#but if i keep going like maybe next month i can actually publish something???

[desperatepleasures]

okay I think slow n steady might just be the way to go for me bc I thought I was making such tiny progress (never hit 1000 words on any given day) but my monthly goal was originally 3k and I've passed 6k now with a few days left :0

[dira333]

Caught a kiss - Amajiki x Reader

for @missalienqueen - hope this was the vibe you were looking for - Follower Celebration Request

You are going to lose your job.

It’s as easy as that and just as painful to accept.

You have less than 24 hours to deliver your final draft; all you’ve got so far are the villain's design, the hero’s parents and best friend, and a rough draft of what you want to happen. Oh, and about twelve crappy drafts of the hero, every single one worse than the one before.

The hero with the strength quirk is just a cheap version of All Might and has been overdone for ages. The hero that looks dark and sinister but is actually a sweetheart reminds you too much of former Pro Hero Eraserhead and you don’t want anyone to accuse you of using your former teacher for your work. 

One should think that coming up with new ideas comes easier after three successful book deals, but the opposite is the problem. 

.

After more than six months of creative block, you cannot hide it any longer from the publisher or your writing partner, but you will be damned if you give up before your time has fully run out.

You get up with a heavy sigh, hoping against all odds that another cup of coffee will solve your problems. 

Just as you push yourself up, an explosion goes off outside, its force strong enough to leave the floor trembling. You stumble, but your balance is off and you knock heavily into your table. Your hip and thigh hurt from the impact but you try to get up, only to be knocked to the other side by the second blast, the explosion even closer this time. 

“Here.” Someone cushions your fall with their body. You look up into a pale face, almond-shaped eyes filled with worry as they take you in. Right. It’s the person who always sits ducked into the corner booth, fully engrossed in a book every time you come in to write. So far you’ve never seen more of him than the messy indigo hair that is not hidden behind his book. You can’t help yourself but take him in now that you’re this close. His mouth is a tight line and his ears… your heart lurches at the sight of their pointed tips. It makes him look like an elf.

“A-A-Are you okay?” The man stutters and you nod, blink yourself out of your stupor only to realize that you’re leaning way too heavily into him. All he did was keep you from falling over and you’re repaying the favor by putting all your weight onto him.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s o-okay.” His mouth pulls into an even firmer line and he looks past you. Whatever he sees has his eyes widening and you turn to see for yourself, only to be pulled down.

“Stay here.” He insists, voice suddenly firm. “Hide in the booth.”

Another explosion rings out, the sound deafening this time. When the ringing stops, he’s gone from your side. From your new hiding space, you can see him, walking upright to the door. 

He’s a dichotomy, soft indigo cardigan wrapped around his lanky figure as if trying to protect him from the harshness of the world, but his steps are firm and his posture speaks of determination. You can tell that he knows what he’s doing in the way he utters short commands to the other people in the coffee shop.

-

The next time you see him is half an hour later when the police are taking statements.

He’s standing a bit to the side and someone must have brought him his hero costume, but you’d recognize that indigo hair everywhere, even if it’s partially hidden by a white hood. 

“I didn’t see much.” You say, eyes never leaving the guy who, in your eyes, saved the day. “After he… I’m sorry, I don’t know his name, but the Hero in the white tunic… After he stepped out, I briefly saw a group of men with black suits and black face paint. And then, a few minutes later, one of them ran this way.” You point down the street. “But he was wearing something else. Something red on his head, like a wig, maybe?”

The police officer gives you a skeptical look. “Are you sure? You’re the only one who pointed that out.”

“I mean, I could be wrong, I’m not sure if it was a wig or not. Did no one else see someone running?”

“They did, but they all agree it was a civilian.”

“No, it was definitely not a civilian. I saw his face and while it didn’t have any facepaint on, it was clear that he wasn’t frightened. He looked pissed. No civilian would run around looking like that after such explosions and a bank robbery going on at the same time, don’t you think.”

“We’ll look into it.” The officer says, noncommittally and leaves you in favor of talking to someone else. 

Your eyes immediately wander back to the hero who saved you and your legs seem to take that as an order to get you over to where he stands.

“Hi.” You start, surprised to see that he blushes instantly, head pulling back into the safety of his hood. “I-I’m sorry.” You start to stutter, “I’m normally not that forward, but I-I just wanted to tell you how amazing I thought you were.”

“T-thank you.” He whispers back and you wait, hoping for something more for him, but if he does say something, it gets swallowed by the booming laughter of a much larger man.

Fatgum, you know him from TV, steps closer. One of his hands lands heavy on the first man’s back.

“Don’t mind Suneater here. He’s a great hero, just a little shy with words. I heard you’re the one who’s convinced she spotted someone fleeing from the scene?”

“Uh, yes.” You try to catch Suneater’s eye but he��s looking at the floor as if he suspects to find the secret to immortal life down there. “But I told the police everything. I’m just good with faces, I guess. I just… I just wanted to say thank you. To Suneater, I mean. Because he saved me, in the coffee shop before.”

“Oh, he did?” Fatgum seems to find that incredibly funny because he laughs again, pulling Suneater into his side to the point that he almost swallows him whole. 

“I think he’d gladly do it again. Nothing too much for my guy. Hope we did not keep you from anything important.”

“Oh, just my draft.” You sigh, before realizing that your drawing pad is still in the shop and you have even less time now to save your job. But, there’s an idea forming in your mind just now.

“Would it… would it be okay, to use you? I mean, your hero persona, or your… likeness, for a manga?”

Suneater freezes up, elbows locking tightly against his ribs. He looks like a wooden puppet, unable to move.

“It’s supposed to be a story about a boy overcoming all odds to be a hero and when he meets the evil villain, he realizes that what he’s learned makes him the most capable to deal with him. I’ve struggled to find a story to tell but if I could… draw a hero that’s a bit shy and didn’t like attention all that much, that could resonate with a lot of children, you know? We’d call him differently, of course, and I could change the looks, but I kinda.. well, I really like your costume, it’s very…” You clear your throat awkwardly, too aware of Fatgum’s growing grin and Suneater’s growing stiffness. “Aesthetically pleasing. Yes, hmm.. It’s the aesthetic.”

“That’s a big honor,” Fatgum speaks up on Suneater’s behalf when the latter seems unable to open his mouth. “As his boss, I give you the okay. But you should leave your card or something with us so that we can have a look at the product before it gets published.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You pull a card out of your blazer pocket and hold it out to Suneater who eyes it as if it might come alive and eat him any moment. So you offer it to Fatgum who takes it with a wide smile.

-

Your drawing pad is still where you left it. You grab a new cup of coffee from the jittery barista and insist on paying for it even though she offers one for free after today’s events. 

