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snaccpopstudios · 9 months

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Hi everyone! We're here with the long awaited post on our newest bachelor, Simoun. We know you've all been abuzz with questions about him so we hope to answer some of that in this deep dive into his creation. This post is in lieu of our usual Wednesday devlogs as we've been writing this over the span of several weeks, and was co-authored, edited, and reviewed by Tobias, Jude, ToyboxToonz, Primarvelous, and Sauce. The above image was drawn by @toyboxtoonz.

You can read the full post for free on Patreon, or click the readmore to see it all!

Personally speaking, some of my concerns since Simoun's debut are thoughts like "Do people think I'm making SnaccPop Studios push an agenda?" and "Do people think I'm going through a checklist while making new characters?" It's made it difficult for us to write this quickly because this is quite personal to myself and the rest of the sensitivity consultation team on the DachaBo team.

Concept to Creation

The story of DachaBo begins way before SnaccPop Studios itself was even a concept (that's Sauce's story to tell though). Early Patreon art of Simoun exists from November 2022, back before I was signed on to manage the Patreon and any other projects besides Sunny Day Jack. Sauce had some ideas laying around for several other characters in the DachaBo universe that didn't make it into the proof-of-concept demo:

I dug up an old draft for the DachaBo cat character we teased and it featured a story concept where the cat character was originally a female DachaBo character, referencing the original female design. And overtime he got tired of how he was being treated and decided to change his own self to reflect who he wanted to be, not the sycophants who collected the toys and whatnot ... It was shelved because I didnt have the means to sensitivity check it The designs are half cooked is all but he was supposed to be Indian ethnicity coded for no other reason than I've never seen a character like that

One thing that's important to note is that there definitely are Indian folks who are gender diverse (see Hijra on Wikipedia for a quick primer on one of the traditionally recognized nonbinary genders in South Asia) so it's not a novel concept by any means, but it's also not very common in media whatsoever.

Why The Long Wait?

One of the other contributing reasons as to why Sauce wasn't able to do much with the concept at the time is because we didn't have a VA for him confirmed yet, as I explained in May:

One thing that's rather unique to SnaccPop Studios in all of my experience as a game developer is the fact that all of our series involve coordinating with Voice Actors from the start, which means we need to take the VAs themselves into account when making characters. Adding another layer of complexity in hiring is the fact that SnaccPop Studios is a strictly Erotic Adult brand focusing on masculine love interests, and even if we focus more on the softcore, there's still the unfortunate stigma that any 18+ work has when attached to your name. All of these contributing factors make the potential talent pool that much smaller. This isn't to make excuses: I know SnaccPop Studios can do better on this front. While we can't make changes to some of the existing series' main cast (we don't want to put people out of a role they've been promised), we will do better moving forward to incorporate more diverse characters into our future titles, and that's a pledge

In the field of voice acting, it's best practice to cast actors with similar backgrounds to the character they're voicing, particularly for characters from marginalized populations (ethnicity, culture, gender, etc.), because it's a recurring issue in all professions where marginalized folks are regularly turned down for employment or career opportunities. You don't have to look far for instances where other voice directors failed to cast the proper talent for a character, even in the AAA sphere where they ought to have the resources to be able to find the proper talent; at SnaccPop, we wanted to avoid that situation at all costs.

Finding Simoun's Voice

So we had to confirm a VA first before we could do anything. Sauce, Reece, and I all tried to put private ads out for a trans masc POC (any ethnicity with dark skin) actor for a R18 game, which was largely met with silence at first, then responded to by folks who didn't fit the role in a full capacity (many only hit one or two of the criteria we laid out, some of them none at all). And it's not hard to imagine why: it's common knowledge that the majority of erotic works often fetishize marginalized people who are otherwise underrepresented in mainstream media. Things such as skin color, body type, hair color, age, etc. are treated as traits to be objectified, and on the off chance that queer folks or people of color might see themselves in porn… it's usually not for the most flattering or empowering of reasons. How could we, an exclusively Adults-only studio, convince someone who isn't familiar with us that we wanted to make something for people like them rather than something that turns them into mere masturbating material?

We were almost about to give up on the Catboy until I decided to take a chance on contacting a VA whom I hadn't had any formal and proper interactions with before. I'd been a fan of his work and knew him from an audition he sent in from a previous game I had worked on, but he knew me solely by name at best since we were following each other on Twitter. Still, it was a lead, and after chewing my nails for half a day, I shot off a message to Soren Viloria.

And what do you know? He said he'd give it a shot as his first NSFW role.

Naming the Lad

Soren is a Filipino VA, and despite the fact that I myself seem to be mistaken as Filipino by other Asians quite regularly, I'm actually not as well-versed in that culture as I ought to be.

There's actually a reason why we were so secretive with Simoun's name for a while: he didn't have one yet, so internally we just kept calling him "the Catboy." We wanted to pick a culture-appropriate name for him, something that was meaningful: Soren initially suggested "Siopao" as it was a common cat name (it's a type of Filipino Steamed Bun, so think of how many pets you've seen who have names like Cupcake or Nacho Supreme), but that didn't seem serious enough for a tsundere catboy like him. A few days later, Soren did a little research on a few well-known characters from Philippine media/culture that fit the bill a bit better:

Elías from the Philippine Revolution novel Noli Me Tángere (a required reading in the Philippines). Cat may like his radical tendencies for revolution and his deep, devoted connections.

Simoun from Noli's sequel, El filibusterismo. Holds revolutionary values similar to Elías, but far less noble and more of a loner. Violent at times, and will do what it takes to get his way.

Panday/Flavio, a very popular hero. Part of his charm is that he doesn't have special powers, but took matters into his own hands and forged a magical blade. Has been portrayed in both 'cool' and comedic ways.

Ricardo "Cardo" from the Philippines' longest-running TV drama Ang Probinsyano. Just a cool action hero dude who cares about family, but is also very ambitious and angy.

Seeing as how we already had an Elias Gallagher, Simoun seemed to be the perfect fit, and the name stuck pretty easily.

Simoun's Boundaries

Now that Simoun had a name, we were able to talk about him more seriously beyond the simple "tsundere cat" tropes. You've all already met Gil Finnegan, who we originally brought into SnaccPop Studios to handle the narrative design for DachaBo but was then onboarded to help with Sunny Day Jack, and those of you in the Patreon Discord server are familiar with our mods Tobias and Jude; along with me and Soren Viloria, that brought the grand total of openly trans masculine members on the team.

We all talked about our personal experiences as trans masc/AFAB people, what things we rarely saw reflected in both mainstream and indie media, things we wanted to see more of. Something we all agreed that was difficult to find was trans masculine folks in sexually dominant roles in erotic media, whether that was live video, audio, writing, art, or a combination thereof; there was only a handful of series we could count on our fingers as far as sexually explicit content that featured trans masculine people in roles that weren't exclusively submissive/bottoms, and the majority of us had already seen those or at least heard of them before (ie. Gummy and the Doctor and Sasha From The Gym were prominent ones). Either discovering this content was difficult due to Search Engine Optimization favoring depictions of trans feminine folks, or it simply didn't exist.

All of this, along with the backstory that Sauce had for Simoun, led us to determine that Simoun would be adverse to submissive roles in intimate situations. Simoun isn't the type to want to be penetrated either due to previous trauma surrounding his gender. Bear in mind that this isn't meant to imply or suggest that there is only one "acceptable" sexual preference for trans masculine folks, nor is Simoun meant to represent all of trans masculinity; he may be our first trans masculine character but certainly isn't the last, as we hope to feature more types of characters at SnaccPop Studios.

As an aside, it should be noted that the trend of erotic trans feminine content being more readily available doesn't necessarily mean that trans women have more positive representation per se; for every kinky piece of art created by trans feminine folks out there, there could be ten more works that fetishize and objectify their bodies. We probably don't need to tell you about the common derogatory slurs that have been used to refer to them; trans feminine and trans masculine people deal with varying levels and types of transphobia as well as situations that oversexualize (or even undersexualize) them, and it's important to focus on content that doesn't strip them of their autonomy.

There actually was a period of time between the release of his concept art after Soren was onboarded where the team observed comments both on Patreon and in the Discord regarding Simoun, and we discussed how we could avoid having people try to ship Bo and Simoun together; because Simoun hasn't had bottom surgery of any kind, we wanted to ensure that tokophobia (fear of pregnancy) or dysphoria wouldn't become a thing for any of us involved in the team or for our trans masculine Patrons. It was a bit of a chicken or the egg situation, trying to keep up with the evolving comments about Simoun to try and anticipate what people might accidentally say.

Debut Day Thoughts, & Moving Forward

We were quite happy with the general reception everyone had with Simoun, and we're excited to see so many people taking a liking to Simoun after his reveal. SnaccPop Studios has always strived to provide inclusive and diverse stories for those who don't often get represented in media, much less NSFW media, and the team was quite elated to see folks who were just as happy to see Simoun.

We hope that the love and care we put into building Simoun has shone through in this post and will continue to shine as we write more of him for DachaBo, because we're just getting started.

#dachabo #character design #trans masc #transmasculine #transgender #minors dni #gamedev

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rmd-writes · 8 months

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a love note (and some fics)

Sometimes I wonder if there's really anything bigger out there - the universe, some kind of higher power, fate - and then I think about how extremely lucky I am that I became obsessed with a certain tv show and its characters at just the right time so that I could befriend someone who then introduced me to a particular book at exactly the right time to fall in love with those characters as well. And then, because of my need to have more of those characters, I went looking for more stories about them at exactly the right time to meet a group of people (some of them together, some of them later, but that doesn't matter) who would go on to become my friends.

There must be something, right? To bring together a group of people who live in five to seven different time zones depending on the time of year. To create my safest spaces on the internet. To share not just our love for a book and its characters, but parts of our lives with each other. To have them all wedge themselves into the soft spaces of my heart and never leave.

I've been thinking about this a lot over the last two weeks, because those people conspired and collaborated to gift me a collection of 10 incredible fics for a milestone birthday (tomorrow!) - even though some of them haven't written fic for months and months, or don't write for this fandom at all anymore, or have recently been finding it hard to make words work and finish fics, or are just plain busy with other projects and life. That they took the time to find and make words for me means everything and more 💖💖

I've been absolutely overwhelmed with love these past 10 days (probably to the surprise of no one, I have cried at every single fic drop and I'm crying writing this now). So, I want to share the wonderful fics that they've written for me with you all because it's the least I can do to pay it forward and they're objectively stellar fics. If you haven't come across them already then you should definitely add them to your to read lists/open tabs/MFL. Please show my friends some love and read their work.

