rub at your clit in quick circles. You keel over and perch yourself on the door when he switches up to suck on your clit while sinking two fingers into you and curving them. He keeps mumbling into your skin, words you wish you could hear were it not for the blood pumping in your ears, but it seems as though Tom only intends for his compliments to be heard only between him and your cunt.

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily, and pushes himself up to stand, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He moans as he presses his body against yours, as though the thought of making you taste yourself is turning him on all the more. “Wanna fuck you,” he pants as he presses his forehead to yours. “Please, I wan- need to be inside you, like, now.”

“Not so cocky, now, are you, babe?” you smirk, and he laughs.

“No, miss, just one taste and I’m already wrapped ’round your finger,” he jokes.

You jerk your head behind you, “Think you can wait ’til we get up them stairs?”

Tom steps aside and gestures towards them with an, “After you.”

You laugh as you first kick away the underwear still sitting on your ankles before taking your shoes off, prompting Tom to do the same. He stays behind you as you run up the flight of stairs leading into your living area, though not without another soft smack to your ass as he follows it.

Once you’re back on flat ground, you hold your hand out for him to take, walking backwards as you pull him towards your bedroom, even while the pair of you lock lips once again. You scramble to get his shirt off before you’ve even reached your bedroom door, though every attempt to lean back and admire him is scuppered by him leaning in to keep kissing you, until you practically fall through the doorway.

You guide him over to your bed and push him down onto it. His hands explore your body as you stand between his legs, before sliding up your thighs and pushing your dress up over your ass. His hands grip your cheeks roughly as he pulls you closer, craning his neck around to look at it as he plays with it, gently slapping each one alternately as it jiggles and loving the sights and sounds of it. "Fuck, angel, want you so bad," he groans before looking up at you pleadingly. "D'you want me, too?"

Caressing his face gently, you beam, "Get the rest of those clothes off and shuffle back on the bed, and I'll show you." Tom scrambles backwards, wriggling himself free of his jeans and boxers as he does, until he's laying back on your pillows, clothes discarded on your bedroom floor. You slowly strip yourself of your own clothes, too, opting to shimmy your dress down past your hips, really putting on a show for him as you push it over your bare ass, before unclipping your bra, holding it high and dropping it down onto the floor.

You stop for a moment to just enjoy the sight of him, your favourite customer, laying on your bed, biting his lip as he jerks off to the sight of you right in front of you. You whimper as you fall to rest one knee on your mattress, rubbing at your own clit as you watch him, the tip of his cock peeking out through his foreskin with every tug, tantalising you. He looks just a little bigger and just a little wider than you're used to, and you feel your pussy drench beneath you at the thought of him filling you up. "You gonna keep that gorgeous body of yours that far away from me for long, sweetness?" Tom pouts, and you hurriedly climb him like a tree. You go to kiss him once you've straddled him, but he jokingly turns his head aside. “No, no, if you’d rather stay away from me, don’t let me stop you,” he jokes, and you consider playing him at his own game, but you realise the quickest way to get what you want.

Pouting, you lean yourself down onto him, especially making sure you squeeze your breasts against his chest, and croon, “Oh, please, Tom, I need you so bad. ’M sorry I got so distracted by what a pretty cock you’ve got, please let me ride it, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”

Tom slowly turns his head back to look at you, a proud smirk on his face as he lifts his head to place a hand behind it. “Go on, keep begging, that’s my girl,” he drawls, lightly tracing your back with the fingertips of his free hand.

Feeling your heart soar and cunt throb at the sentiment, you whine, grinding your hips against his, "God, Tom… Want you to fuck me so bad, been dreaming about it f'too long, need to feel it now, please? Just for tonight?"

Tom wrinkles his nose. "Dunno about that…" And for a fleeting second, you're filled with a disappointed doubt that he's changed his mind, until he grabs at you and, with a mischievous grin, throws you off to the side, wrestling your giggling self until you're the one laying beneath him. He perches himself on his elbows to hover above you, and playfully and tenderly strokes all around your face before purring happily between kisses, "'M definitely gonna fuck you tonight… But I'm also gonna fuck you in the morning… And again, a little bit after that… And again, after that… Sound good so far?"

You hum happily, "Sounds perfect. But, please can I have your cock inside of me, now? Have I earned it yet?"

"Aww, gonna milk it, pretty girl?" He coos, reaching down to guide his tip between your folds. "Gonna take it all in that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Gonna be good f'me?" You nod, whining desperately as you feel him starting to push into you. "Oh my god," he whimpers as he enters you, kissing you passionately as he fills you. Your hips start to buck down instinctively as he moves, and he tuts, "Fussy girl can't wait?"

You pout your lower lip out, "'M not fussy."

He does the same expression back to you sarcastically. "You're not?" He asks mockingly as he slowly starts pulling out. You grab his shoulders in protest, and that wicked smile of his comes back. "Fuck me, you are dirty, aren't you?" You nod in defeat, and he presses another kiss to your lips. "Good," he beams before sinking himself back into you, filling you up.