“I’ll feel better if I pay for it,” you insist, knowing that there will be enough people taking advantage of it as it is.  

The drink grows cold next to your pad as you draw, engrossed in the story you’ve got to tell now. It’s only the time crunch you’re in that keeps you from going overboard on your hero’s features. You want to stay on the page, take your time until you get his ears right or the exact shade of his hair. In some drafts, it turns out too messy, in others too neat and you wonder if you could ask him to stand model for you, just to get a hang of the way it falls. 

Then it’s the color of his eyes. You thought they’d been a deep purple when you looked up into them hours ago, but it had been but a brief moment and you long to see them again.

It’s way past closing time when the friendly barista is finally annoyed enough to throw you out. You stumble home, eat a sandwich from the vending machine on the way up to your apartment, and get back to drawing. 

Your alarm goes off right after you put down your pen.

Your draft is finished and you lay down for a quick nap that is filled with a now familiar face. 

x

If anyone knew he was here again, Tamaki would surely lose his hero license. 

There had to be some rule against stalker behaviour but he wasn’t going to go up to HR to ask about it. 

The barista nods when he comes in, accustomed to his presence by now.

Thankfully it isn’t the same one as yesterday and this guy doesn’t seem to know he had been involved in yesterday’s shenanigans. This is embarrassing enough without people recognizing him.

He grabs his lavender tea and takes his usual seat, burying himself in the book he brought along today. “Chivalrous Hero: Crimson Riot - How I came to be” isn’t exactly his top choice of literature but Kirishima had urged him to read it and he might as well.

Nine o’clock comes and goes without any sign of you. 

He has to leave around half past ten and he can feel himself grow more and more anxious the later it gets.

Maybe you are breaking your habit of coming here after yesterday’s events.

He certainly can’t blame you for that. 

Or you realized that he’d been here every time you went there too and connected the dots. 

Surely it has to be that. No one can blame it on sheer coincidence for this long.

He should have just bitten the bullet weeks ago when he noticed you and asked you out then and there or stopped visiting when he felt his interest grow. 

Like a man, his inner voice reprimands him, sounding vaguely like Kirishima.

At ten o’clock on the spot the bell over the door chimes. He turns to look on instinct and feels the book drop into his lap without being able to catch it.

You look tired, to the point he wonders if you’ve even slept at all. Even with makeup, it isn’t hard to tell that you’re going to keel over from exhaustion any second, but still, there is a smile on your face that can rival the sun.

Your eyes move through the coffee shop, shoulders relaxing at the tune that is coming from the speakers. 

Out of habit he moves to pull his book higher to cover his face but finds his hands empty. Before he can realize why that is, your eyes cut to his. 

One, two, three seconds he feels time freeze and his heart stops beating. 

Then, just like the sun rises, your smile changes… into something almost shy and private, something he’s never seen on you before.

You duck your head and walk over, making his heart skip from non-beating to beating too fast. His blood soars in his ears and he still can’t find the damn book to hide behind. And now it’s too late for that anyway because you’re standing in front of him, the shy smile curling around your lips in a way that makes his knees feel way too wobbly.

“Can I sit with you?” You ask and he nods before he can stop himself. 

Your knees knock against his as you slip into the booth.

He takes in a breath and regrets it immediately when he can smell your perfume again. 

“I was hoping I could meet you again.” You say, pulling something from your bag. “I wanted to show you what I draw… I was… so blocked, I couldn’t draw for months but when I saw you, something clicked and I…” You stop your movements, something like a tablet in your hands. You look down in what he recognizes as embarrassment. He’s too familiar with that feeling not to recognize it on sight.

“It’s okay.” He can hear himself say. He’s not sure what he’s even trying to say, but he can feel his lips move and that’s better than what he does most days. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I should say sorry anyway. I’ve been sitting here for weeks trying to talk to you and couldn’t get over myself.”

Wait, he thinks, panic bubbling in his stomach. Did he just… say that?

Your mouth is open, your eyes wide. You certainly look like you heard what he just thought out loud.

“You were trying to talk to me?” You ask. “Why didn’t you-” You seem to realize that he’s starting to sink into himself, that he’s actively trying to merge with the booth and stop speaking. 

That’s it, he thinks. He knew it would turn out this way, he should have gotten over himself sooner.

“Here.” Your voice cuts into his miserable thoughts again, pulling him away from trying to sneak out of the booth. “Look at this.”

You turn your pad to him. There he is, or at least, someone looking a lot like him.

It’s a rough sketch of him, mid-fight. He recognizes the tentacles coming from his hands immediately. When his hands meet the monitor, the page turns and there’s the villain, telling his story of origin. There’s no text, but his face makes it clear that it’s a sad story. 

But there he is again, Suneater saving the day, hugging the villain in the end to prove that even the bad guys can be friends if you treat them nicely.

“If you want,” you say, your voice low as if you’re letting him in on a secret. “I’d like to get to know you better. Not just for this project, but… like… on a date?”

You wave your hand in front of his face. “A-Are you okay? You’re not blinking?”

“Sorry,” he chokes out, digs his fingernails into his arm to pinch himself. Yeah, he’s not dreaming. “I’m…”

“I meant it.” You assure him, put your hand where he just drew blood. “If you want. No pressure though.”

He’s still looking for words when you pull back your pad, clearly trying to give him some space.

“I… have to leave in a few minutes.” He points out, glares at the tabletop to keep his nerves. “But do you want a coffee?”

--- one weeks later ---

You’re already there when he steps into the coffee shop. You’re at work, which he can tell by the fact that you don’t even look up when he slips into the booth and puts a fresh cup of coffee next to your pad.

“Hey.” He gently pats your thigh. A few days ago that wouldn’t have been possible, but you pointed out that it’s the safest way to get your attention without messing up your work and he’s actively trying to get over himself, so there…

“Oh, hey!” You smile up at him, lean back to stretch your back out and move to press a kiss to his cheek. 

His face bursts into flames. Not literally, but figuratively and you giggle against he hot skin before pressing another kiss on his other cheek.

“Missed you.” You say nonchalantly as if that doesn’t make his heart lose a few beats.

It takes him half an hour of passive cuddling to get his heart to calm down and his brain to unmelt before he remembers what he’s supposed to tell you.

“They caught the last member of the group.” He points out when you move to take a sip of your now cold coffee.

“What?”

“The guy you saw, the one wearing a red wig? They caught him. Detective Tsukauchi said your hunch was too good to ignore and they caught him. Turns out he was the head of the gang after all. So you’re the real hero of that day.”

“What? No. It was you. Or Detective Tsukume.”

“Tsukauchi.”

“Exactly. I just pointed out something obvious. Like that.” You press your thumb against the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got something caught there.”

“What is it?” He asks, already anxious as you lean in.