The Rae of Sunshine! collection, in order of publication (with my very short summaries):

Take It Back (4.2K) by @three-drink-amy

Henry is the head chef at a French restaurant and there's one patron who keeps sending his dishes back. How can they resolve this?

Dick, Dick Dick (You Down) (10.2K) by @everwitch-magiks

Alex runs the craft services trailer on the set of actor!Henry's latest movie. Is he the only person who sees behind the façade?

A deceptively soft story, given the title.

Precious Love (1.3K) by floatingaway4

The fluffiest follow up to one of my favourite AUs Amigos y Migas (aka the food truck au).

Midnight ice cream (5.8K) by @the-amber-fox

Emotional support Cornettos? More likely than you think.

Make it Right (5.3K) by @three-drink-amy (that's right, Ally wrote me TWO FICS)

A rogue little Tarlos fic in amongst the firstprince - a post-season 1 canon divergence that sees TK working in a taco truck while he finds his feet.

a taste of life (7.4K) by @indomitable-love

A journey through Henry's life, told through food. (This one is not my summary, indomitablelove already summed it up perfectly)

Risotto + Melanzane + Dolce (a love story) (16.8K) by @villiageidiot

Alex starts working at an Italian restaurant and is terrible at his job. Somehow, Henry doesn't seem to mind.

Cursed is a State of Mind (WIP) by @welcometololaland & @dustratcentral

A 5 + 1 treatise on cursed coffee consumption.

12 Year Starter (6.6K) by @clottedcreamfudge

When Pez can't make it to Henry's Michelin-star birthday dinner, he arranges for Henry's friend, Alex, to take his place. Featuring CCF's signature banter and fun, and a menu that I wish was real.

Pour Your He(art) Out (WIP) by @athousandrooms

A 5+1 ode to latte art (featuring actual art!)

You can find the entire collection here on Ao3.

#rae gets sappy #i have the best friends #fandom friends are the best friends #rwrb fic rec #tarlos fic rec #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #red white & royal blue fic #tarlos fic #rae of sunshine

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sage-lights · 2 months

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spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in

“Hey,” Amanda's voice quivers. She physically can't look Angela in the eyes when she greets her. Fuck, this shouldn’t be happening right now. The day has barely started and Amanda already feels like running away from everyone.

Angela looks at her skeptically, “I would say ‘Good morning,’ but you look like yours has been pretty terrible already. Everything okay?”

Amanda collects herself enough to muster a sort-of smile and shrugs. She watches as Angela furrows her brows, contemplating something. Before Amanda can insist that it’s no big deal, she feels herself getting tugged towards the back of the office and led between the costume racks.

“Spill. What’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing, honestly,” God, Amanda feels like she’s a teenager again. It’s stupid that she’s this upset about it.

Angela scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Oh, come on, Amanda. Don’t give me that bullshit. We both know something is wrong,” her tone softens once she sees Amanda’s eyes start to become glassy, “It’s not stupid to be upset.”

She laughs a little, “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“Because I know you. And I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I appreciate you checking in, Ang,” Amanda sighs, “But I really shouldn’t be getting into it at work.”

“I know we’re coworkers, but we’re friends too, right? It’s fine if you really don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here for you,” she grabs Amanda’s hands and gives them a gentle squeeze. That simple gesture was enough to break down the final brick of Amanda's wall, and suddenly, everything came spilling out.

Two nights ago, she had gotten a call from Ian telling her that she didn’t need to come in for work the next morning, which Angela already knew, seeing as she was the one filling in for Amanda yesterday.

What Angela didn’t know, however, was how Amanda’s jaw tightened when she saw the close friends stories of her coworkers, her friends, having fun while she wasn't there. How she had to stop herself from spiraling as she rewatched the videos over and over again. How disappointed she felt in herself for letting this affect her.

Angela lets go of her hands. Amanda’s heart drops for a moment, thinking that she’s overstepped boundaries and came off immature, until she feels Angela hug her.

“We missed you too, you know?” Angela leans away slightly to look up at Amanda, arms remaining around her waist.

"I hate that I'm feeling this way. It feels so high school of me to be sad about my friends hanging out without me. And it's not even like you all planned to see each other! This is our job and," Amanda bites her lip, hesitant to admit, "I guess the kid in me remembers what it was like to get excluded from things. For the longest time, I was convinced it was a me problem. Maybe I never got over that."

"I get it, but you're right. It's a job where none of us have control over who's scheduled on any given day. It's not just a regular hang out between friends. Because if it was, I want you to believe me when I say we'd want you around every single time."

This time, Amanda is the one that pulls Angela into an embrace, "What would I do without you, Angela?"

"Probably cry alone in the gender-neutral bathroom." Angela laughs.

Amanda has to admit, Smosh is a pretty sweet gig. After all, it brought Angela into her life.

-----

word count: 587

title from: "satellite" by harry styles

i think it's literally been 4 years since i wrote fanfic but! i woke up with such bad amangela brain rot this morning that the thought of them is actually making me ill right now. i wrote this ficlet at 8am in class on the doc i use for taking notes, so it's not my best writing...yeah! hope you enjoyed it!

#amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #amangela #smosh rpf #smoshblr #smosh fanfiction

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rorywritesjunk · 4 months

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I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Also, I'm not nice to Buggy when he tries to flirt. I definitely write him as a bit of a disaster when it happens. It's just going to get a bit worse from here. There's a storm mentioned in this chapter and a love confession. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. A shoutout to @lavalampskyy for telling me about the song "Warm" by Montcrieff because that song definitely influenced me to actually write this chapter and rework some things, so thank you friend! I've listened to it way too much in the last 24 hours.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 9

Buggy realized he was truly in love with you when you hugged him that day but he didn’t say anything, not yet. He wanted it to be perfect when he told you. He wasn’t quite ready to propose marriage yet either, and the two of you only had one date, sort of, which ended in him embarrassing himself, but the fact that you brushed off the spill and took care of him made him realize that he wanted that all the time with you. There was no one else for him after that.

He just needed the right time to tell you.

The best time, he decided, was when he brought his coat to you once again one afternoon, a few weeks after the hug. Benji was at the counter, looking unimpressed when he saw Buggy. He looked the pirate up and down before rolling his eyes.

“What do you want now?” The teen asked, sounding bored.

“Benji.” You warned as you came from the backroom. You were trying to get him to be a little nicer to the clients. Your eyes lit up when you saw Buggy and you smiled; he straightened up and held his coat out.

“Sorry.” Benji grumbled. “How can I help you today, sir?”

“Better.” You took the coat from Buggy. “Mm, what’s wrong with it now, Buggy?”

“None of the threads holding the buttons match.” He told you as you hung it up. Benji made a face and went to look it over with you. The thread looked fine to him and he nudged you gently.

“I think he’s losing his eyesight.” He whispered as he glanced back at Buggy. “They look fine to me.”

You shook your head and chuckled. “No, no, he’s right. The shades are just different enough that it can be noticeable.” You turned back to Buggy. “Can I keep it for a few hours to work on it?”

“Only if I can take you out to dinner afterwards.” He said with a grin. You looked a little surprised by that but you smiled and nodded.

“After you pay for the services, of course.”

“I-I was going to pay!” He exclaimed, looking flustered now. “Why wouldn’t I pay?!”

“I’m teasing, of course you’ll pay.” You chuckled as you smoothed the front of the coat out. “I’ll have it ready for our date then.”

Ha! You called it a date. That was perfect. Buggy couldn’t help but feel smug as he winked at you and turned to leave the shop. He shut the door behind him, hoping you didn’t notice several of his fingers got caught in the door jamb and popped off, falling to the floor. He hastily opened the door and collected them before shutting it again. You and Benji watched the whole thing; Benji seemed a little horrified but you just shook your head.

“You’re going out with him?” Benji asked, sounding disgusted. “Why?!”

“I like him.” You told him as you went to go find some thread and a needle. “And he’s very sweet to me.”

“Lots of guys are sweet to you.” Benji pointed out as he returned to the counter. “I don’t get why you like it coming from him though.”

“He’s not like the others.” You shrugged as you set your tools down on the table and collected his jacket. “Now, I’m going to have you help with this, so you have to do it correctly, understand? You can’t mess it up on purpose because you don’t like Buggy.”

“Fine.” He grumbled as he went to help you.

Buggy arrived three hours later. He made sure to look his best. His face was clean, his hair was brushed, and he wore some of his best clothes to take you out. He had a bouquet of flowers for you and a basket in one hand. He felt a picnic dinner at the lake would be a good spot. He wouldn’t be an asshole this time, you could see the ducks, and he could tell you that he was in love with you and everything would be perfect.

He entered the shop and saw Benji and Miss Pins first. They looked up at him; Benji rolled his eyes but Miss Pins looked quite amused to see him.

“So, another date?” She asked. Buggy glared at her as his face reddened.

“What if it is?” He shot back as he set the basket down.

Miss Pins shrugged, a smirk on her face as looked him up and down. “And dressed up for it as well. You really like our Sunny, don’t you?”

“Listen, you-”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because you came down the stairs at that moment, catching his attention. He turned to look and his eyes widened. You had a new dress on, one he hadn’t seen before, a pretty light green color with cap sleeves. It fell at mid-calf, the skirt had a nice swoosh to it, and the neckline didn’t dip down too far. There was embroidery around the hem of the skirt, colorful flowers with twisty stems and leaves. Did you make this yourself?

“Your coat is ready.” You told him as you went right past him to grab it from the back. He was just staring at you, speechless for a moment as his brain registered that you dressed nice for him. Benji waved his hand in front of Buggy’s face to get his attention while Miss Pins snapped her fingers. You came back out with it and took it off the hanger, holding it out for him. He let you put it on him, face burning bright red as you smoothed it over his shoulders. He turned around to face you and you tugged on one of the buttons. “All matching threads for you, Buggy.”

He said nothing as he slammed the payment onto the counter and then held the bouquet out to you. Words were escaping him right then because he didn’t know what to say to you. You took the bouquet from him and kissed his cheek before taking them to the backroom to find them a vase.

“Why isn’t he saying anything?” Benji whispered to Miss Pins. She shrugged.

“No clue.”

“S-Shut it, you two!” Buggy managed to hiss as he glared at them. “I’m fine!”