Your fingers dig into the supple flesh just above his shoulder blades as your legs wrap around his hips. "Oh, fuck, Tom… So much… Better…"

"Better, eh? So you'd think about me, too? While I spent - mmm - my nights getting off to the - fuck - thought of you, you were - shit - doing the same?" You nod, whining in agreement, and he moans as his thrusts get more frantic. "Fuck, I've wanted you - needed you - for so long, now… Never letting you go, never gonna stop - ah, shit, yes," he groans.

You pout at him, "Not even at least long enough for me to get on all fours?"

He looks at you as though all of his Christmases have come at once. "You want that?"

You nod, biting your lip. "And, since you love it so much, you can pull out and cum on my ass, if you want."

Add all his birthdays at once as well, based on his reaction. "Always knew you were the perfect woman, holy shit," he mutters in awe as he pulls out of you. You turn yourself around to get on your hands and knees, arching your back to present yourself to him, and he grabs at your ass to admire the sight in front of him, and he growls under his breath. A guttural, feral sound that has you clenching around nothing. “Been thinking about this much, then?”

“Oh, only pretty much every time I’m closing up the bar,” you chirp in reply. “Why’d you think I’ve been asking for you to stay sober for a night?”

“Fuck, if this is what one night gets me, I’m going teetotal,” he sighs wistfully, making you giggle.

“What was that line you gave me earlier about keeping that body away from me?” You tease, biting your lip as you anticipate the inevitable spank to your ass cheek with glee.

“Cheeky,” he smirks back as he admires how your skin ripples under his touch, "not so fun when it's the other way around, is it?"

"Does that mean you're gonna beg for me now, then?" You ask hopefully.

Tom pushes your back down enough for him to lean over you entirely to be within whisper distance of your ear. You feel his cock pressing into the crack of your ass as he whimpers, "Oh, please, miss, let me fuck you into oblivion. 'M such a good boy f'you, been waiting all this time to show you, been thinking about this all along. Please give me what I want."

"Yeah?" You moan against your pillow. "Tell me as you're filling me up again."

You feel him start to line his cock up with your pussy from behind as he admits, "Think about the day you'd finally tell me to hang back. I'd sit you on the pool table and eat that sweet little pussy of yours 'til it stains it. Bend you over that bar - that you've been spending months teasing me behind - an' just -" He lets out a long, shaky breath as he pushes his tip inside of you, revelling in the feeling of your cunt immediately pulling him in for more.

"Please, Tom…" you whine. "'S all I think about when I'm closing, too. Can't look anywhere without thinking of how you'd fuck me," you admit half-sheepishly as you rock back onto him.

Tom's hips buck to meet yours as he groans. "God, I've been a fucking idiot, then, haven't I?" He half-laughs.

"'S fine, just - fuck me now, please? Just how you’ve always wanted to?" You beg, crying out in delight as he grabs your hips and starts thrusting frantically into you.

You've always thought it was cliche as all hell when people say that with the right person, it feels as though they're made for you - but Tom barely needs any direction from you to bring you to your apex. He feels right inside of you, he's hitting just the right spots at just the right pace, without you even needing to ask him. And the sounds he makes as he's fucking you, just the knowledge that you're clearly making him feel the same way, turns you on even more.

His moans become more strained, and his grip tightens. "Fuck, babe, need - need to feel you cum so I can - fuck, are you close?"

You whine out an, "Almost. I can get there quicker, though," you start shuffling to reach down between your legs, but Tom bats your hand away.

"Please, allow me," he smirks as he strokes your clit up and down.

"Such a gentleman," you tease, and he chuckles.

"Not much gentle about me, love," he purrs before rubbing your clit in deliberate, tight, fast circles, slapping your ass once more for good measure and practically losing himself inside of you when he feels how you clench around him at that.

When you climax, it's more intense than you've felt for a long time, if at all. You paint his cock in your juices, and he only just about manages to pull it out of you in time to spread warm spurts of thick cum against your ass.

You flop down onto the bed, still stomach first, in exhaustion, smiling wistfully at the feeling of Tom lightly dragging the tip of his cock through the strings of cum he's left on your ass cheeks. "Having fun back there?"

"Just sort of sinking in that it's really happened," he replies in a state of dazed happiness. "How you feeling?"

"Good," you smile back in the same tone, "so very good."

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly.

"Should probably clean up," you mutter into your pillow, "but I don't wanna move right now."

Tom laughs, "C'mon, let's see if we can share a shower without you trying to go for round two, eh?"

You sit up on your knees, pivoting to face him, and gasp in shocked offence, making him laugh even more. “Oh, if I can, eh? And what about you?!”

He leans in with a grin, holding you by the throat as he kisses you deeply, longingly. “I already know I can’t.”

Once you’re both stood up, the rest of the night catches up with you and you both spend a moment blinking at each other heavily and laughing in exhaustion. You do share a shower, but it’s tender, soft, intimate. Lots of gentle caressing and slow kisses as you bathe Tom in your signature scent, the two of you becoming as one.