“A kiss.”

His mind goes blank way before your lips meet. 

But, he supposes he doesn’t need his brain for a few more minutes anyway.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi, are there any recommendations you have for me for my writing process? My process is extremely long because I keep getting stuck. Got an idea for a conflict, okay. Stuck on fleshing that out. Eventually done. Stuck on my characters, who they are, and their roles. Finally get that done. But now I need to figure out backstory. Stuck. Figure out the plotline/solution to the conflict. Stuck. It's MONTHS between these steps of writing a story. I'm on the verge of giving up...

Slow and Clunky Writing Process

Please don't give up. The world needs the stories only you can tell. ♥

There is so much information out there about plot, story structure, conflict, goals, outlining, backstory, plot points, pacing, theme, character arc... blah, blah, blah... it can get incredibly overwhelming, especially if you can't seem to get to point of actually writing the story.

Having said that, I think it's so, soooo important to know that you don't actually have to worry so much about that stuff at the beginning.

The truth of the matter is, your first stories are probably not going to be the stories you publish. That doesn't mean you can't publish them, it's just that most of us will write two or three, maybe four or five stories before we write one that's good enough to share. As a result, what typically happens is you get a little bit better at all of those things (conflict, pacing, character arc, etc.) with every story you write. Keep learning about those things as you go, and try your best to incorporate them into each story, but you shouldn't be looking for a level of perfection that they hold you back.

Think of it like this: if you decided you wanted to build your own home, you wouldn't read a bunch of blog posts and books about home construction, maybe take a workshop or two, and then start building, expecting to build a house you could actually live in. Instead, you'd probably start by building some smaller structures... maybe a dog house, a patio with pergola, maybe help a friend split a big room in their house into two rooms. You'd take on smaller projects to put your budding skills to use and practice them. Then, when you got really good at everything, you might be ready to build your house.

Writing is the same way. You can't take all of that information and pour it into a perfect, flawless story in one go round. It's too hard, too overwhelming, and you never get a chance to actually hone your budding skills.

So, start by just writing the stories you want to write... just for fun... just to practice your skills. Don't worry if your conflict isn't perfectly fleshed out. Don't worry if your pacing is wonky or your character arc is unsatisfactory. Focus first on just writing the story. Then, you can hone your revision skills by trying to improve those things once the first draft is complete. Put the story through two or three revisions, and you're really sharpening those skills. When you go to write and revise the next story, it's going to be a little bit easier.

You'll know when you get to a point where you've written something that's publishable. You'll still need to do two or three revisions to get it where it needs to be, but the whole process will be much easier.

And one last thing: don't worry about backstory unless it's critical for helping the reader understand the world of the story, the conflict, or who the character is/why they do what they do. ♥

Happy writing! I promise it gets easier!!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[son-of-a-top-gun]

Sky's the Limit (part 1)

Hello all, so I rewatched Top Gun Maverick last night and was inspired to finally finish this enemies-to-lovers series I've had in my drafts for literally months featuring everyone's fav sexy asshole Hangman!

Warnings: two idiots as usual, Jake being arrogant, innuendo, author fem!reader

Sky's The Limit

You take off your glasses and slump your face into your hands. You had been staring at the same blank document for the last two hours and still had not typed a single word. You hear the bar door swing open and chatter filling the bar, but you do not look away, instead keeping your face in your palms.

When your Aunt Penny had offered you the chance to stay with her in sunny San Diego over the summer to finish your long-awaited second book, you practically leapt at the chance. Back in New York,  your agent, publisher and frankly every literary magazine were rabidly awaiting the next brilliant idea from bestselling debut author ‘Sky Bentley’. What you couldn’t tell them was that ‘Sky’ didn’t have a single clue what that brilliant idea was. So you had leapt at the chance to not be Sky, just for a little bit, while you tried to figure out your next steps.

You had only been in San Diego less than 12 hours before scuttling down to the Hard Deck. You had loved spending your summers here as a teenager, but hadn’t managed to come back since graduating from NYU. You had tried writing in the house this morning, but Amelia had some friends around and you couldn’t think with all their excitable chatter, so here you were. You knew the bar was pretty empty during the day, but the day was rapidly turning to evening and it was becoming less quiet. But you could tune it out. Until.

“You know darlin’, this is a bar not a library right?”

***

When Jake Seresin walked into the Hard Deck that day, he had assumed it was just another quiet evening as usual.  He had strolled over to the pool table as usual, confident that he would win, as usual, when something caught his eye. Unusual.

There was a person sat in a booth, who was…working? It was hard to discern much, except they were wearing a baggy Top Gun T-shirt and what looks like short shorts, although they are sitting cross legged so it’s hard to tell. Judging by this and the messy bun, he thought it might be a girl, but he wasn’t not sure. They had a computer out, but their head was slumped in their hands, with glasses strewn to the side. He had never seen anyone try to work in the Hard Deck in the whole time he has been coming here, especially not at 5pm on a Friday.

“Who’s that?” He asked Javy, who is setting up the balls. 

“Damned if I know.” Jake looked over in thought. Javy elbows Payback. “Hey, maybe we’ve found a girl in California that Hangman has managed not to sleep with.” Phoenix coughs. “Except you of course, Natasha.”

Jake smirked and started walking over. He loved a new game.

“Well, not for long.” Javy sighed. Nat considered the scene more closely. She had a good feeling about this.

“How much are you willing to bet?”

***

“Sorry?”

When you finally remove your hands, your vision is still blurry. You can tell there’s some sort of guy in front of you, in what looks like Navy uniform. Fantastic. It was hard to tell as you looked around for your glasses, but you had dealt with enough of these kinds of guys at family parties. Just another meathead who would say the same old shit as they always did. 

“Pardon my manners, sweetheart but you seem to be lost. The library is -” Before he can finish, you cut him off.

“Oh yes, actually, I think I am lost. I thought I was at the Hard Deck, but from the looks of you this is where Chippendales go to die? I hope you don’t mind but I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling, thanks.”

You hear him laugh a little.

“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.”

You look around for your glasses.

“Sure, whatever the Viagra guys keep telling you, buddy.” You can see him fold his arms out of the corner of your eye, but you ignore him, continuing to search for your glasses. Silence ensues for what seems like forever.

“I think you’re looking for these, Grandma.” He hands you your glasses, and you snatch them out of his hands.

“Thanks.” You put them on. You see him properly now. He’s tanned, blond and incredibly handsome, like he’s walked straight out of a Hollister ad. He leans back, arms still folding and biceps definitely flexing and your heart skips a little. Sure, it had been a while since you had gotten some, but then he smirks and it’s clear that he’s the sort of handsome asshole who knows how good-looking he is. You roll your eyes and straighten up, folding your laptop.