“Are you though?” Benji grinned. Before Buggy could respond you came back out, setting the vase on the table. He picked the basket up and held his hand out to you, which you took before he led you out of the shop and down the road.

Buggy didn’t want to jinx it because so far everything was going perfectly. He had put a blanket down, pulled the food out (something he got from the little cafe you had your first date at), and he even had a bag of seed for you to throw to the ducks. He still didn’t quite get the enjoyment in that, but if it meant seeing how your eyes lit up and the little squeals of joy you emitted every time one quacked at you, then he would make sure to always bring you a giant bag of seeds for the ducks.

It was perfect until clouds started to roll in. Buggy tried to ignore them, hoping they would just move along to somewhere else so the two of you could keep enjoying the nice weather.

He cleared his throat and took your hand in his. “I… have something to say.”

“Okay.” You turned to look at him, giving his hand a squeeze. “What is it?”

There was a rumbling of thunder in the distance. No, no, it needed to wait until he could tell you.

“Sunny, I’m in lo-”

The clouds opened up and the rain came down, catching the two of you by surprise. You gathered everything into the basket before grabbing his hand and dragging him over to a nearby structure to get out of the wet. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden downpour but Buggy didn’t find it funny.

“Why is it every time I try…” He grumbled as he crossed his arms, glaring outwards. You didn’t hear him as you walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned to look at you, still glaring, but you weren’t bothered by it.

“What were you about to say to me before the downpour?” You asked.

He hesitated. If he said anything else something could happen, like a flash flood or the structure collapsing. And if he said it, how would you react to it? He was in love with you but what if you weren’t in love with him? What if you just laughed at him, patted him on the cheek and sent him on his way? He was starting to wonder if you were just tolerating him at this point.

“I didn’t…” He hesitated, maybe this was a bad idea.

You frowned as you pulled him into a hug. He allowed this, letting his head rest on your shoulder as you pressed a kiss to his temple. This is what he wanted. He just wanted to be in your arms forever and if he wanted that he needed to tell you how he felt before someone else came along and you decided they were better for you.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Buggy finally spoke.

“I’m in love with you.” He mumbled against your shoulder. You didn’t quite catch that and pulled back from him.

“Can you repeat that?” You asked kindly. “I didn’t understand.”

He lifted his head off your shoulder and quickly said, “Iminlovewithyou.”

“I… didn’t understand that, Buggy.” You told him, smiling as you shook your head. “Can you say it again?”

He hated that he was hesitant. This was supposed to be some grand proclamation he was about to make, but given his track record of trying to do anything for you, he was convinced something horrible was about to happen. Lightning could strike him before he could speak, or that stupid handsome swordsman would appear and take you away, or what if the ducks suddenly attacked him?

You touched his cheek, snapping him back to his senses. “Buggy?”

It had to be now or never, ducks be damned.

He took both of your hands in his and took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”

There, he said it.

Lightning didn’t strike either of you. No one else showed up to take you away from him. And he glanced over your shoulder to see the ducks still in the lake, not charging toward him in an angry horde. You, however, were quiet. That was starting to worry him, but he had to deal with this. You probably didn’t feel the same way. It was stupid of him to even think you would. He let go of your hands, trying to think of a joke to get him out of this now because why would you ever want someone like him? He just needed to tell you he was kidding, that it wasn’t true, just wanted to see what you’d do, but before he could do anything, you grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him close, leaning up to kiss him.

He stiffened, not expecting that reaction. He expected you to push him away, telling him to stop making jokes, that you didn’t feel the same way. Those scenarios played through in his head as you kissed him, not letting him leave yet. Were you waiting to tell him to leave you alone, that you didn’t want to see him ever again after this?

When you finally pulled back from the kiss, you still held onto the front of his coat, not letting him bolt. Your cheeks were pink, you were smiling up at him, and he didn’t know what to make of the twinkle in your eye. He was just waiting for the inevitable.

“I like you a lot, Buggy.” You told him. “And I’m starting to fall in love with you.” There was a crack of thunder nearby and you laughed. “Let’s go back to the shop before we get washed away. I’ll make you a hot drink.”

He nodded fast, head almost dislodging from his body at the speed of the movement. You were starting to fall in love, that meant you were going to eventually. That was better than what he was anticipating happening.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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immortalbutterflycos · 2 months

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I've come to realize something important in writing. (specifically in my personal experience)

(TLDR; I have ADHD and writing is hard even though I'm still doing it every single day. Make it make sense.)

If you have a story in your head that means a lot to you, and you need to take more time to develop and fully flesh it out before posting it, that's totally okay! In fact, in my experience, it has the potential to make the story better over time, really forming it into what you imagine it to be.

Here's an example because I just typed a lot of words and right now I can't seem to process whether they make sense or not.

I have a fanfic that I've been working on for a year now. (For the Marauders fandom if y'all are curious)

It's one that I haven't talked about much because every time I do, I end up losing the motivation to write. This is what happened to another one of my fics for the Haikyuu fandom. (well that and the Marauders.. yeah they fucked me up in the best way and Freckles and Constellations has really suffered because of it smh)

So the reason why this fic is taking so long is because it is such a specific AU that I'm out here trying to meld magic systems, and I've got like EIGHT MAIN CHARACTERS to write backstories for to fit this AU while also being true to them and even though I know the basic plot, there are just so many little details and aspects that will make this fic what I desperately need it to be.

And no one knows just how intricate it is or how important it is to me. Which is totally fine. I don't even know if people are going to read it when I finally manage to post it. This fic is purely self-indulgent.

let me just break down for you what I have prepared for this already:

countless drabbles and scenes and plans written on the backs of receipts and on bits of scrap paper

a 3" 3-ring binder that I've been trying to organize it all in

a google doc titled "TAoRfOL Doc Masterlist" that has links to every single doc I have for this one fic. (it's dated back to March of last year and as of this month has 93 total links. Only 5 of those are reference links.)

notes and ideas i have written in my phone to transfer into docs so I can add them to the masterlist

Hero Forge digital models of those 8 main characters because I wanted to see what their group would look like outside of my imagination

Multiple Spotify playlists dedicated to this fic and the characters which I listen to every single day. (currently @ 494 songs)

And you know what? I just recently, at 6 am this morning, finally figured out the solution to a fucking plot hole I could not work around.

Basically what I'm saying is that I needed all of this time. Every single day I see things and get inspiration. Every day I learn new things and fix errors in my own plans.

As much as I crave the validation and recognition for all of my hard work on this project, I know that If I had just bit the bullet and posted the first chapter without having done all of this research and all of this planning, then it would not have lived up to the story I have in my head.

I admire people who can just write without all of the added steps and in some cases, I can do that. I haven't been able to in a while (which is why that Valentine's Day microfic was actually really big for me to have posted) but that's just how my brain works.

I needed all of my experiences and all of my daily thoughts and all of my collective playlists for this fic to be able to write the story I intended and that is exactly what I'm going to do.

(though if I'm being honest, this timeline is rough. I really want to just write and post this first chapter so so so bad. ToT)

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margarethx · 2 months

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I was genuinely surprised with the responses I've got on the first part of [THIS story]. It was such a random burst of motivation to write that I didn't even think it through and just posted whatever came out of my head. But I'm very glad that you liked it, since it's the first story I've showed to other people in like 4 years.

The working title will be "Assassinate them with Kindness", and I'll use that as a tag for later parts when I add them. It's also [available on Ao3] if you'd prefer to read it over there.

Enjoy <3

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The weird man does not go to Sam's group on Monday.

Which is not as big of a relief as Sam thought it would be.

Because if the man is not here... where is he? And why did he even ask if he could join the group? Was he just taunting Sam? Teasing him with the knowledge or Sam's schedule and whereabouts, but not revealing how and for what purpose did he get that information?

Sam briefly glances at his wrist, covered neatly by a long-sleeved shirt and a warm blazer. The day is way too hot for this type of clothing, but he refused to look at the bruises on his skin for more than two seconds after noticing them for the first time. He still feels the pain, but it's easier to make it fade into the background, if he pretends it isn't there at all.

In spite of his nervousness and constant worry, Sam leads his group like a true professional. Calm, collected, funny when needed. A shining example of an ex-soldier who has left most of their PTSD far behind by working hard to healthily rejoin society. Definitely not a person, who started carrying a gun in public again after singular weird encounter, and who constantly has to fight with himself to not look over his shoulder and check if there isn't anyone watching him from the shadowed backroom.

But the man was not there. The meeting went well. And all the people leaving the room with their polite "good bye's" and casual "see ya!'s" have no idea about the turmoil in his head.

"See you Thursday," Sam smiles pleasantly and grabs Tyler's hand with both palms, shaking it lightly, as a young vet stops by. "It's nice to see you again. It's been a while," he adds, hoping that his eyes convey genuine warmth.

Tyler is young - too young to deal with this sort of trauma. A typical example of a teenager pulled into a military machine by life circumstances, not because of any principled believes. He went to have a better chance at higher education afterwards. And he lost half of his right leg for it.

He is secretly Sam's favourite in the group, with his sense of humour and positive attitude. Though Sam is sure there is a lot of fears and sadness hidden behind all the jokes, because he acted the exact same way when he first sought out help after coming home. It was easy to see the reflection of younger Sam in Tyler's behaviour.

And it was also great to have someone in the group who could keep everyone's mood relatively light when topics were getting heavy, without making others feel as if their confessions were not treated seriously. It was, of course, Sam's job to control the atmosphere as best as he could , but on days like this - when he himself didn't feel stellar - it was a relief to not shoulder all the emotional weight of the meeting on his own.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Wilson?" Tyler asks, also shaking Sam's hands a little.

"It's Sam, we've talked about this," Sam smiles, deflecting by playing their classic game of arguing over formality levels of their relation. It's a bit worrying. To know that he can put on a mask and his vets might notice his distress anyway. But no one else said anything, so maybe he fooled the rest of them successfully?

"Apologies. Is everything alright, Mr. Sam Wilson?"

Tyler sends him a bright grin and Sam sighs. He doesn't have much energy left to argue or pretend. He did not sleep very well last week, to put it lightly.

"I'm alright," he finally replies without much conviction. "It's personal stuff, you don't need to worry about this. It should be resolved by the next meeting," he adds, hoping that this little lie will make his situation look like a solvable problem with the end in sight. Maybe if he believes in it hard enough it would even come true?