When you’re all clean, dry, and snuggled in Tom’s arms in your bed, you sigh. He turns his head to rest his face against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss to it as he asks, “What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“Don’t want to fall asleep, now. Means it’s over,” you mumble into his bare chest.

“What, d’you really think I’m gonna ghost you after this?!” Tom asks with amusement. “You’re stuck with me now, babe.”

“Oh, no(!) How terrible(!)” You joke, and Tom gasps.

“Cheeky!”

“Ah, can’t reach down to spank me now, can you?” You tease.

Tom hums sleepily, “Hmm, I’m keeping track in my head of what I owe you, don’t you worry,” and you giggle. “Y’know, this wasn’t really how I wanted to do things with you.”

“How’d you mean?”

Tom shuffles a little, “Well, y’know. The deal was only ever to get your number, at first. Then, I was gonna wow you with my excellent flirting skil- why’re you laughing?” He pokes the soft part of your side, tickling you and making you laugh even more. “Anyway, wanted to do it all… Y’know, proper. Wine and dine you, so you knew it was for real.”

You frown, tracing the freckles on his chest absent-mindedly. “Yeah, but you did do all that. You bought me a drink at the start… Bought me my burger… And I think I know how you feel about me well enough by this point,” you grin. “Just thought you’d earned a night of teasing me, for once. Don’t get too used to it, though.”

“Oh? Sounds like a challenge,” Tom smirks, and you laugh. He sighs happily, “I really do like you, by the way. Not just drunky Tom, an’ I wasn’t just trying to get you in bed, neither. Not that I’m complaining,” he squeezes you closer to him, smiling into your hair.

“I like you too, Mr Grant,” you tease back, looking up at him to kiss him. One kiss gets followed by another, and another. “Things just feel right with you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies wistfully. “Like… Not to bring up my ex, but being Ruth was just like… Doing it to get it over with, d’you know what I mean? Like we did because it’s a thing people do. But that was just fun, like we were having a laugh but it was so fucking good at the same time. ’M just sorry I only made you come the once, especially on your birthday. How inconsiderate, eh?!” he jokes, and you laugh so loudly that your hand flies up to your mouth, but Tom gently guides it back away, watching you with adoration.

“Trust me, that was plenty! If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t get to play with you more,” you go back to playing with his freckles.

“Right, so, plan is, we get up nice an’ early in the morning, you suck me off and then ride my face until you’ve had at least three orgasms, yeah?” Tom jokes.

Laughing, you offer, “Deal. If you’re still asleep when I wake up, I'll just get started and wait for you to catch up, shall I?"

"God, it's like you're in my brain," Tom shakes his head as you both fill the room with laughter.

“S’pose we should get some sleep then, shouldn’t we?” You suggest, shuffling around until you’re comfortable. He matches your posture easily, spooning you and wrapping you up in his embrace as he settles down next to you.

“G’night, love. Hope you enjoyed your birthday,” he muses in your ear.

“Definitely the best one yet.” You smile sleepily as you feel him lean over to kiss your cheek, and turn your head around to sneak in a few more kisses before finally falling asleep.

tagging a few people who might especially want to read, feel free to tell me if you don't want to be tagged <3: @keerysquinn @pedgito @babybluebex @reysorigins @keeponquinning

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 6 months

Text

Request from @captainswintersoldier: Can you please write a story where reader goes back in time and meets her boyfriend Bucky in the 1940s?

Word count ~3.3k

Warnings: smut, p in v, mild fingering described, angst, mention of blunt force trauma and cardiac arrest (of original characters) and some comforting Bucky at the end.

A/N: shoutout to @samodivaa for your help and support! Love you!

The mission was simple: go back and gather intel. It was a small change but the team hoped it would correct a lot of wrongs.

You were nowhere near Brooklyn, no chances of anyone recognizing you. The risks were negligible. Or so you thought. You had infiltrated the barracks under the guise of a trained nurse. It wasn’t a tall order, you had almost completed your training and you knew your stuff, but occasionally your imposter syndrome would make you feel a little anxious about your activities.

It wasn’t something that concerned you too much tonight though, as you danced at the center of a throng of burly WWII soldiers. You’d completed your mission and you could relax until the time came for you to return home. There had been multiple offers of drinks but you needed to keep your wits about you. You had duties to fulfill and a cover to maintain.

Duty did call halfway through the evening. Two inebriated soldiers had fallen victim to their own drunken rambunctiousness and one of them needed stitches to their temple. You had to tear yourself away from the festivities to suture up the intoxicated infantry recruit and now had to clean up the mess he had made in your infirmary.

As you worked you sang quietly to yourself.

“The good old days, the honest man,

The restless heart, the Promised Land,

A subtle kiss that no one sees,

A broken wrist and a big trapeze.”

You were in the process of replacing your supply of gauze supply and in your eagerness you'd picked up more than your arms could handle.