“I’ve gotta go. It was a real displeasure meeting you,” You stand up, but before you can turn around, you hear a familiar voice.

“Ladybug! It’s you!”

“Bradley?” At this point Bradley Bradshaw swans into the bar, wearing one of his usual god awful Hawaiian shirts and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“Ladybug?” Navy Ken raises an eyebrow. Bradley turns and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I should have known you’d be sniffing around here already.” Bradley turns back to you. “You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Bagman, I see?”

“Bagman?” You mimic Bagman’s expression, complete with raised eyebrow.

“It’s Hangman. Although most people know me as Lieutenant Jake Seresin.” Jake winks at you. “At your service.” You scoff.

“If I’m at your service, I think I’ll rather die.”

At this point Bradley lets rip with a belly laugh, placing a hand on a bare stretch of your arm. You swear you see Hangman’s jaw tense a little.

“How do you two know each other again?” 

“Me and Ladybug grew up together.”

“We’re old family friends. Bradley used to babysit me and my sister when we were little.”

“And look at you all grown up now, some bigshot fancy auth-” You shoot him a glare. Bradley is one of the few people in the world you’ve trusted with your secret, and you explicitly told him not to tell anyone. You just wanted a summer to be normal, with no pressure.

“Fancy what?” Jake looks you up and down.

“Academic. She’s a pHD student.” Bradley says immediately. Damn, that was quick, you think to yourself. You look up at him. Was Bradley always this good at lying?

“Yeah. English lit. Here working on my thesis.You wouldn’t be interested.” You make sure to put extra venom in the ‘you’. 

Bagman’s furrowed brow offers a little fake smile, but before he can retort, Bradley leads you over to the other aviators. While you are a little tense going into the group of navy guys, most of them are immediately friendly. You struggle to remember everyone’s real names and call signs, but they don’t seem to mind. In particular, the girl, who is called Natasha, links arms and drags you off to a corner.

“Thank god you’re here. It will be nice to have another woman in the midst.”

“Honestly, it would be nice to just have someone who isn’t a pilot”. Her lanky WSO pipes up. “I heard you were doing a English lit degree.”

“Oh, er, yeah. It’s Bob right?” I mean it was sort of true. Except you had completed said degree about five years ago, but it certainly helped as Bob started enthusiastically talking about books. He was cute, and you were trying to reply, but you found it hard to focus when you could feel a certain pair of green eyes boring into you from the other side of the pool table. You deliberately refused to look in Hangman’s direction the rest of the night, until you couldn’t stand it any longer.

You stride over and gently put your hand on the guy who you think is called Fanboy. 

“Do you mind if I take this?” You pick up the cue. He nods and you turn back to Hangman. “Right, are you going to play me or what?”

He tilts his head in disbelief. “Darlin’ are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Well, darlin’ If it means you stop staring at me like a wounded puppy all night, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The rest of the squad have all dropped their conversations to turn and stare at the two of you.

“Suit yourself.” He sets up the balls to break, before leaning over to whisper in your ear. “Just remember if it gets too much, you can always beg me to stop, Ladybug.”

You try not to react. After all, it’s better he thinks like this. Having watched him play the last few games, he was clearly a very good player, but you knew you have to play the player, not the game. As you break, the game begins fairly normally. He manages to pot a few in quick succession, looking visibly relaxed with a gloating smile over his beer. You deliberately shuffle, and readjust until you can tell he’s stopped looking at you. This is the time you make your move, potting several balls to take a significant lead. Jake turns back suddenly, his jaw slackening a moment before regaining composure. You can hear Bradley stifle a snigger. Being dragged around from base to base with few kids your age to play with meant that Bradley had grown up watching you whoop the ass of everyone you played at pool since the age of eight. 

“Something funny, Rooster?” Jake’s head swivels around.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Jake starts playing more ferociously, almost clawing it back until you’re both got two balls left. You walk past. 

“If it gets too much, you can always beg me to stop.”  You look him up and down, before you whisper in his ear. “I like a man on his knees.” Jake’s cheek flushes and with that you pot the final two, claiming victory. You yawn. “I think I need to head home, but it was lovely to meet you all. Well almost all of you.” You blow a kiss to Jake, before waving goodbye and swiftly leaving after giving Bradley a hug. The rest of the group stand in stunned silence.

Jake raises one hand. “Don’t say anything.”

****

Jake lies on his bed. He couldn’t sleep. This was unusual. Well, not the not sleeping part. He always struggled to get asleep. At least, when he was sleeping alone. That’s why he made an effort not to. But tonight was different.

For one, it was rare for him to be alone in bed on a Friday night. But he had been so distracted, he hadn’t even managed to follow up with the pretty blonde who had asked for his number at the bar.

He couldn’t stop thinking about your stupid face.You and your stupid face and stupid glasses and stupid lips and the stupid way you said on your knees-

He got up and paced around the room.

This would simply not do. 

Not only were you completely infuriating, but you beat the great Jake Seresin at pool. Bradley said you were here for the whole summer.  So Jake had some time to get his own back. But how? He had noticed something odd about the way you looked at Bradley when he mentioned your pHD. Something was up, Jake could just tell, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. But not before he had a cold shower first.

part two

[buginacup]

Today's Tynk! Update is all text, so you can read it here:

Talking about my experience looking for publishers, and the circumstances surrounding development at the moment.

One full year into the publisher-search gauntlet.

A little over a year ago I entered into some promising conversations with a few publishers about Tynk!

While I initially was hoping to avoid publishers entirely, I was recovering from a year full of disasters and was in the process of paying the 10k+ cut of my campaign funds in taxes. It was becoming increasingly clear that I wasn't going to be able to develop the game full time without some additional financial buoyancy.

Some of the publisher conversations fell by the wayside quickly, but a few remained active for months on months. It's impossible to really communicate the deep time that these conversations operate on, especially if you're not interested in accepting the boilerplate terms (please, never accept the boilerplate terms.) I've been aching to be more transparent about this element of the development process but frankly I haven't been able to while these conversations were happening - it's hard to negotiate one's pay if you're posting about desperately needing money to make your thing. I've been keeping a poker face as best I can while I ride this stuff out.

But, you can tell this update isn't called "Guess Who I Just Signed With ;)" - these conversations all withered to dead ends. I had been relatively optimistic about the success of these negotiations but in the past few months things turned sour. I can't fully know why things didn't work out. Some had alluded to the current harsh winds blowing through the industry, others were more enigmatic with their falloff in interest.

So what do we do?

The more I've worked on Tynk! the more I've loved it, but I won't deny that it is a big undertaking. I'm still interested in finding a publisher to speed things along - but since I'm suddenly back at square one I'm going to need to establish some other avenue of stability while I cast my line and wait for a nibble.