For now, it seems that Tyler buys the explanation and drops the topic. As they exchange goodbyes, he still glances at Sam with a slight frown, but he doesn't push. It'd be unusual if he did. As much as Sam loves working with these people and helping them, they're not that close. His vets don't get involved in his personal life.

...They don't know where he lives, for example...

Sam shakes his head to stop himself from thinking and gathers the papers on his desk with a bit more energy than the task requires. He needs to get out of here. The conference room he uses is relatively big, but the walls seem to get closer and closer, the ceiling pressing down on him.

He exits the building, taking long steps, and avoiding everyone's eyes. Fortunately, most people he passes don't know him, so he's not stopped for any conversations about his last weekend and all the fun his co-workers had while he sat on his guestroom floor surrounded by unhealthy snacks, and wondering if it's reasonable to invest his meager savings in an upgraded security system.

It's embarrassing, when he thinks back to those three days. It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

But something about that man... About his eyes. About the bruises he left.

Sam really tried to not look at them too closely to avoid spiraling again, but he's pretty sure his skin almost broke in some places, as if pinched too hard. The only reason he didn't notice it right away was probably the sheer rush of adrenaline that flooded him in that moment and dulled the pain.

Once he's outside, Sam leans on a nearby wall, out of everyone's sight, unsure of what to do next. Even though he spent the last weekend hidden in his home, the place did not feel safe. All he could focus on were unusual noises or the headlights of random cars passing by, casting uneven shadows on his walls. At some point he was sure one specific shadow looked like a person, but when he carefully peered outside, his garden was empty, with the exception of a small bat the flew in circles under the nearest lamppost, catching moths in peace.

Normally, he'd stay, watching the little guy and reminiscing about the time he too could fly at such speed, but it didn't feel safe, so he moved as far away from the window as possible.

All Sam wants right now is to get back to his bed and hide under the covers, go to sleep, and wake up to realize that the whole thing was just a dream.

His bag slips from his shoulder when he slumps against the wall and the strap catches on his wrist. He hisses in pain, reminded once more - as if he forgot, somehow - that his paranoia is actually justified and that his home is not some safe haven he'd like it to be. Because someone strong enough to nearly break his bones with a strong grip knows where he lives and could come back at any second.

If the guy was a real vet, why didn't he come to the meeting?

And again... if he's not here... Where is he?!

Sam readjusts his bag and straightens up. He cannot come home right now, but he needs to sleep somewhere. He could ask one of his new friends to take their couch for the night... but it's not Delacroix and his friendships here are not on the "sleepover" level yet. And if the man decides to look for him, Sam would drag the danger to someone else's home.

He's not that selfish.

Maybe he could find someone on a dating app and stay the night?

He shudders at the idea. It reeks of desperation even to his clouded brain. He would not do that to some random innocent person. And he would not do that to himself. He has enough dignity left.

The mere fact that he came up with a solution like that sobers him up a little bit. It sounds almost ridiculous and he's sure he would laugh about it one day... if he lives long enough to tell the story about his lowest point post-Afganistan.

What he needs to do is to go to a public space. A place with cameras, a nice crowd with enough eyes, to catch if something's wrong - but not crowded enough that a person would fade into the sea of faces and moving bodies.

With that in mind, Sam takes another deep breath to calm himself and marches towards the nearest bar he knows. The place is probably half-empty at this hour, but an evening wave of patrons should start trickling in pretty soon.

The inside of the establishment is a bit too dark for Sam's liking, but as he sits at the bar he feels some of the tension leave his body at last. Behind the bartender there is a freshly cleaned mirror, showing most of the tables, so Sam can keep an eye on the room while eating.

He's not in the mood for drinking - mostly to stay vigilant, not because he couldn't use a nice glass of whiskey right now - but the place offers some typical fast food options, so he picks them from the menu instead. He'll have to really push himself during the next training session to pay for the sugar and fat intake of the last four days, but he feels like he's earned the right to be indulgent for at least a while.

As he eats, Sam observes other patrons suspiciously, looking over his shoulder from time to time. At some point he's sure he feels someone's eyes on his back, but no one new entered the building in the last twenty minutes and the people on nearby tables seem preoccupied with their own thoughts and conversations, so he's sure it's just the paranoia.

It's starting to get dark outside and the bar fills with shadows before someone turns on a few extra laps. There are more people sitting around Sam now, some staring in silence into their drinks, others talking casually, or flirting with the bartender, as per usual.

The guy behind the bar seems cute. Probably a bit younger than Sam's typical partner, but still in his bracket. He accepts the compliments with a calm smile not cutting them off right away, but not doing much to encourage the attention. Sam gets a little lost for a second, observing the man's hands as he prepares the drinks, almost hypnotized by the movents.

Suddenly, one of the patrons - one that's been sitting by the bar before Sam even came in - drops her wallet in a clumsy attempt to pay the bill. She smiles awkwardly at the bartender, who simply grabs the wallet for her from the floor, clearly used to similar shenanigans.

As the guy leans forward, a curtain of thin braids covers his face for a brief second and he glances somewhere in Sam's general direction from between them before standing up.

Sam freezes.

The man looks basically nothing alike the guy who stood at his doorstep last week, but something about that look causes the memories to flood Sam once again. He feels dizzy and the comfortable atmosphere of the bar becomes overwhelming and stuffy in a blink of an eye.

He nearly jumps out of his chair and makes a beeline to the bathroom. He's not sure why. He just needs to... Wash his face maybe. Look into the mirror and have a stern talk with his brain. Something. Anything! To finally calm down.

As he walks towards the bathrooms, he notices some man sitting in a booth he previously didn't see. He's dressed pretty formally, phone in hands, and an annoyed grimace on his face. He looks more like a person currently working than someone who just went for drinks to wind down after work.

His eyes meet Sam's which sends a cold shiver down his spine. For whatever reason, this man - looking like a banker or low-lever politician, which is a common sight in DC - scares Sam just as much as the creepy stranger haunting his thoughts.

He breaks the eye contact and darts towards the bathrooms even faster, nearly colliding with someone who exits the door.

There are three other people in the bathroom, two of which wash their hands and fix their hair in front of the mirror. Neither of them look particularly suspicious, but Sam keeps an eye on them anyway, walking towards the stalls and locking himself in one of them.

He sits there for less then two second before he realizes that he's made himself more vulnerable by isolating himself from the crowd, but he's really not sure what to do next. The brief moment of fear after seeing the bartender with hair hanging over his face seems silly in retrospect. He could've just ignored the panic, push the discomfort down, and go back to the main room. But the man in suit sitting in a secluded booth?

That was actually worrying. Because he didn't just look generally annoyed or angry. He seemed to be specifically mad at Sam. Which would be concerning with any other influential White guy, but in this particular instance Sam feels like there's more to it.

He hears another person enter the bathroom, interrupting his thoughts. Two of the people washing their hands leave. Someone else comes in. Sam keeps track of everyone inside and at some point he's pretty sure he's the only person still sitting here, so he quietly exits the stall.

Just as he expected, the bathroom is empty. It's a bit weird, all things considered. It's a Monday afternoon, sure, but this place is not alive just on the weekends and in the night, when students party. There should be a constant rotation of people going in and out at any point.

But the room is silent as Sam stands there, wondering what to do next.

He's pretty sure he hears some water running on the other side of the wall and muffled laughs, seemingly coming from a group of women washing their hands and talking in an adjacent room.

Sam's familiar with all the overdone jokes about girls visiting the bathroom way more often than guys or about them going there in hordes. And, stereotypical or not, there is some truth to those... but Sam's pretty sure it should not be this disproportional.

The man's bathroom has been empty for over five minutes. Which is way too long, considering the size of the crowd.

A motion activated light loudly going off in one of the stalls makes it even more clear that Sam's suspiciously alone in here.

He washes his hands just to do something when, finally, the door to the main part of the bar opens. A wave of sound - clinking glasses, loud conversations, a ringtone - fill the empty space until the door closes again, cutting the noise off.

Sam exhales with relief and moves to dry his hands.

Then he notices him.

The man from his porch, now standing behind him, staring straight at Sam in the mirror.

He looks even bigger now, taller, and more broad at the shoulders, his hair still covering the face like a greasy veil. His eyes pin Sam in place like a wild animal who's fight or flight instincts fired so many contradicting impulses in its brain that it ended up just freezing.

In any other situation Sam would feel vindicated. He was right! He was not safe, he was observed, and someone is going after him - for whatever reason.

He can take that useless sense of satisfaction and bring it straight to his grave.

The man doesn't move. He just looks at Sam or through him, maybe. As if he's mentally not here. Maybe his soul has also left his body, like Sam assumes his own did right now?

It's just like that day at his home. Awkward, tense silence and creepy staring. Sam feels the hairs on his arm stand up like a coordinated unit. His heart beats so fast and loud that it must echo on the bathroom's walls. If Sam's ears were not filled with ringing, he'd probably be more sure about that.

The man blinks, just once.

And something in Sam just... breaks.

When he'll think about it later he'll have no idea why he did it. But he simply turns off the water and turns towards the guy in one smooth motion.

"Oh, I know you" he says, tone casual.

The man frowns this time, still looking directly at Sam. One of his hands is hidden inside or his unzipped jacket and it twitches a little. Whatever he's holding there probably isn't a bouquet or a dove, he'll produce out of nowhere and present to Sam like a magician.

"Fancy meeting you here," he adds, like it's a normal conversation. Like they're friends from work or as if the man was his favourite cashier at a local store. "In the bar, I mean. Not in the bathroom," he jokes.

The man's face does a weird thing. It's difficult to tell what kind of emotion he wanted to convey, but he seems confused. Does he even recognize Sam? Maybe he's really not as mentally present this time?

The water drips from Sam's hands to the tiled floor - tiny rivulets running down his fingers. It's quiet again, just as before, until one of the other motion activated lights goes off in the stalls. Then the next one right after it. Click. Click.

The guy flinches twice, his hand moving under the jacket's lapels.

"Can I help you with something?" Sam asks finally. At this point it feels like his mouth is operating on its own, entirely independent on his brain. He's also there, but not really.

Maybe he's already died and hasn't realized?

"You didn't go to my meeting today." Why does he keep talking?! "Do you plan to join this Thursday?"

By some miracle, this question seems to work. The guy's eyes dart around nervously and he shivers as the last of the lights in the stalls section goes off. The room is dimly lit by now only by the small lights over the sinks. And Sam cannot ignore that they're still, somehow, alone in here.

"I'm sorry I didn't come today," the man says and he sounds sincere, though monotone. "There were too many people in there."