“Oh well, I don't mind if you don't mind,

'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine.

Before you go,

Can you read my mind?”

You might have been a little too enthusiastic with your hip swaying because without warning you had stepped back and stumbled over the leg of the examination couch. Several packets of gauze went flying in every direction as you fell backwards. You expected to find yourself lying on the floor, but a strong arm was wrapped around your waist and lifted you back up slowly.

A green uniform came into view and you steadied yourself on a sturdy chest before you came face to face with a pair of dazzlingly familiar blue eyes. A gasp slipped past your lips as you took in the features of the handsome young soldier holding you upright. His eyes were the same as the ones you knew and loved, except they lacked the haunted look you’d come to know. Instead you saw glimmers of mischief and excitement, and was that lust?

“Well hello there, gorgeous. You trying to read my mind?” Bucky flashed you a glittering grin.

“I- what are you doing here?”

Confusion painted your features and you extracted yourself from his arms.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. You'd checked, he wasn't supposed to be here!

“See the thing is, I couldn't just let a gorgeous woman just spend all her time here alone while everyone else is out there enjoying the party.”

His words had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“You're not supposed to be here, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You know who I am?” His eyes lit up.

You rolled your eyes but your smile gave away the fact that you were charmed.

“I've seen you around,” you lied but your tone said something different altogether.

Stop flirting! Everything about him brought out your playful side.

“And I've definitely noticed you. I've never seen anyone as stunning as you.” He took your hand and lifted it to his chest, just around his heart.

A soft blush stained your cheeks and you could feel your heart fluttering wildly. How was he having such a powerful effect on you? This man in front of you was maybe ten years younger than you were, yet here you were swooning and melting into his arms.

“Say, if you're stuck in here, how about I bring the party to you?”

“Oh? What do you suggest?”

Bucky sauntered over to the window of the infirmary and pushed it open to let in the sound of music.

“May I have this dance?” Bucky put his hand out to you with his palm facing up as an invitation to you.

You couldn’t resist the temptation to take his hand, letting Bucky snake his arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. He smelled exquisite and you closed your eyes to take in his scent. It was only then that you realized that the fingers that he had pressed into your waist were made of flesh and bone. Bucky still had his left arm and he was holding you with it. You ran your hand along it.

“You like what you feel?” he smirked at you.

You shook your head with incredulity at how much confidence and sex appeal that was oozing off the man. It was like he was a totally different person from the man you loved. He probably was. Your Bucky had been through a huge transformation, lost everything he knew and loved. The man in front of you now was the caterpillar version of your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help but be captivated by him. Silently you let him lead as you swayed to the distant music.

As the music finally faded away, Bucky stilled but didn't let you go.

“So are we going to stand here all night?” you asked.

“It's just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

Ordinarily, you would never have been so bold as to speak to a man you’d just met in this sort of tone. But you knew Bucky, even if he didn’t know you. Now you were just testing his boundaries. And true to his form, Bucky leaned into you, holding you close, he pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was exquisite, familiar but different all at the same time. It was exciting and somehow terrifying. For the briefest of moments, you wondered what your boyfriend would think, before you put the thought to the back of your mind and let him kiss you again.

A few days later, you found yourself in the midst of a crisis. One of the new recruits was in the middle of a training session when he was slammed in the chest with a shield as he was brandishing a bayonet. The kid went down like a tonne of bricks, lying unconscious on the floor.

You were walking past when you heard his fellow cadets’ panicked shouts. In a flash you were at his side assessing him. A few shouts in his ear, your ear to his mouth and your fingers on his neck told you that he wasn't breathing and his heart wasn't beating.

“What happened?” you demanded from the scared men standing around watching you as you started CPR.

A few stuttered words and you extrapolated the rest. It was a long shot and you'd only ever seen them successfully perform the maneuver on television, but what the hell!

You lifted your hand and made a fist and brought it down forcefully in the center of his chest. The reaction was immediate, the young boy opened his eyes, gasping and coughing.

Your legs collapsed under you from the kneeling position you'd been in, Your heart wasn't the only thing that was pounding and you thanked your lucky stars that you'd had the guts to make the move. But your job wasn't done yet. The recruits had gathered themselves together and fetched a stretcher and carried their teammate to the infirmary. It took you around an hour to make sure the newbie was stable, but as you worked you could see Bucky hovering around out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey you.” You smiled at Bucky as you closed the door to the now stable and sleeping cadet. “You don't need to worry about Simmons, he'll be just fine.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he will be.” Bucky approached you slowly. “How’re you doing?”

“I'm alright,” you answer, finally noticing the predatory look in his eyes.

The blue of his eyes was darker than you remembered them. It made your heart skip a beat and you wondered if you too needed to be hooked up to an EKG machine like poor Simmons.

“I'm glad.”

His hand came to rest on your waist. Bucky stood in front of you. When had he gotten so close?

“Bucky?” you questioned his subtle approach.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, his other hand was on your hip.