I don't know what my next move is. I'll be chipping away at Tynk! as always, but my current circumstances might require I give it less priority for long enough that I can produce something much smaller that I can actually sell. I've also been considering setting up a Patreon where I occasionally do tutorials on concept design, pixel art, and other visual arts techniques - but I'm unhappy to be courting my audience for cash when you've already been so generous. If I end up launching something like that and you've backed the game, please don't feel obligated to contribute to it! Also, if you have any thoughts or suggestions for what I can do you can email me at VirtualMothVG@gmail.com.

I'll be honest - I'm disheartened, exhausted, and sad. It's obvious that I'll need to spend more time "building an audience" again, but even if I wasn't burnt out by the process of vouching for my own value for a year straight I don't have a clear vision of what that looks like in the internet of 2024. Maybe I'll set up shop on Bluesky or Mastadon as well as resume frequent Twitter posting. I'll be sure to let everyone know once I've planned my presence.

Thanks for your patience as I figure stuff out - Dear Tynk is taking her sweet time, but she'll get here.

[judysxnd]

Hi, could we get an imagine where Pedro gets self conscious of the age gap with y/n and had been weird distant with you. Maybe he read an ugly article that said that he was too old for her and didn't really say positive things.

Once you fount out you reassured him and made him feel really love, Idk something fluffy.

Thanks love your writing

I know it’s been little more than a week since I published anything! I’m trying my best! It’s a busy period. And thank you! I hope you like it 😋

——————————————————————————————

You knew that making your relationship go public would be risky. It always is. Living in this world where you are being watched almost 24/7 doesn’t help hiding or keeping anything private. That’s actually what happened with Pedro. You were both seen on the beach one weekend, holding hands and kissing. At first you were both upset, it was a private beach, you were alone, at least you thought you were, but somehow, people knew.

Since this day, it has been tough. Paparazzi were already following both of you before, but now, they are way more, and it’s getting difficult to leave the house. As they are more, they are also very aggressive verbally as they are trying to get any information, especially on the age cap. Yep, this is their main goal, they want to know everything. You are in your late twenties, Pedro in his late forties.

You both knew what would happen, it can be pretty shocking, a big age gap like that. You tried not to think about it, just focusing on your careers and yourselves. But it wasn’t easy denying this part.

Unfortunately, it was harder for Pedro than for you. He has been working very hard to get where he is now, and he doesn’t want anything to jeopardize that. He doesn’t think it will ruin his career or yours, this is the last thing he thought, but it can have consequences psychologically. The harassment, the articles, it’s all they can talk about. Maybe it’s because it’s new, in a few months they will forget about it, but until now, you had to go through it all.

Pedro was on his computer, scrolling through the news when he saw an article about both of you. “Is star Pedro Pascal having a midlife crisis by dating celebrity Y/n L/n?”. He felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t stop reading the title. He knew he shouldn’t be reading this, but he couldn’t help. He had to know what they were saying. So he read the article. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard or seen before, but it was being repeated so much that he was starting to believe it. Was he really too old for Y/n? Was he just distracting himself? Did he deserve you? He suddenly got overwhelmed with thousands of questions, but was interrupted when you got home.

“Hi baby” you joyfully said as you entered the kitchen where Pedro was. He quickly closed his computer, putting a small smile on his face.

“Hey” he simply said. You started to walk towards him, but he got up, holding his computer to put it on the table in the living room. You were confused. You waited a few seconds for him to come back, but when he didn’t, you went in the living room.

“Are you okay?” He was sitting on the couch, going through his jacket to find his cigarettes.

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little tired. I’m smoking one and I think I’ll go lay down”

“Do you need anything? I can make you some tea, if you need medication I have some” you said, getting closer to him, touching his arm.

“I’m good thank you” he said, barely looking at you as he stepped outside, lighting his cigarette. He sat down on the couch, arms crossed, wondering what was going on with him.

You decided to let go for the day, maybe he was just really tired. Unfortunately, next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, even an empty house. He simply texted you that he had to go to set really early this morning, and that he will probably be home late too. There was definitely something going on. Even during the night, he didn’t stay close to you as he usually does.

That’s when you remembered. His computer. He closed it very quickly and tried to put it away from you as soon as you got home. You need to find it. You went to the living room where you last saw it, nothing, there was only yours. You checked all the drawers in the bedroom, nothing. He wouldn’t have taken it with him, he never takes his computer on set with him. You checked all the places in the house, even in the bathroom.

“Come on!” You yelled, getting very upset. You had some emails to check on your own computer, so you grabbed yours that was in the living room. When you opened it, there was a page open. It was an article about you. “What the hell?”

You didn’t remember looking at anything on internet, but it was possible you did. When you opened your mail, you realized that it wasn’t your computer, it was Pedro’s. Ironically, you both have the same computer, and he must have grabbed yours instead of his. You went back to the article, and read it. You felt awful. How could people say that about him? There is so much more about him, and about your relationship. They don’t know anything. More upset than before, you closed the computer, grabbed your keys and left the house.

A few hours later, you arrived on the set where Pedro was filming these days. After being guided by an assistant, you arrived to the latest room where they were filming. You saw Pedro on his phone, sitting in his chair, focused. He was alone, except from a few people re arranging the set.

“Pedro” you called him, as you were behind him. He got a little bit scared, and quickly turned around.

“Y/n? What are you doing here so late?”

“Well, you texted that you were finishing late, so I thought you might not have time to eat, so.. I grabbed your favorite food” you said, showing the big brown bag you were holding in your right hand. You could tell that he was nervous. “Also, I wanted to talk to you” he simply looked at you and nodded.

“Let’s go to my trailer” you smiled and followed him.

After setting the food the table, Pedro started to eat, but you didn’t.

“You know I love you right?” You simply said out of the blue. His mouth full, Pedro looked at you, nodding. “I saw the article on your computer” you said grabbing some fries. Now he was confused, and frowned. “You took my computer instead of yours” you smiled. “I know we basically agreed not to be official, but it happened without our consent, but now it’s done, and.. and we knew what would happen.. we don’t have the choice to live with it, but we have the choice to ignore it” you stared at him “it’s not true what they say, and we both know it”

“I know” he said “but it’s just.. they say it so much, so many people are saying it, there has to be some truth in it if so many people think the same thing” you hold his hand

“No! They just don’t understand. That’s their job to say shit like that. It doesn’t mean it’s true. Don’t doubt yourself, us, we are real, this is true” you said putting your right hand on his cheek, still holding his left hand.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. It’s completely normal. Remember how I felt when the article about me being pregnant got published a year ago? Just because I gained a little?” You both laughed “it’s not true. They only see two people with different ages loving each other and it’s scaring the shit out of them”

“I love you so much” you both smiled. Pedro started to lean in to kiss you. “I don’t know what I would do without you” he whispered right before kissing you passionately.