"Well, it's a group meeting," Sam smiles. "The people are kind of a given."

He feels like he's body is operating on a pure survival mode. It reminds him of his time in the military, in a way; of the time, where he had to put one hundred percent of his focus on staying alive and keeping other's from dying, too, but couldn't actually think about it. Because there were bullets flying by, and his hands were sticky with someone's blood, and there was a wound to stitch, and a person screaming. If he registered all of that in full, he'd just collapse on the ground, overwhelmed and paralyzed by fear. So it was easier to just switch his brain off and let the instincts and years of training take the wheel.

"If you're worried about confessing in front of others, it's okay." He keeps talking and the man's stare becomes even more intense. His eyes seem very blue, even in the poor lighting, which Sam didn't truly notice before. They look cold, but not because of the colour. More like there's not enough life in them. "There's no pressure to tell your story right away. Some people in my group love talking. Other's just sit and listen. If no one's up to talk, I take over and give a little speech," Sam grins.

And he somehow knows that if he looked into the mirror to his left, his smile would look genuine.

"I don't like talking," the man says eventually.

"I figured," is Sam's reply. "Like I said, I won't push you to say shit."

It's probably not the most professional way of phrasing it, but he's not at work and, frankly, he's about to be murdered, so it's not like they'll reprimand him for inappropriate language.

"Also," he continues, "I can give you a number to one of my colleagues who does one on one therapy sessions. That way you could..."

"No."

"...avoid groups," he finishes awkwardly. " Fair enough."

"Do you do it? The therapy? One on one, no people?"

Sam doesn't. And he'd probably lie about it, even if he did.

"Not these days. I already have a ton of work with groups. If you want to see me, specifically, you know where to find me."

Clearly.

"I do," the man confirms like it's not the creepiest thing Sam's heard in his entire life.

"Well, I have to go now," Sam tries, hoping that if he sneaks out of the bathroom fast enough this whole nightmare will finally end. If the guy's here to kill him, he's doing a pretty bad job right now, so maybe Sam could just... walk away from the situation. Surely, he won't get stabbed in the back in the middle of a bar? Right?

The guy's face contorts in a painful way and he finally removes his hand from under the jacket. Sam tenses, but the gloved palm is empty. At the same time, the guy sways a little on his feet and grabs the wet counter with both hands.

Before Sam has time to process what's happening, he's already next to the guy, holding his elbow carefully and looking straight into his eyes. The pupils are dilated and then suddenly small like a poppy seed, changing in a matter of milliseconds. Sam's never seen anything like it.

"Are you alright?" he asks unnecessarily, trying to keep the man from falling face-first into the sink.

They look at each other and the man seems panicked, more than anything. The unwashed strands of brown hair hang over his eyes, but this time Sam's too worried about him to let himself spiral again at the now familiar sight.

The counter makes a strained noise and a small crack appears on the surface. Sam imagines his own bones turning into dust under such grip and his wrist pulses with pain he felt in the background for the last few days.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, sounding more urgent this time. He doesn't even care at this point if the man's here to kill him. Sam's a paramedic first, and if someone's fighting for their life nearby, he'll always drop everything to make things better. Even if his body might end up in trashcan behind the bar for the effort.

The man blinks, licks his lips, and takes a ragged breath. There's a weird grey cast to his face now and he didn't even look that healthy to begin with.

"I have to go," he whispers finally and stands up. His forehead shines with sweat and his pupils are wide again. "Thank you," he adds quieter and walks away unnaturally fast.

He's there. And then he's not. The door closes so quietly behind him, that Sam doesn't even register the sound.

Sam sits down, not caring about the wet and disgusting floor and stares at the opposite wall in silence. In the women's bathroom someone laughs out loud and a sharp sound of the shattering glass reaches him from the bar.

It almost feels like he's lost his hearing for a while and it suddenly returns to him. As if he's been under water and came break to the surface once more.

He also tastes blood on his tongue and realizes he must have bitten it at some point without realizing. The unpleasant sting of a cut is what finally helps him to come back to himself. He cannot stay in this place a second longer.

He washes his hands again so they stop feeling as clammy and touches his face with them too. The cold water helps a lot, but his own eyes look wild in the mirror.

As he exits the bathrooms, he looks over the crowd that gathered inside since he fled the bar. Just as before, most people don't even look in his direction and he realizes that the man in a suit who stared at him earlier is gone as well.

Then, he turns around to close the door and suddenly he's faced with a bright yellow sign that warns: "Under Maintenance" in bold, black letters. An official looking printout below adds: "DO NOT ENTER".

None of those signs have been there before.

All Sam can do at this point is grip his bag, lower his head, and exit the bar as fast as possible. If he is getting strangled or stabbed today, he at least wants for it to happen in his home.

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Shoutout to tumblr for glitching a making me feel like I've lost over 700 words of a draft <3 That mini heart-attack was very necessary.

Btw, funny thing about this chapter is that I've basically spent the entire time thinking that I'm doing too much. Like... I keep pushing Sam deeper and deeper into this spiral, but nothing really happened to him. It's not a big deal, calm down, man.

But then I have to remind myself that if some suspicious looking man knocked on my door, told me that he got my address from a person I don't know, asked me where I worked, and grabbed my arm so hard it nearly broke... I would simply perish on the spot from the stress xD Or I'd spent the rest of my life paranoid, even if nothing more happened.

So I think Sam should be allowed to have a 4-day almost panic attack, as a treat.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon #winter soldier #captain america #ca:tws #onlysambucky #assassinate them with kindness #ATWK #my writing

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yellowhollyhock · 1 month

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raph vs a volcano day 20

The 1987 episode plot:

Donatello's health scanner predicts Raphael has only 24 hours to live. Raphael goes around doing good deeds and taking ridiculous risks because he's gonna die anyway. Meanwhile Donatello figures out his machine didn't work right and means to tell Raphael, but you see he is distracted doing good deeds and taking ridiculous risks. It culminates with Raph inside an active volcano (trying to stop it from erupting? bro??) and his brothers have to come rescue him.

I love this episode. For so many reasons.

1) What an interesting way to give Raph his role while keeping him in character within the new role they gave him for this show. Because Mirage Raph is the guy who always wants to help without pausing to think about whether they can. He's known for sometimes being impulsive and always being protective. And not just of his fellow turtles! He sees someone in trouble he wants to help. But usually in Mirage that's expressed with violence. So for the show they made the "crazy one" express the same traits through sarcasm instead and he became the witty one, and I love how future Raphs are both. And I especially love when 1987 Raphael himself is both

2) This is such a classic plot. It's like... the tribbles spoof/tribute or 'character gets kidnapped but acts so annoying they get released.' You know the kinds of plots I mean right? Our style of storytelling has changed (it's always changing) but tv shows in late 80s early 90s especially had these. You could pretty much guess the plot from the title because you know the characters and you know the story. The exciting reveal is mostly the jokes. There are words for what I'm saying but I haven't had an english class in a few years, so take this ramble and trust me. It's a beautiful example of whatever this is. And!

---2a, It doesn't have the classic resolution that 'character thought they had one day to live due to a misunderstanding' would have on a kids show. There isn't a 'moral' about seizing the moment and using your time wisely. There also isn't a moral about communication, so instead of the miscommunication being annoying like it would in a preachy episode, it's gloriously hilarious to watch

3) Speaking of that, the obligatory 'he tried to ask' scene is Raphael watching Michelangelo cry on Donatello's shoulder because "I'll miss him so much" "I'm sorry there's nothing I can do for him" it's the oven. The oven is broken. Michelangelo is sobbing in Donatello's arms like his world is ending because they're going to have to get a new oven because this one's beyond fixing. And Raphael fully believes that Michelangelo is begging Donatello to fix him, when this version of Donatello is so very none medic. Like I don't even know how to describe why and how much I love this scene. I think I killed english

4) The scene of Raphael in the volcano. I just. He's so funny. This episode really captures what I love about the whole show, which is that I am absolutely buying into it and feeling deeply about it, and simultaneously enjoying it ironically. Does that make sense? When you can put your whole heart into unironic enjoyment but your brain at the same time gets it's 'make fun of this' treat. So both types of fun at once.

---4a it's not trying to fix the plot holes it's enjoying that in this format you don't have to. I feel like this is severely under utilized in modern cinema. make things not make sense on purpose for fun. don't explain about where they are, how they carried that object with them, why there were not other consequences for certain actions. The fun thing about stories is they don't have to be realistic unless you want them to

so for today I had intended to write a Rise version of this episode. I think it would work well for them. Plus, Raph and Donnie bonding. However. That is going in drafts and will be coming. later (march for raph is my opportunity to collect drafts for the rise turtles apparently.) I'm actually still debating if Donnie would make a health-o-meter or if something goes down in witch down, but either way, ❤️💜

#tmnt #tmnt 1987 #rottmnt #march for raph

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iced-blood · 4 months

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Sugar, Spice, and Everything Ice.

I’ve been quiet this year.

This isn’t to say I haven’t been doing anything, as folks may have noticed. I’ve put up a whole mess of links to the work I’ve been doing in 2023—a grand total of 105 chapters—and that’s what I want to touch base on, at this tail-end of the year.

I found out early on in January that a dear friend of mine, my creative partner and the reason for my Paved with Good Intentions series, passed away in 2021. I’m not sure what it was, but that news hit me in a particular way. I realized that two of the projects in that aforementioned series, Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes and Lightbringer, were unfinished.

That didn’t sit right with me.

I set out to fix that.

There are many projects I’ve started that I never finished, and have been left languishing for . . . ten years? Yeah. Ten years.

That’s just ridiculous.

I decided that 2023 was going to cooperate with me whether it wanted to or not.

So, I bought a day-planner and set to work. Let’s go over the list, shall we?

Coronam Crepusculum

This was first on my list because it was a work that I owed a good friend of mine, who is no longer a regular user of Tumblr. It’s a take on the Soulsborne universe, built around a series of personal interviews with relevant characters conducted by an OC I created specifically for this purpose, Wandulfin of Vinheim.

(the latin title translates, hopefully, to “crown of twilight”)

51,377 words.

Paved with Good Intentions: Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes

The first of the two stories I knew I needed to finish in memory of my departed friend, I resolved to write the 19 chapters required to reach a clean finish line for this one-shot collection of 100 installments. It felt like the right way to go about things, and I think I worked out a lot of important elements of the Kaiba brothers through those 19 chapters.

165,386 words.