He took another step forwards, pushing you backwards. Again and again until you were inside your office. As soon as the door closed he had you up against it, one hand on the small of your back and the other cupping your face.

“Bucky,” you muttered breathlessly. “What-”

There wasn't time for you to finish your question as his lips claimed yours with a hunger that you'd not seen from the young man before. Until now he had only been sunshine and roses with his words and demeanor.

But here and now, there was no doubt in Bucky's mind what he wanted from you. He was desperate, he was hard, he needed you. His thoughts were different, dirty, downright sinful. They poisoned his mind, like a plague. He was going to take what he wanted, right here against the wall of your infirmary.

You moaned as his lips moved down to your neck. Hands roamed your body as his hips thrusted into yours. There was no mistaking the erection he was sporting. He was making you feel like Niagara Falls under your skirt. Bucky slipped a hand underneath it, pulling aside your panties dipping his fingers inside you.

“Buck-” you tried to suppress a moan.

He answered by spreading his fingers and stretching your walls, making you whimper and whine into his neck. You dug your nails and teeth into his exposed skin as his thumb found your clit. The way he growled your name had you teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your walls fluttered around his fingers expectantly.

“Now why'd ya have to go get ahead of yourself, huh Doll?” Bucky pulled his fingers out of you and licked your essence off them.

“Bucky,” you whined. You started unbuckling his pants, pulling him free from the constraints of his briefs.

His fingers ran over your bare ass and down your thighs as you prepped him with a few pumps. He moved closer so you could line him up to your dripping entrance before he slammed into you with relative ease. You arched your back as he ran his fingers through your hair and tugged at the strands. Even after all this time, you couldn’t get used to his size. Bucky shoved his fingers in your mouth, filling it and muffling your carnal moans. His mouth was close to your ear and you could hear him mumbling a string of profanities into it along with something about how tight you were and how ruined you’d be when he was done with you.

He removed his fingers from your mouth to grab your hips again, pulling you towards him as he slammed into you repeatedly. He lifted your leg, opening you up before pushing deeper inside you. Then his tip brushed over that perfect spot inside you and your mouth was open but no sound left it. You wanted to scream but all you could do was gasp as he fucked the air right out of your lungs.

“Pleeeease.”

“Please what, Doll? Use your words, darling.” His mouth was on yours, swallowing your moans like they were the oxygen his body craved.

“Right there, Bucky. Please.”

You could feel the smirk on his lips as he thrusted his hips to hit your g-spot. And you knew the pace he was keeping would be your undoing.

“Faster Buc-”

Your young soldier had no more smart mouthed comments for you, just rocking his hips faster, his rock hard member filling you completely. Your body quivered dangerously as your orgasm built up, his cock twitched inside you. He was close too, every wanton sound pushed you closer and closer to your release, until you finally climaxed. Your walls clenched around him, legs shaking uncontrollably as he growled curses and filled you up with his white hot cum. You clutched his shoulders tightly as you both rode out your highs, panting until you felt like you could breathe again.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Bucky put a finger under your chin and tilted your face up so you were looking into his eyes.

Why did his dazzling blue eyes have this dumbfounding effect on you? Slowly and gently he pulled out of you, pulling your panties back into place.

“Don’t want to spill anything, right?” he grinned at you before turning slightly to tuck himself away.

His words made you flush in a way that you hadn’t done since he had strutted into your infirmary. Present Bucky had never spoken to you like this, he was so much more restrained than this rapscallion in front of you.

“I have to go.”

He surprised you with a deep but gentle kiss before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived, leaving you feeling a little unsettled.

The next time he came to find you was under different circumstances.

“Hey you,” you greeted him fondly, picking at the collar of his uniform jacket.

He pulled you to the side, one of his hands grazing your back while the other hand wrapped around your arm to guide you around the corner. The absence of his usual swagger should have alerted you to the oncoming storm.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “Mmm, Buck!” you murmured as you felt something hard pressed against your leg. “Not out here!”

“Well it just so happens that I have a bottle of pretty good rye in my pocket.” He smirked at you.

“Oh and here I thought you were just happy to see me.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Doll.” The smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes and you were well versed in reading Bucky’s face, he hadn’t changed as much as you’d originally thought.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?” you asked tentatively.

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

You run your fingers over the small ridges on his brow and around his eyes, the ones you’ve seen far more often than you ever hoped to. And now you could see them on the young soldier’s face.

“I feel like you know me better than I know myself.”

“Maybe I do,” you whispered against his lips.

The gesture was intimate but you’d suddenly been gripped by fear and you wanted to keep him close. He looked down at the floor, not making eye contact with you, his hands were stuffed in his pockets and he shuffled his feet nervously. When he finally looked back up at you, sadness shining in his beautiful blue eyes, you knew why he had come to you.

“Don’t go,” you shook your head.

Bucky sighed. “I have to, Doll.”

“Please,” you begged.

“I gotta go help my friend out, my unit.”

“I’m sure they’d manage fine without you. Stay here with me.” You were clutching at straws.