“And I love you more” you said after you parted “but now let’s eat because I’m starving and it’s getting cold” you both laughed and went back to your food.

You finished eating, and stayed with Pedro as he finished filming what he had to for the day, and got home with him. You both slept better, cuddled up, like you usually do.

[tspud-whiteboard]

[Full Previews, Final Files and Extras can be found on GoogleDrive!] !!! THE DEADLINE HAS ARRIVED !!! (End of June it was) I am currently working on putting together the final files, but as this might take a while, YOU CAN STILL KEEP SENDING ME YOUR FELLAS! Once I’ve prepared the actual, finished, fullsize versions, this pinned post will unpin itself and I’ll put a different one here, with the final previews, the download links and some information what the future may hold... maybe I’ll do a Season Two if the interest is there. But we’ll have to see about that. For now, [SUBMIT MORE] like the wind while you still can! Hello, hello! Welcome to The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe Whiteboard Collaboration (a just-for-fun fan project)! I’m assuming that you found your way here because you’re well aware what The Stanley Parable is, and that you are curious to know what a Whiteboard Collaboration might be about!

Let me cut straight to the case then. It all started in 2023 - the 27th of April, to be precise - which just so happened to be the One Year Anniversary for the release of The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe on Steam and consoles, along with the historically very important and internationally renowned - or at the very least grudgingly accepted - 4/27: STANLEY DAY!

To celebrate the occasion, and only one day too late on the 28th, an idea came forth to put together a Whiteboard, containing all those Stanleys by all the fan artists out there (all credited, of course!), a worthy tribute to the Man of the Hour! And as you can see... we’ve already got quite a few collected!

But why stop there? Since plenty of people also came up with their own Narrator designs, and there’s a good few Timekeeper-Settings-432s and Curators, and plenty of other characters (defining the term loosely here), we might as well give them all their own little space to look absolutely dashing next to each other! Imagine, all those different designs, united in one glorious collection!

My point being... I’d love to see yours in there as well.

So... how can you join in?

The gist can be found up there in the first image, but let me also put it into text form down here, with some extra information:

[Submit] your Stanley, Narrator, 432 or Curator mugshot (or all of them at the same time!). You have [some other canon TSP favorite]? Go ahead, submit ‘em, too! We’ll find a spot. The format of the picture needs to be 300px (width) x 400px (height) to fit with the others. I can resize and cut them into shape if needed, but it’ll be easier on all of us if I don’t have to do that. All pictures will have a small white frame added by me afterwards, to give them that authentic printout flair.

Should the [Submit] button not work for you (I triple-checked and it works for me, but then who knows what this thing does while I’m not looking), sending your artworks through PM or tell me where you posted them is fine as well!

AUs and all art styles are fine! Please only submit one picture per character (if you have more than one design, maybe pick your favorite, or elegantly squeeze them into one picture. If you absolutely cannot decide, sending two pictures per character is okay, but I’d like to cap it there to give everyone equal amounts of space.

Must be Safe For Work!

This is also very important: Tell me how to credit you! Your name will go under your artwork, I do have to put something there. I’ll likely default to your username if I have nothing else to go by, but it’s best if you directly tell me, right there in your submission.

I will publish your submission(s) on here as soon as I’ve added it to the queue, so you’ll know it went through okay, and so you can show it around to others if you wish! (I can’t do that with PMs, of course.)

THE DEADLINE: Please try to submit your artworks before the End of June! Yes, 2023. This month. In this year. There’s a chance I’ll change this if a sudden influx of new entries rolls in, but as of now it looks like it’s a good time to start wrapping this up. I want my life back and all. ...But prove me wrong, why don’tcha? Why not tell your favorite TSP artists that they NEED TO BE ON THIS THING? NEED TO! WE CRAVE THEM, PRECIOUS. ...Sorry, got carried away there.

I give updates regularily. Previews of the latest Whiteboard statuses, questions that need answering, sometimes I might just add some nonsense rambles, all inclusive, for free.

The FINAL files, whenever they’re ready, will be 8000x4000px in size each and are mostly a much bigger version of the previews, with maybe a few small changes for the aesthetics.That’s quite massive. Humongous. It’s really impressive to browse all those artworks next to each other at that size. Here’s the [Google Drive] link, for all to download from and share around. So far, you can always find the latest Previews and a bunch of random Extras there, along with the first fullsize Stanley board as a test. Please do make suggestions if there’s better options, or if you can’t drive the Google.

I also post on Twitter and the Crows Crows Crows Discord server (fanart channel). If either of those are more comfortable options for you, or if you know someone on there who might also be interested in joining this collaboration, maybe poke me so I can give you directions. Or you might be able to find it yourself, I’m not actively hiding them away. Not even passively.

I think that’s all for now! If you have questions, suggestions, reservations, my Asks should be open. Looking forward to hopefully a lot more additions to the Whiteboards, there’s quite a few of you guys I’d loooove to see on there!

[goodluckclove]

I'm having a lot of fun talking with people about why they struggle in their writing, and I figure I'd share a little bit about what would keep me from writing. It's especially relevant given how soon Blind Trust is coming out - and, like I said, if you're willing to be real to me I'll be real right back.

I'll put it under a read more, as I've had the amount of alcohol that it takes me to be extra loose - meaning half of one canned cocktail. And I don't want to freak anyone out who doesn't want to see me feel a little more angsty than I tend to be online. But as I said before, I want to be honest about the craft as much as I urge others to be.

Here we goooo. Say goodbye to proper capitalization babies, Dad's getting funky.

so i started writing when i was twelve years old. i wrote carnation, a 10k word zombie novella about thinly-veiled representations of me and my two best friends at the time fighting zombies. it wasn't very good. i never wrote anything before. i enjoyed it though, so i proceeded to keep writing, near-constantly for the next fifteen years.

here's the thing, though, and it's something i don't see a lot of elder writers talk about. probably because it's not a super pleasant thing to hear, but i'm pretty sure i could pull it off.

uh, my name is clove gardener. i'm twenty-seven years old now. and i do not think i'm that good of a writer.

i don't think i'm bad. i mean, i've been published. i've worked as a copywriter and a ghostwriter. i've written for work for a few years now, so - like - objectively it must be passable. i don't hate my writing. i think it's accessible, which is cool. but if you were to ask me hey do you think you're a good writer? i would skirt around the question without answering directly until i could figure out a way to change the subject.

at this point i don't think that's going to go away. the improvement, though, has been that i barely think about that anymore. it's like there's a little dipshit in the back of my head, and occasionally he will hiss-whisper this is shit what are you doing until I find a way to shut him up.