Paved with Good Intentions: Lightbringer

The second of the two stories written in my friend’s memory, this is still being published every Saturday. I wrote what amounted to the second half of this story, 55 chapters to be exact, for a grand total of 110 (of which 98 are published as of this post). I think it’s some of my best work to date, and I can only hope my partner would have appreciated what became of it. Have you ever wondered how Seto and Mokuba would react to meeting their parents again? If so, this is the story for you.

�� Published + Rough Draft: 159,930 words.

The City That Wouldn’t Die

The first full storyline of my personal take on World of Warcraft and my main character’s place in it, this story has undergone a lot of changes since I last touched it. This year, I resolved to end it at a part that made at least some amount of sense, but I won’t pretend that it’s entirely satisfactory. All I can say at this point is that I do intend to come back to Azeroth eventually. And this time, I hope to give my characters the story they deserve.

41,890 words.

Cult of the Dragon King

I’m pretty sure this is the one that’s been left alone the longest; if it isn’t, it’s close. The basic thrust of this story is that Atem failed in his quest to gather the Millennium Items and put them to rest properly, and so it falls to Seto Kaiba to try this time. I could go into detail why I picked Seto to be Atem’s successor, but I think y’all know what to expect here. I picked Seto because he’s my favorite. Anyway, this one isn’t ready to resume publishing, but it has been drafted. Anyone who’s been waiting for this one to continue will want to pay attention to this blog in 2024.

Published + Rough Draft: 175,246 words.

The Lost Dragon's Lullaby

Another AU centered around the Kaiba family (what can I say? I'm a creature of habit), this story wonders what it would have been like if Noa had lived. What if Seto and Mokuba had another brother when they were adopted? What if they had a mother? What would the Kaiba family look like if it were whole?

Approx. 62,609 words.

Watching the Lights Go Down

One of two stories I revived this year, and will resume publication in the new year. Do you Blueship? Do you wonder how Seto and Kisara might interact in the modern world, regardless of romantic intentions? This is the story for you. I took a set of 100 words to use as prompts to build this story, and through these 100 snapshots I think you’ll get a pretty clear picture of how I imagine Seto’s relationship with his favorite dragon would unfold if said dragon was a woman. And his bodyguard.

Approx. 52,789 words.

Letting the Cables Sleep

This is a sister story to the one I just outlined. Taking place concurrently with Lights, this story explores the relationship between Noa Kaiba and Ryo Bakura. Why these two? Why not? I don’t really have an answer, except to say that I found their dynamic interesting. Unlike its other half, Cables is explicitly romantic. So if you’re interested in Domino City’s resident white-haired cryptid hooking up with an android, well, here’s where you wanna go. I used the same list of 100 words, but in reverse order, to build this story.

Approx. 52,708 words.

Butterflies and Hurricanes

The other contender for “story Ice left to languish for the longest time,” I’m not sure I have to explain to anyone reading this why I might have stopped working on a Harry Potter story. Put basically, this story is an exploration into what would happen if a fae prince took an interest in taking down Lord Voldemort, and then settled on Sirius Black as his instrument. It’s a time travel story at its core, with all the nonsense you might expect from such a thing.

Regardless of anything this series’ author might have to say on the matter, my writing this story does not in any way endorse or condone transphobia or any of her other myriad bigotries. I have not given this woman money in 20 years. I do not support her in any way, shape, or form. This story’s completion is for my own satisfaction, and for the interest of anyone who might want to read it. That is all.

Published + Rough Draft: 80,506 words.

The Whitest Lace of Light

A continuation of my pet take on the Bleach setting, focused again on Toshiro Hitsugaya and Rangiku Matsumoto and their Tenth Division. Throughout the 50 chapters of this story, they face off with a new threat to Soul Society as they try their hardest to rebuild after the Thousand-Year Blood War. Throughout this . . . suspense? Thriller? Thing. They come across new faces and old, and might just learn some things along the way. Or something. Look, I just wanted to write one of my favorite ships again.

Rough Draft: 30,033 words.

At Sixes and Sevens: A Prince for His Kingdom

The shortest work I completed this year, but certainly not the least important. This is a continuation of my pet take on the “Kaiba Bros Age Swap AU” as first shown to me by my dear friend @kintatsujo. How might Seto have handled an invitation to Duelist Kingdom if he’d been 9 years old when it took place? What about Mokuba, if he was 15? Shenanigans abound. I hope you like where I took this one, Kinta.

5,000 words.

Last but not least, I resolved to break my record for my longest NaNoWriMo project this year, because I’m ridiculous and don’t know when to quit.

Much like I approached World of Warcraft,I take every MMORPG I play as an excuse to build a story. Nowhere is this more obvious than Final Fantasy XIV. My take on Eorzea and its various magical idiosyncrasies—which I call The Song That God Forgot—set me on a road to 125,000 words this past November.

These projects, alongside various redrafts of my older stories in preparation for what I hope to be 2024’s migration from Fanfiction.Net to AO3, netted me a grand total of 902,580 words written in 2023.

I don’t say this to brag or to pat myself on the back (okay, maybe a bit), but to say . . . just hold on. Keep going. You’ll hit your stride eventually, even if it doesn’t seem like it. I’ve struggled to write regularly and with consistency for a decade now, and here I’ve got nearly a million words in a single year.

I believed in me this year, and I believe in you too.

Keep on truckin’. You’ll get there.

Happy New Year, y’all. I love you.

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esthermitchell-author · 7 months

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Could you imagine a series of "Cozy" Good Omens Mysteries? lol

Starting after the Second Coming is thwarted. Azi and Crowley get to be together full time. But, of course, Azi is always fascinated by little mysteries that pop up, and wants to solve them all. Crowley grumbles and complains, but can't say "no" to Azi (of course), and ends up getting curious, himself, while they're looking into the mysteries, and ends up enjoying himself in the process. :)

Just two celestial beings, out solving silly little mysteries. :)

I think I'm going to have to fanfic some... I don't think I can stand to NOT write this adorableness... :)

UPDATE: I've started plot work for a few "A.Z. Fell and Co. Cozy Mysteries" (Fanfic for Good Omens That Comes After). I have some other fanfic stories for Good Omens to get through, first, but I'll be working on these throughout, because i have a feeling they're going to be more novella length, like "Rescue Me" was.

The first one bears the tentative title "Trust Fall."

A rather odd tome has appeared mysteriously on the front steps of the bookshop, wrapped in a plain brown wrapper. The only writing on the wrapper is a very fine calligraphy reading, "For your collection. From an old friend."

Aziraphale is immediately intrigued. Crowley is more suspicious than anything, and attempts to dissuade Aziraphale from investigating. However, Aziraphale is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. Convinced his angel is headed for trouble, Crowley tags along as Aziraphale begins following clues all across London and beyond. Naturally, Crowley complains as they start, but becomes curious himself as the clues start pointing more and more toward someone who shouldn't even be alive.

What will "newspaper man" Aziraphale and Crowley uncover, and what's so special about this book?

I will be starting work on this, but in the meantime, I'm trying to finish up a series of smaller stories, including "A Gift of Words" (I'm almost finished. I'm still tweaking the opening scene a bit), one called "Too Near the Sun" (I'm going to see if I can't create the history for that "wrestling" angels statue.) A WWI flashback/present story called "Risen to Grace" ... A Galileo invention flashback story called "Touching Heaven"... And just to be silly, I thought, what if Crowley lied about not knowing "Everyday"? What if he actually MET Buddy Holly... showing up the day he was killed to warn him the plane was set to be taken down, but things went pear-shaped and Crowley ended up being too late to warn Holly of the impending disaster? Not sure what I'm going to call it, yet. It's still just a rough concept. Not even sure I'll pursue it, yet.

Anyway, if anyone's interested, that's what I'm working on.

Also... I've had someone ask about the possibility of some kind of visual art of the statue from the end of "His Sheltering Wings." I am absolute rubbish at art (even my stick figures look like they're losing the battle with gravity), so I thought I'd put it out to the talented artists of the fandom. If anyone is interested in trying their hand at creating a visual representation of the statue from the end of the following fanfic, feel free to give it a go. I'm very interested in seeing what you come up with! :)

#good omens fandom #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #ineffable spouses #aziraphale #crowley #fanfic #good omens fanfic #good omens cozy mysteries #I added an update so you can see what I'm working on #His Sheltering Wings statue

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hotwaterandmilk · 1 year

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No Accounting for Taste

I've never been accused of having "good taste" when it comes to, well, any type of media. However, when it comes anime/manga I find I'm accused of being contrarian or ignoring genuinely "good" titles in favour of "bad" ones fairly often.

While that's not exactly groundless, it doesn't paint the full picture of what I find interesting and why it intrigues me so I thought I'd write about it a little.

I like a lot of popular, agreed upon "good" titles where a masterful artist or team or artists executes a beautiful vision that may not get everything right, but still manages to tick the majority of boxes and leave the audience remembering the experience for years to come (something like Shoujo Kakumei Utena or Cowboy Bebop, for example).

However, these series don't tend to be the ones I obsess about and collect things from and that comes down to the fact that I just love an interesting mess. Something that catches my attention in a unique way despite not having the story weight/talent/etc. to pull it all off.

You know those series with a fantastic concept but terrible execution? Or series with a couple of genuinely fascinating characters and mediocrity across the board otherwise? Yeah, those are what I love.

That doesn't mean I turn my head and ignore these flaws (Akihabara Dennou-gumi for example has a fantastic backdrop of alchemy, but that doesn't excuse the disgusting fanservice or explain piss-poor overall production).

If anything, I find those flaws intriguing in their own right (how does something with so much promise end up failing to stick the landing? Why were these the directions these titles took?) and learning about why they happened can continue to fuel my interest in the titles years after I've first experienced them.

And of course what is "good" and what is "bad" is extremely subjective, not everyone will agree on what the "best" title of all time is no matter how many fans you survey. I think what matters to me at the end of the day is that, for whatever reason, an eclectic assortment of titles have just hit me at the exact right point in my life for me to become engrossed by their eccentricities, flaws, and yes, even their successes.

That's why you'll find me sharing the odd scan from genre-defining titles like Sailor Moon, but when it comes to tearing apart art books and tracking down obscure pieces of stationery, I reserve that kind of dedication for Wedding Peach because it just hit me different 25+ years ago and I still can't shake it (despite the series being what it is).