“When Captain America asks for your help, you can’t say no.”

“You can. I’m sure Steve would understand. He’s your best friend.”

“That’s exactly why I have to go. Someone needs to keep that punk’s nose out of trouble.”

Words failed you, you knew he wouldn’t stay. Not even for you. You flung your arms around his neck, your whole body trembling with fear and anxiety. “Please,” you whispered into his neck, over and over.

Bucky held you close, his hands wrapped tightly around your back until you fell silent. Eventually he pulled your arms down from his neck so he could see your face. His palms cupped your cheeks and he brushed your tears away with the tips of his thumbs.

“Don't worry, Doll. I won't be gone long.”

Fresh tears leaked from your eyes at his words. You knew the truth, what future waited for him. There was nothing more you could say that would change his actions. It would be like a leopard trying to change its spots. Not that you would try, Bucky's loyalty to his friends was one of the things you loved the most about him.

“I'll be back soon. I promise.”

You wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep but you just stood there, relishing the feeling of his left hand on your face. It felt as though time was standing still, you didn't want things to change.

But just as the thought formed in your head, the moment was interrupted by a distant yell. Bucky turned to the sound of his name being called.

“I gotta go, Doll.” He pressed his lips against yours one last time before backing away slowly until the hand he was holding couldn’t stretch any further.

He flashed you a sad smile. You closed your eyes to blink away your tears and when you opened your eyes again he was gone.

It felt like hours that you stood against the wall, it was the only thing holding you up as you reeled from the loss. The reverie you'd lost yourself in was broken by a strong vibration from the hidden device in your pocket.

It was time for you to go home.

You stumbled into your office and activated the device that would take you back to your own time.

The journey was tumultuous and you staggered out of the other side of the wormhole, collapsing straight in your boyfriend's arms. Sobs wracked your body as he held you tightly and you mumbled muffled apologies into his chest.

Bucky looked around at the others bewildered by your reaction. He felt your arms and legs looking for signs of injuries that might have upset you.

“I'm here, Doll. I'm here. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He cradled you into his arms and carried you away from the other watching Avengers. Finally your breathing slowed and your tears dried up. You looked up at Bucky’s anxious features.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled down at you.

“Hey,” your voice squeaked as you answered him.

“Wanna talk about it? ‘Cause not gonna lie, Doll, I'm kinda worried. What happened?”

“You weren't… you weren't supposed to be there.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were there, Buck.”

“I was?”

“You don't remember?”

Bucky shook his head. “You saw me?”

“Yeah. You were pretty cute.” You smiled shyly, wondering how Bucky would take this.

“Did I hurt you?”

You hated the fear behind his words.

“No, Bucky, of course not. But I-”

“What?”

You felt ashamed of what you were about to tell him and you looked down at your hands when you made your confession. “I knew that if I stopped you leaving, that I'd lose you here. I'm sorry. I was selfish. Everything you've been through is my fault.”

Bucky sighed, he hated seeing you so upset, especially over something that you were never responsible for.

He took your face in his hands, the same way he had done in 1940. The only difference now was his cold vibranium fingertips against your flushed cheek. “Look, I still have a lot of gaps in my memory from… before. But one thing I know for a fact is that you aren't responsible for what happened. Got that?”

You sighed and let your boyfriend envelope you in his arms. Maybe one day you'd believe him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #skittle's requests

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bloodynereid · 3 months

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hello!! (2nd request of the day let’s goo). i was wondering if you could do something with a gn reader and either jordan, rooster, phoenix, or hangman?? it’s completely up to you. reader comes from a rough household with like a lot of yelling and swearing and door slamming (from parents and younger siblings) and at one point ____ (insert character here) yells and they kinda just freak out and cry or something because it reminds them of home?? and lots of comfort after?? - 🧚🏻

Sorrys & I Love Yous

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x gn! reader

tw: bradley is sort of an asshole in this im sorry but it fit with the fic, screaming, crying, trauma response

description: memories and feelings of your past resurface after an incident regarding dinner.

a/n: hii🧚🏻anon! sorry that it took me so long to write this and also sorry that this is so short i'm trying to get back into writing! also i hope it was ok that i chose rooster, he just made the most sense (i was thinking of the jake and bradley fight in the briefing room) and this is good ?? idk i think im having imposter syndrome with my writing haha. also as someone who has had this sort of thing happen to them i hope i wrote this okay, it's based off my own experience but who knows.

It had been a good day at work. You had been able to finish a piece your editor had been nagging you about and you were actually happy with the final product. It seemed like it was the opposite for Bradley though.

You arrived back to your shared house on the coast later than usual, you had stayed back to chat with some of your colleagues about the new issue of the magazine and time ran away from you. You had parked your car next to Bradley’s bronco and felt a surge of happiness at seeing the familiar blue vehicle.

“Hi honey!” You called out into the lit house after dropping your keys on the little dish beside the door.

“Hey.” Bradley called back to you from the living room, where the familiar sounds of a football game blared out.