i kind of feel like that's just the thing that happens when you're a writer. it's the camp i'd rather be in, at least. because the alternative is that i'm a really good writer who might consider themselves capable to claim authority and tell you how to do things i actually know nothing about. i'd rather have doubt. maybe less than what i have now, but still.

writers, i think, overlap with theater kids in the sense of being dramatic little piss babies. i am proud to say that i am significantly less of a piss baby than i potentially could be, especially considering that i'm in writing and theater. but you're bound to be a little dramatic at some point.

i think in the six-ish months since i've started blind trust, i've had maybe two creative existential crises. that's pretty good. that's reasonable. and they were not too unproductive either. i've learned that you can feel whiny and pitying and scared and self-loathing, and still do the thing.

i don't think you should publish your book. cool, ryan (i named my inner dipshit ryan). i'm doing it anyway.

nobody actually wants to pay money for it. yeah, ryan. maybe.

you're a terrible writer. i like it, though. i want to see how it ends. so let's keep going.

if you're wanting to publish/self-publish, and you think you don't have a chance because you aren't a beacon of self-assurance and confidence - guess what, buddy, i don't think many of the greats were. it's almost a stereotype i've seen of famous writers also being angsty weirdos who crumble into despair because the apple they ate was slightly too mealy (this is based on nothing but i can see it happening to kafka). if you think you can't be a writer because you aren't like me - friend, colleague, son, daughter, child, we are both angsty weirdos and that's okay.

last week i sobbed because riley showed me a video where a kiwi bird was sad and we had to spend the rest of the night watching videos of kiwi birds before donating to a kiwi bird charity. i make one phone call to the doctor and i have to lie down for the rest of the day. i am kind, i am fun, i am funny, and i am also like three bad dice rolls away from a breakdown. you can be both of those things. i have nuance.

i'm fine, by the way. it's been a good day. i'm just stressed about publishing because the thought of asking people to pay Human Currency for my work makes me deeply uncomfortable. but we're going to fucking deal with that, aren't we, ryan?

i don't know if this is unprofessional to reveal, but if it convinces one person to pursue a life in writing even though they sometimes take a trip to the Panic Zone, fuck it. i'm fine, you're fine, we're all going to be fine.

we should name our inner dipshits. drop your dipshit names below. ryan is your classic little goblin, but he's dressed like an e-boy. i think he vapes. i hate him.

[kassymalone]

A Little Rant about Fun

Remember fun?

Remember when you could do things just because they were fun?

It keeps coming to mind recently, and it's starting to drive me nuts.

I've always done things with my hands - I used to do art before uni destroyed my love and confidence, I write things, I cross stitch, I make models, and I do these things because I enjoy them. Unfortunately I've come to hate talking to people about my hobbies because the almost always have the same response - 'what do you do with that?'

Do I sell on Etsy? No I fucking don't, this pattern took me 15 hours to finish, do you know how much I would have to charge for it?

Do I do freelance writing? No I fucking don't, why would I want a second soul-crushing job on top of my first soul-crushing job?

Why don't I actually get published instead of wasting my time with fanfiction so I can actually make some money off it? WHY DON'T YOU DO IT IF ITS SO FUCKING EASY

I've been thinking of making a quilt recently, with patches of all my favourite things, but I don't want to talk to anyone about it because I can already hear them asking 'and what are you going to do with it? Is this your practice one before you sell them? No, don't do it that way, that's the wrong way, no-one will like it!'

(Don't get me started on the 'you're doing it wrong' crowd, gatekeepers are a different rant.)

JUST LET ME DO THINGS. NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO MAKE MONEY. I know we're in a cost of living crisis right now, but I've been hearing this shit since I was a teenager, twenty fucking years ago! I still remember being talked out of singing lessons when I had a little extra money because 'what would I do with it?' Well fuck, my fat ass was never going to be the next Adele, but maybe I could have just had fun doing something I enjoy, but better?!

ON A RELATED NOTE!

You know what disproportionately annoys me? When people call the Nintendo Switch a 'toy' as if it's a bad thing. Like... yes? It's a toy? I play games on it?

'But the frame rate!', 'But the graphics!', 'But it can't run XX game!' WHO FUCKING CARES.

Yes, the xbox and playstation can connect to netflix and play blue rays and cook you dinner and raise your children, but they also cost a months rent and have all these bells and whistles to distract you from the fact that they JUST FUCKING TOYS. There's nothing either of them can do that I can't do on my PC, better and cheaper, and not have to turn on five different peripherals to make it work.

'But 4K!', 'But you can see the character follicles in this new game!', 'But the horses testicles react to the weather!'

Are you not having fun? Are you not enjoying playing your game? Never once have I been in the middle of a game and thought 'I'd be enjoying this more if it had more pixels.' I'm not even against other consoles, use whatever you prefer - if you like modern real-to life graphics then more power to you, but the amount of people who act like it actually matters somehow is concerning...

Yes, the switch hardware is behind what the xbox and playstation can do... but its a toy. Nintendo has never forgotten that it makes toys, and that's why I like it. It sits on my table, connects to my other monitor. I listen to long form youtube videos while I play TOTK. If I'm feeling sassy, I play it handheld.

My niece has one. We play Pokémon together and I let her win battles because the point is to be fun.

WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO MY POINT!

FUCK the grindset 'but how can I monetise every possible second?' bullshit, FUCK the 'taking this thing that should be fun way too seriously' bullshit.

LET PEOPLE DO THINGS JUST BECUASE THEY'RE FUN.

LET THINGS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FUN BE FUN.

And now I've used the word 'fun' so much it's lost all meaning.

Much like fun itself.

[fiddles-ifs]

With my school year ending and me graduating, I figured it's about time to announce something I've had in the works for a bit!

My very own Patreon!

Much as I'd love to quit my day job and write full-time, I got bills to pay and city living is expensive. So! This is a little extra for me, your friendly bartender/author/sewer dweller, and it also contains all sorts of fun bonus content! I feel like a big kid now <3

The Patreon is split into three tiers ($3 USD, $5 USD, $10 USD) with increasing rewards.

Keep reading for a detailed list of tier rewards, roadmap, and launch date!

OPERATIVE ($3 USD) The basic tier! For 3 cheevos, you get:

Shorts, AUs, Snippets

Monthly Q&As*

Monthly roadmap/newsletter

*monthly Q&As will not be spoiler-free but will avoid deep-lore spoilers.

HUNTER ($5 USD) The mid-tier! For 5 cheevos, you too can have:

Everything in the OPERATIVE tier

Voting on next month's bonus content

DIRECTOR ($10 USD) Affirmative, Director! For 10 bucks, Director-tier patrons get:

Everything in the OPERATIVE and HUNTER tiers

Deep Lore Q&As, streamed on Twitch every month! (A living document of questions and answers and stream recordings will also be provided for people who can't make it to the streams!)