Anyway, Saturdays are a real brain fog day for me because Friday is when I take my weekly meds so, err, this isn't a particularly articulate examination of my interests or anything. I just got to thinking last night that I find Ryuu-ou Mahoujin more intriguing than GALS! despite the former being a short-lived, break-neck paced mess of a production and the latter being a clearly thought out and popular title from the same author.

I'm also currently re-watching Kamichama Karin and it is such a hot mess of things I can't stand and things that make me genuinely go "what was Koge-Donbo* thinking?" but these flaws compel me to keep pressing play on episode after episode.

I just feel that at the end of the day there's enough room in the world for all of us to enjoy different problematic faves and to highlight successes without pretending failures don't also exist. Every project whether it ends up "good" or "bad" has a team of individuals doing their best on it and I think that's something that resonates with me even if the end product is a total mess.

Sometimes a project veers away from the course it was meant to take and never becomes what it could have been, but those trace elements of brilliance can get noticed by someone who experienced the title at the right time and vibed with the core concepts regardless of the execution.

So creators, take heed, even if the project you work on doesn't end up an iconic series with millions of fans there will always be weirdos like me out there that love the memorable parts of what you did manage to do while also noting the bits you got wrong. Sometimes one person's trash really is someone else's treasure (and yes you'll have to pry Wedding Peach et al. from my cold, dead hands).

youtube

#meta #ramblings #random thoughts #sorry i can't word good today #but i wanted to get this out of my brain #feel free to disagree #i just enjoy trash idk #that's me #and that's what you'll find here

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futbolfanficpunk · 1 year

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The Coach

Player: Pep Guardiola Word count: 2,9k+ Summary: Reader is a fem football player who signs up for a 3-week summer clinics camp with Pep Guardiola and his staff. She starts developing feelings quickly for Pep, as she always had a crush on him. At a party on the last day of camp, while in a drunken state and feeling she has nothing to lose, she decides to confess her feelings. Warning: Angst, Smut, Infidelity Authors note: I had this in the back of my mind for a long time, so, I skipped over other stories I had started and wrote this as quickly as I could (which was not that quick at all, it got accidentally deleted halfway through writing, meh). I have the second part in my mind as well. I don't know if I'm ready to share it though, it goes against the sanctity of marriage HAHAHAHA

Edit: Part 2 Part 3

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Pep Team Summer Camp and Clinics for Professional Female Footballers. That was the title of the email you received from your agent, “You need to get on this! Let’s sign you up?” the body of the email said. You didn’t think twice. You loved the idea of working and learning from Pep Guardiola and you knew he was never going to coach a women's team. This was your chance. “Yes, sign me up!” Fucking Pep Guardiola, fucking Fc Barcelona player, your dream club. Villareal was an amazing club to play for, a growing team but Barca was your goal. Plus, you always thought Pep was charming and handsome, you always had a lil’ admiration crush on him, it would be cool to finally meet him.

On week one of the clinics, you were progressing and getting along with both staff and other players. You shared your room with a girl from As Roma’s team,Valentina, you would communicate in English because it was your only language in common. You had a good time with her, always chatting and joking around a bit before going to sleep. You spent your Sunday off together, went to the beach and around town in Barcelona, where the camp took place.

Pep had already noticed you that week, you saw him staring at you in the last two days and had his staff come to give you extra challenges or exercises, and had them pass the info back to him. You only talked to him twice, you think both times you held your breath the entire time you weren’t talking. By the end of week one, he asked to have a private meeting with you, he wanted to see what type of person you were, your goals, your drives and passions. You spent 30 minutes talking, he was really easy to talk to, his dry sense of humor and sarcasm had you cracking up and you learned that you both like cinema. You told him about your Italian movie collection, he liked Spanish and indy American movies.You told him who your favorite players of all time were. You told him your goal was to end up at Barcelona, play at the Camp Nou and win titles so that eventually you could also get a spot in the National Team. The whole summer clinic camp, if not worth for the footballing value, had been just worth it to have this time with Pep. You found that you actually really like who he was and that made him even more attractive in your eyes. You had noticed the lil’ mannerism he had and made him more likable. You replayed your conversation over and over in your mind during the next couple of days. You didn’t know why, mainly fangirling, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

On week two Pep was now talking to you directly during the session at the end of the day of the day, where you would have mini games in groups of 7s. He would call you to give your instructions or correct something you had done, most of the time he would be animated and loud and touched you when talking to you to enphasize what he was saying. Sometimes he would talk closer to your ear, especially when it was a correction, he would be so close to your ear you could feel a bit of his hot breath hitting you, his Catalan accented words floating into your ears. By the third day he was calling you to give you instructions your already agitated heart would skip when he signaled for you to come, and when he was talking to you while you nodded you felt your nipple harden and you core get warm, you almost zoned out to concentrate on his tone coming to your ears “Y/A, you understand, yes?” he asked

“Yes, coach”. You knew thoseinteractions weren't anything special, nor reserved for you, he did it with a few players, the best ones, you could tell that was the dynamic of the clinics. Your teammates were talented players and you were proud to be considered one of the best among them. You were 23, you weren't one of those freaks who were already stars at 21 like Claudia Pina, but you knew you could be great, amazing, if you kept working and fighting for it. Pep seemed to agree. “Real good work today, kid” he said at the end of the session on the fourth day of the second week and gave you a big hug with a few pats on your back, “Thank you, coach” you said as you side-hugged him back and smiled. “Keep it up” he said while walking away and complementing other players.

By the third and final week you felt that Pep was closer to being a colleague or a friend than just a coach, he had the chance to talk to him with other players and staff during lunches. They all joked around, and shared stories. You couldn't stop smiling when he was around, he probably just thought you were a person who always smiled for no reason. Two days before the last day he took you aside for two minutes to give you praises on your game intensity, pass progression and for trying to score more as he had asked you. You smiled the whole time not only with your mouth but with your eyes, you were sure you were glowing or blushing, just didn’t know which one. “Thank you, Pep, these past three weeks have been so amazing, a real learning experience and an honor. It has helped my confidence and I’ll try to keep working on everything you pointed out”, “Good” he said and put his arm around you “Keep working, you got this Y/N. You’re good, don’t doubt it” and gave you a lil pat on the shoulder. You wanted to hug him and kiss his face right there,your crush was peaking, but you just smiled and nodded because you weren’t a crazy person, you were a professional.

The Saturday after the last day of the camp, there was a big party at a beach hotel’s event room for all the girls, staff and coaches to say good bye and party together. You partied with Valentina and other girls. There was food and booze. You had one more drink than you should have. You started having stupid thoughts, like maybe you should tell Pep about your crush on him. You probably won’t see him ever again, anyway, and that way you could live with yourself and not be horny and crushing around an older guy. You had a thing for older men, you always did. You had dates a 35 year old and a 42 year old. This was not a surprise. The surprise was you wanting to act on such a fucking crazy idea. You took a last sip of your drink and told the girls that you would be right back. You looked for Guardiola everywhere. You couldn’t find him, so you asked one of the coaching staff and they told you to check by the beach. You went out to the beach and there he was, barefoot holding his sneakers with one hand, looking at the waves crashing into the sand while walking.

“Pep” you shout

“Y/N” he responded”Is everything ok?”

“Yes, fantastic” you said while sloppy walking closer to him and slightly slurring your words.

“What’s up?” He inquired

“Nothing, just came to talk to you” you answered

“With me? What about?”

“You”

“What do you mean?”

“Well” you sighed “I have something to tell you, and it’s kinda silly but I thought since we’re probably not seeing each other in person again or possibly in years, and I’m druuunk, that I would”

“Oh, fuck”

You laugh.

“It’s worse for me, coach”

When you got ready for this party, you got dressed for him, your cute short blue dress with silver jewelry, girly makeup. You’ve seen his wife, she’s adorable. You weren’t going to compete but you were going to show off just in case you could get him to notice you.

“Go on’ he said crossing his arms

“Pep, I’m glad I’ve had this opportunity to work with you over the past weeks. But I have to say that I found that you were not only a good coach, but also such a fun person to be around and I like you a lot”

“You make it sound like liking someone as a colleague is a bad thing”

“Because I’m saying that I have a crush on you, guapo”

He laughs while you frown like a little girl “How old are you again, Y/N?” he asked

“23” you shot back” “Well, my wife and I have been together 22 years, you know that?”

“I didn’t but I’m not asking you to marry me or anything,” you said while tucking your hair behind your ear “ I just wanted to tell you -- I just wanted you to know that I’m crazy about you and that maybe if you like me back, just a little bit, you should kiss me before we never see each other again” you finished saying while surprising yourself on how you got the cojones to tell him. “You are out of your mind. I could be your dad and you’re telling me all these things?” “I’m not a lil’ girl, and I don’t care that you’re older than me. I've been with older men before” “You’re drunk and you know what? Don’t go back to the party, just go back to your hotel room”

“but Pep–”

“I said go back to your hotel room, NOW” he said in a voice you had never heard from him. “Fuck” you muttered in frustration while you went back to the hotel to go straight to your room. Once in your bedroom, you calmed down. The adrenaline rush was gone and you realized what you had done. You couldn't do anything except cry, not out of rejection but out of complete embarrassment. You quietly drunk-cried until you fell asleep.

When you wake up, your roommate was almost already packed. Your head is throbbing. She said “I’m leaving for the lobby in 5 minutes, but I’ll see you there. Won’t leave until we say good-bye. Va bene?”

“Okay, Vale” you said while rubbing your eyes and went straight for the shower. After getting dressed, taking an aspirin for the hangover, and putting on some makeup, you went to organize your bags. You were trying to finish packing up when someone knocked on your door. You were wondering if your silly roommate left her card-key she needed for the checkout.

You open the door saying, “Did you leave you card-key, silly?”

And there he was, Pep Guardiola with a very serious look on his face.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were Valentina” you said

“Can I come in to talk?” he asked

“Yea, sure but I’m finishing up packing” you quickly replied

You were scared shitless and embarrassed to see him again but also excited, wondering what exactly he wanted to say. You let him in, and go back to your bed to continue packing up your things.

“I just came to make sure you were okay because you were really drunk last night,” said Pep once in “and said some crazy things.”

“I’m okay, just have a nasty headache” you said while you finished putting the last piece of clothing away in your bag “and I wasn’t saying crazy things,” you turned to look at him “I was telling you the truth”.

If you learned anything from being with guys over 35 years old is that they appreciate directness and love confidence. And even if you were nervous right at that moment,you weren’t going to act like it. He was here, and that was a win.