You smiled and kicked off your shoes before ambling over to the couch and giving Bradley a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

“How was work?” You asked as you sat down next to your boyfriend.

“Shitty.”

“Jake being an asshole again?”

“Hmm.” He hums back in assent and you nod in understanding before getting up and walking over to the kitchen. Usually the first person who comes home makes some kind of dinner but as you stare at the empty counters and unlit stove a pang rang through your heart.

“Bradley, honey, did you make dinner?”

“What?” You cringed slightly and turned to look over your shoulder to your distracted boyfriend.

“Did you make dinner?” You repeated.

“No.”

“Uh, is it okay if I just order something?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Right.”

You went to grab your phone from your discarded bag and started to scroll through the usual restaurants.

“Bradley, honey, what do you want to eat?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want to eat?” You repeated in a slightly annoyed tone, he wasn’t acting like himself and it was getting on your nerves.

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?” You asked incredulously as the man finally met your eyes and a twist of his mouth made a shudder run down the length of your back. It reminded you of your father right before he started yelling in your face.

“Why the hell are you on my case? You’re the one who’s fucking late, what the hell were you doing anyways?!” Bradley yelled out, his voice escalating as his fist clenched around the beer bottle. After a few tense moments it was like your brain went on autopilot.

Your nerves seized up, your vision went white and a whimper escaped your throat. You felt rivers of water start to fall from your eyes and you felt completely and utterly powerless.

When Bradley realized what he just did he quickly let go of the beer bottle and moved to scoop you up in his arms but you still weren’t totally there. Your body seized up and you were suddenly running away from him and into the downstairs bathroom.

The loud bang of the door hitting the frame echoed through the house as you turned the lock and slipped down until your legs were against the cool tile.

Shivers racked your body and sobs fought their way out of your throat and lungs.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” You muttered out loud in between sobs.

“Honey? Y/N?” Bradley’s now soft voice, the one you were used to, bled through the wood. “Are you okay?” At that a loud sob escaped from your gasping lips.

“Please open the door. I- I’m really sorry. I, fuck, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s my fault, I should have made dinner and instead I screamed at you when you didn’t do anything wrong… sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” You whispered out.

“Oh there you are. Can you please open the door?”

Taking a deep breath in, you carefully pushed yourself up from the floor and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Swiping your hands against your cheeks you let out another sob before turning around and turning the lock before opening the door.

You were met with the sight of Bradley who had a bereft look on his face. He looked like a puppy who had just been left behind for the first time.

“Oh sweetheart.” He gathered you up into his arms and you encircled yours around his body, clutching him tight.

“What you did was wrong.” You muttered into his shirt as tears continued to run down your face. “You hurt me Bradley.”

“I know and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve that and you’re free to break up with me if you want. I was being a total asshole.” A teary laugh left your throat and you broke your embrace to look at his face.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you idiot! But I do agree with you being an asshole.”

“I deserve that.” You snorted before Bradley leaned over and placed a peck on your forehead.

“I’m really fucking sorry.” He said again and you nodded.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

this was only re-read like 2 times so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes <3

#bradley bradshaw #maria's random stuff #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #bradley x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader

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nanowrimo · 5 months

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How to Write a Quality First Draft

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. ProWritingAid, a 2023 NaNo sponsor, helps you turn your rough first draft into a clean, clear, publish-ready manuscript. Today, author Krystal N. Craiker shares some tips on how to make sure your first draft has some good bones to start with:

One question I often hear about National Novel Writing Month is, “Won’t my novel be of terrible quality?”

It’s true that writing 50,000 words in 30 days won’t give you a polished manuscript. And it’s always great to embrace the creative mess of the first draft.

However, there are some tricks to ensure that your first draft has plenty of usable content. These tips are also a great way to move your story along when you get stuck.

1. Have a Plan

Pantsers, this might be hard to hear. But having even a basic outline of your story can ensure you stay on track. You don’t have to sacrifice creativity when you outline. After all, you’re still the author creating a story.

A detailed outline can even act like your messy first draft. The more work you put into planning, the better your first draft will be. When I spend more time plotting, I spend far less time cutting things from my later drafts.

2. Make Every Scene 3D

Okay, I get it. Not everyone is a plotter. Luckily, there are other things you can do to ensure your first draft is good quality. One is adding enough sensory detail to bring your story to life.

I like to use a 3D method: have at least three of the five senses in every scene. It’s a great trick to improve the flow of your scene. Take a few minutes to immerse yourself in your story and write what your characters are experiencing.

You might change it or move it around in your final draft, but you’ll save yourself time during revisions if you add sensory detail from the beginning.

3. Reword Your Writing

Sometimes we get stuck after one bad sentence. The imposter syndrome kicks in, and the scene just falls flat.

Ideally, we completely turn off our inner editor during NaNoWriMo. But when you encounter that one pesky sentence, it’s okay to rewrite it.