“Well, putting your inappropriate comments aside, I hope we can maintain a professional relationship and I wish you the best. I’ll see you in the lobby” he said

“No” you said

“No, What?”

“ You didn’t come down to my room just to say this little line, Did you?I call bullshit. You could’ve said those exact same words in the lobby or anywhere else but my room”

“ Are you accusing me of something?”

“ I’m accusing you of being intrigued,” you said while getting closer and pressing your fingers on his light training jacket “ I’m saying, maybe you like me”

“You have a lot of nerve”

“Then why haven’t you said no, Pep?”

“No to what?”

You grin and let out a chuckle, he is playing dumb and you know it, he’s into this. You take one more step forward so that’s no space between you two while he stares at you like he wants to kill you for tempting him.

“To me” you pull his jacket toward you and press your lips against his. He wrapped his hands around your arms with little strength to push you back but his hands melted there and his lips kissed you back. You pull back a bit to get your hands on his face to cup his cheeks and kiss him again with your mouth a bit open to fit his upper lip in between yours. He started to kiss you back with his mouth open as he pulled you towards him while holding your waist, he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you met his with yours. You placed your hands on his shoulder as the kiss became more intense, you could hear his agitated breathing. You wanted him. You weren’t sure how far you could take it as people were waiting for you both but you didn’t care. You pulled slightly away from his mouth, took his hands, and guided him down your ass, “Touch me, please”, he just stared at you, pupils dilated, and did as you said. You kissed his olive-tone neck as he fondled your ass. You went for his mouth again and your hands went down his torso to explore his pants. Your hands found his hard member and rubbed on top of it through his clothes. He groaned into your mouth while your tongue danced with his. You wanted him to feel how much you wanted him, so you parted from the kiss, pulled the elastic from your joggers and panties out to make space for his hand, and with your other hand pulled his hand into your in-between “Feel me” you instructed. He rubbed the folds of your wet core with his fingers while he bit his lips, drawing big circles around your core, it made you so excited you let out a small moan. “How are you this wet? He asked while looking at your moany mouth.“I told you before, I like you, a lot. I want you” you said in a breathless voice as you kissed his chin and neck.

He took this hand out of under your clothes and backed up with a concerned look on his face “We can’t do this”

“Why not? You’re here, aren’t you?” you said while reaching for his arm “you aren’t going to leave me high and dry, are you? You asked in a whiny voice and a pout, but internally you were getting ready to be rejected because you had seen doubt in his expression.

“This is a line I’m not ready to cross, dear” he as he crosses his arms across his chest “I have a family, y/n, I’ve lost control as it is”

“I’m glad you did, though”

“I’m sure” he sighs “I’m going to go the lobby before I do anything else that I will regret”

“Can I have one more, please?”

“One more?”

“Kiss”

He came over to you, held your face, and placed a soft kiss on top of your lips. You smiled with your eyes closed and whispered “Thank you”

He let out a small incredilous chuckle “You’re cute” he let go of you and said with intensity that defines him “but this ends here. We’re not going to talk about this, you’re not going to contact me. This is something that’s not happening again. Understood?”

“Yes, coach” you replied, because even though you wanted to challenge him you know he was serious and you should leave it.

“Good luck with everything” he said as he turned around towards the door

“Hey, Guardiola”

“What?

“Smell your fingers” you said while giggling

“Fuck you” he said with a chuckle

He closed the door behind him and you did a little dance in your room and giggled. You let your body slam into the bed. You sighed and touched your lips trying to trace where he had just kissed you. You couldn’t believe it. You actually kissed him, you touched him and he touched you. He was the oldest man you ever had kiss, but probably the most intense of them all. You were warm and fuzzy. How did you pull this off? You thought to yourself.

Valentina gave you a hug near the entrance of the hotel lobby “You took forever! I almost left without saying good-bye”

“I know, sorry! Had to reorganize my bag because I couldn’t close it, and my backpack was full too! But keep in touch and best of luck in Roma, maybe I can visit you sometime”

“Good luck to you too. And text me, you bitch”

“I swear I will” you said and laughed.

You look around to see if you could see him one more time before you leave for the one week you have left to actually go on vacation before pre-season starts. You did see him, he was saying goodbye to some of the coaching staff, you stared for a lil’ too long and he noticed and looked back. You mouthed off a “bye” and waved. He waved in your direction and immediately kept talking to the people around him. You sighed and left for the airport.

A month into your pre-season with Villareal you were still thinking about Pep and often. You never tried to contact him, but you thought of all the things you would say if you could see him again, you thought about the hotel and the way he kissed you. You had done well during the pre-season, you were disciplined, and were always in the starting eleven. Outside the pitch, you weren’t being too crazy, you only acted out during your one-week vacation in San Sebastian, where you made out with a divorced 30-year-old guy you met at a tapas bar and ended up bar hopping with him. You were chasing the feeling that kissing Pep gave you but it wasn’t even close. Your phone vibrated and you got a notification from a phone you didn’t recognize, it was really late but you weren't sleepy and watching a series.

You included a picture from your personal trainer's gym you had taken that week. You didn't care if it seemed you were trying hard. You were always going to shoot your shot. He heart-reacted to it but didn't text back. You knew then; he's thinking about you too, even if he's too afraid to admit it. That made you happy.

#pep guardiola #pep guardiola imagine #man city imagine #manchester city imagine #manchester city fanfic #pep guardiola fanfic #football fanfic #football fac fiction #man city fan fic #pep guardiola x reader

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l-e-morgan-author · 3 months

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my current wip list

Hands Made for Gentleness is about my two dear idiots Vaniah and Anneka, who get married to dodge an arranged-marriage law. Vaniah is incredibly traumatised by events in his past. Anneka discovers this as time goes by. It's a story of healing, mainly, and mental health. Boatload of trigger warnings (Vaniah is severely depressed, suicidal and all that goes with that, while Anneka is in recovery from anorexia) but I love them so much and I love the energy that's between them. At this moment I'm writing a scene in which they're arguing because Vaniah abruptly shut down a kissing scene without explanation and the conversation afterwards got mildly heated. Also they basically end up in a QPR more than a traditional romantic relationship and I love that for them. They're late twenties or so during this novel. First draft.

Patience, Changing is about Patience and her adopted sister Rhona. Patience is my autistic darling, Rhona is my current Discord pfp and anyway I love them. They have interpersonal conflicts that form the nucleus of the novel, but they work them out in the end. Teenagers, and absolutely no romantic relationships in this story which I love. Also it's set in my home city of Melbourne. First draft.

To Kindle a Flame is the first book of an embarrassingly big series. I first wrote the earliest draft for camp nanowrimo or nanowrimo itself, 2017. It started out as one book, in fact started out as a simple response to a concept outlined and failed to bring to a satisfying conclusion by a Christian book by someone in my denomination - In Search of Life by Anna Tikvah. I loved the concept (girl has questions about life, turns to the Bible and reads it, things happen), but then Verity never questioned that the Bible was true, which seemed wack to me. So I started writing a story in which my main character (Adira) found a copy of the Bible and then began to read it, but the whole time she's questioning it. It turned into about 300k of messy drafting (I've drafted it uhh three times by now and am gradually working on overhauling it, grabbing what bits I can and then finishing the draft, ideally this year) and has become a story about mental health, choices and the way people figure out beliefs. In the Gospels there's a line in which Pilate says "What is truth?" - that's basically the tagline of To Kindle a Flame. It's also dystopian. It's my beloved baby. Anyway I'm normal about this story. Also Adira is autistic. Oops. I didn't intend that. I just looked at her character one day and went Yet Another Autistic Character Ay. xD It's also set in Melbourne, but aforementioned dystopia renders Melbourne unrecognisable. I've done a bunch of worldbuilding on her. Also features the character who was the first openly queer character I ever wrote - Tom, who's bi, though he ends up married to Adira and never has a mlm relationship during the story (has prior - in the story he's side B). Somewhere between first and second drafts.

Do Roses Cast Shadows? was the most recent nanowrimo, and I got a grand total of 12k into it. I uh. Don't know what's going on really. I don't recall much, but I'd like to get back to it someday. My characters are Wren and I can't recall the male main character's name.

They Told Me To Name My Demons is a poetry collection I'm working up to publication someday. It's about Christianity, suicidality, depression, autism and identity. I plan to include 100 poems and 7 prose pieces, of which I've so far written and somewhat edited 84 poems (might have a few more, I haven't crossreferenced with my phone lately) and 4 pieces of prose. The title is from a blog post I read years ago and then wrote a poem in response to. Most of the poems have been written in the last year or two. I chase inspiration where I see it. First draft.

Sparks Under Heaven is a collection of five short stories/novellas, all connected to To Kindle a Flame (one features Adira, two her grandfather, one someone another character knew in his youth and the other focuses on an event from To Kindle a Flame but from someone else's perspective). I've had it professionally edited but the edits are sitting there still waiting to be touched, largely. Second-last round of edits before I self publish.

Through Lightning, Through Thunder was nanowrimo 2022, the happiest novel I've ever written and absolutely beloved. It features Taira (rabbit), Paddy (fox), Sheba (lynx), and various less important characters. It started out life as a Narnia fanfic, focused around my original characters with occasional mentions of the Four. It was 15k. Then I fleshed it out into a full original novel, 100k-and-counting. Oopsie. The good guys are trying to stop an evil dragon being resurrected (based on the Witch scene in Prince Caspian). In the end everyone lives happily ever after. Yay. Second draft.

[Inklings story] is about Hadassah, autistic darling of my heart who is thrown through a portal and discovers a found family on the other side, essentially. Downtrodden autistic but becomes happy and confident. First draft.

The Time Travelling Midwife is about Felicity, ALSO autistic (surprise!). I haven't got very far with this one either, it exists mostly in vibes in my mind. It's best summarised as the story with the time travelling midwife, who travels in time, is an angel, tries to stop evil from prevailing and when it does eventually through the building of the tower of Babel (mainly facilitated by one of her colleagues), her time travelling powers are taken away and she ends up settling somewhere in the 1900s and having a happy life. First draft.

Only the first and second are in active development right now. Please ask me about any part of any thing of this post. I copied and pasted directly from the Discord in which I rambled about them.

If I've forgotten any wips that you know about please tell me, lol. And this is only about full length novels or collections, not shorter stories.

#hands made for gentleness #patience changing #to kindle a flame #do roses cast shadows?#they told me to name my demons #sparks under heaven #through lightning through thunder #inklings story #the time travelling midwife #my writing #my wips

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