You can use a tool like ProWritingAid’s Rephrase. Just highlight your sentence, click Rephrase, and select a new sentence. Rephrase uses your own words and enhances them. And don’t worry about security and privacy—ProWritingAid never uses your writing to train AI.

4. Embrace the Chaos

Of course, the most important thing about National Novel Writing Month is to embrace the messy creative process. It’s okay not to have a perfect manuscript at the end of the month—no one will.

Everyone will need to revise, edit, and rewrite after November ends. That’s why NaNoWriMo includes "I Wrote a Novel... Now What?" resources. And when you’re ready to turn your mess into a masterpiece, ProWritingAid will be there to help.

Krystal N. Craiker is the Writing Pirate, an indie romance author and content writer who sails the seven internet seas, breaking tropes and bending genres. She has a background in anthropology and education, which bring fresh perspectives to her romance novels. When she’s not daydreaming about her next book or article, you can find her cooking gourmet gluten-free cuisine, laughing at memes, and playing board games. Krystal lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband, child, and basset hound.

Top photo by No Revisions on Unsplash

#nanowrimo #writing #first draft #writing advice #writing tips #by nano sponsor #firstdraftpro #krystal n. craiker

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homecomingvn · 3 months

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Hey everyone! It's, uh, it's certainly been a minute.

If my brief return a few months ago and then radio silence yet again is any indicator, I'm sure most of y'all probably know where this is going.

HOMECOMING, as of now (and for the indefinite future) is going to be on hiatus, and maybe discontinued.

This project initially started out as a silly idea, a culmination of my love for the yandere vn community and the wonderful games it has created, and my original plot and cast of characters. In the beginning, I was trucking along, working on scripts, planning out routes, spending hours of research on coding and how to get this thing up and running. Not to mention, the attention my silly lil project garnered was a lot. At least to me. I've had a semi popular writing blog before, and was no stranger to inbox asks, and how they pile up, or the notes that popular posts can get.

I was far too ambitious in all honesty, and once the glitz and glamor of a new project wore off, I hit a massive wall. Hard. It seemed that to actually work on HOCO was much like pulling teeth - whether it was writing, drawing, or even *thinking* about it, I found myself sinking further and further into a imposter syndrome of sorts.

And well, I guess making this announcement is sort of proving it right.

Even so, I've always known when to take a step back, when to settle down -- and now, I'm just making it official. I owe you all at least that much.

The blog will be staying up - I have no plans to delete it in the slightest. I'll just log out of it most likely - I'll still be around on my personal tumblr, where I'll hopefully start being more active there again.

Nothing could have prepared me for just how much care, how much love you guys have shown HOCO - so much so, it's still hard to believe. All the fanart, the fanfic, the memes - they're all saved to my phone, in their own album. Thank you to all who have made amazing creations for my silly characters, as well as the countless asks y'all have sent - maybe one day I'll be able to answer all of them.

I really hope one day I can return to this project with fresh eyes -- I'm hoping real, substantial time away from it will help that process. There are other, personal projects that I've been doing that have helped that creative spark again, as well as indulging in traditional fandom activities, mostly fanart. Unfortunately, I think it's safe to say that my time in the Yan VN community is over for the time being, at least until/if I start working on HOCO again. (Or whenever I play the latest updates of 14DWY - I am the Leon Fan Club President after all ^^).

I've been rambling too long, and I think it's time to close this chapter for now. Thank you all again - and one last Henry for the road. They were there since the beginning of HOCO in 2019, so it feels right for them to be here at the end.

#🪳 - roachie scatter #♥️ - abt hoco #if you made it to the end thank you :3 #sorry about all the rambling - this has been rattling around in my head for months - im sorry it took this long

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vsaintsin · 22 days

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Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due July '24, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

#booklr #lgbt fiction #writeblr #writeblr intro #authors

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neil-gaiman · 2 years

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Hello, Mr Gaiman. Hope you're doing well!

I know I've written you before, but if I may just one more time as I wanted to ask this question to a more experienced writer.

I'm about to have my first comic series officialy published. The first two issues are written and I'm working on the final two now. It's been my dream since I was 12 and I've worked liked crazy ever since to make it happen. You'd think that reaching such a major goalpost would be elating but instead, the primary emotions I feel are maddening stress and crippling imposter syndrome. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I count my blessings, and I know this is what I’m meant to be doing. But wow, I am way more shit scared than I thought I would be, and the doubt sits with me like the devil on my shoulder!

And I wondered, as someone whose been down this path time and time again, if you ever felt anything like this in your early days? Maybe you still do, or know others who have? Would love to hear the thoughts of someone whose been there, done that, got the t-shirt, etc.

P.S. Your incredible work and writing advice really helps keep me afloat, as it does for many. And congrats on Good Omens, Sandman and everything else! I cannot WAIT to see it all. Thank you so much for all the work you've done to put everything out there for all us dreamy nerds<3

Hope you have a lovely day!

That was what Sandman 8 was about, really. The emotions you feel when you get where you wanted to go for so long. And now you're there you don't feel how you expected to feel.

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