Alpha Tester access when Greenwarden: Book 1 enters alpha!

As of now, the Patreon page is still unfinished (being worked on and Almost there, but not quite -- I want to put out some bonus content and work out some kinks before I actually publish it), but here's a roadmap on what to expect!

APRIL 2023

Set up a Twitch page, maybe buy a nice mic and webcam for the Deep Lore streams

Fine-tune Patreon

Develop bonus content to release on launch

Prep for Greenwarden's birthday

April 30th: Greenwarden monthly update

MAY 2023

Continue developing launch-day bonus content

Prep for Greenwarden's birthday

Create designated documents for questions

Test streaming to fine-tune Twitch page + OBS on my dinosaur computer

May 15th: Send out first Q&A form

May 30th: Greenwarden 1.0's birthday! 2.0 gets updated. Special birthday post

JUNE 2023

June 5th: Patreon launch! Relax a little. Publish bonus content, first poll

June 10th: First newsletter and Q&A responses roll out

June 15th: (Hopefully) first-ever Deep Lore Q&A!

June 30th: Greenwarden update

JULY 2023

July 5th: Bonus content, poll

July 10th: Newsletter, Q&A responses

July 15th: Deep Lore Q&A

July 30th: Greenwarden update

Hopefully by August, I'll get into a rhythm of post-and-development! Everything is subject to change, but I'll keep everybody updated if I have to spread things out a little further. I'm also hoping at some point to go on vacation and celebrate my finally graduating!

Thanks all!

And happy hunting :]

[sysakiddo]

5 times Lewis confronted Sebastian about his writing and one time he did not have to

1.

“You're not even listening to me.” Lewis, for lack of a better word, whines. He has a deep crease between his eyebrows. Sebastian wants to tell him the wrinkle will stay there, just to see him panic. Though he manages to hide it, Lewis is really vain sometimes. 

“I'm kind of busy at the moment.” No apology. “You were saying?” 

The room is too hot and sticky for Sebastian to play mind games with Lewis. He wants to be alone and count down the minutes to when he can take a cold bath. 

Suddenly, Lewis moves quickly, soundlessly. He likes to remind Sebastian he is a cheetah, with or without a car. 

Sebastian does not manage to hide the tab he had opened. As a rule, these days, he is not fast enough. 

“Seriously, Seb? The Times crossword is more important than what I'm telling you?” 

“I would never dream of saying you're not the most important thing in the world.” the blond huffs, feeling mean now. 

He is very obviously fishing for a reaction and Lewis knows it. From previous experiences, he also knows the fight would not bring him any gratification. He smiles tightly instead, sitting down on the couch. 

Sebastian glares at him, hating how Lewis looks like he belongs there. Like there is no place where he belongs more than on the couch in Seb's driver's room. 

“I finally read your book. The one about the spies, Burning Snow?” he clarifies as if Sebastian doesn't know the plot and names of his own books. 

And look, Sebastian is still mad at whoever leaked his identity to the press. It is more than a month since the whole world discovered that he, Sebastian Vettel, four times world champion, is also an acclaimed author. He published all of his books under a pseudonym, which worked pretty well. Until now. 

The people in the paddock took it in stride. Out of them, who looked like they could write a book that became a bestseller long before his identity had been revealed? The bee rescuer is the only one fit for the job. 

Valterri was the first to go through the bulk of his publications, three novels and one book for kids. 

Your writing is pretty good. Maybe you should try and publish it someday :) 

The text from Valterri after he finished made him huff, but deep down, something in his chest had eased. 

Lewis, however, was weirdly evasive on the topic. He was apprehensive about reading any of Seb's work and only got to it when Valterri left all of the books on his desk, with a post-it note on the top. 

READ IT!!!

Immediately after finishing the first chapter of the first novel, he regretted not starting earlier. Uncovering the similarities between the side characters and the people in the paddock was a lot of fun. It felt like an intimate look into the story that Seb's readers wouldn't normally get. One of the characters, the one who actually holds the key to the climax of the story and is far more important than the reader would have thought at first, is based on him, he thinks. Lewis only puts it together at the end. It's the way the character's dialogues are written that gives it away. He thinks it fascinating to find out how Sebastian privately perceives him. He describes him with great detail, things that Lewis wouldn't think to notice about him even. The thought of being so closely watched makes the top of his ears heat up. 

Now, Sebastian is watching him, unimpressed. “You can read?” 

Lewis keeps ignoring him - it works most of the time. “My favourite was Thomas, naturally.” 

The top of Seb's cheeks turns bright red.  “N-narcissist.” He tries to keep his composure, shaking his head a little. The stutter exposes him and Lewis smirks like he has just won. And his trophy is sitting on a stool in front of him. 

“Well, I gotta run now. I'll come back with a review of book number two!” 

Seb is too overwhelmed to react before Lewis slips out of the door. He sighs, returning to his crossword.

2.

The next time Seb sees Lewis, he curses the way his heart flutters in his chest when he sees his smile. 

“I tried the recipe, you know,” Lewis lets his hand linger on Seb's forearm as he stops him in his stride. They are both rushing to get to the debrief on time. Lewis does not care. 

At Seb's quizzical face, he puckers his lips a little in annoyance. “The one from Freedom to Pheasants; what Matilda used to offer her cousins when they came over. I, of course, used soya yoghurt and I still had a little bit of the honey you gave me-” Seb opens his mouth to interrupt him but does not succeed. “I used almond butter and cherries instead of raspberries and let it freeze for a few hours. Why didn't you tell me sooner? It is delicious.” 

“We really have to go, guys.” the intern standing beside them looks like he regretted taking this job and would rather jump off the cliff than listen about frozen yoghurt treats for another minute. 

“Did you like it? The book, I mean.” Seb asked, feeling like a kid asking for compliments on his drawing. He regrets it almost immediately. Lewis flashes him a big smile, open and sincere, the sight only a few people are graced with. 

“Yeah, man. The dialogues were spectacular.” 

When Seb opens the freezer in his motorhome a few hours later, he is taken aback by a small white box with a sharpie-drawn smiley on top. When he opens it, five perfectly symmetrical yoghurt bites punch the air out of his lungs, like he missed a stair. With shaky hands, he fishes out one and takes a bite. The aftertaste of honey in his mouth makes his eyes water. 

3.

“Seb! Seb! Sebastian!” the whispering grows louder with each call of his name and Sebastian feels himself getting pulled out of the slumber. He groans loud enough for the woman sitting next to him, someone from McLaren's marketing team, to glare at him. 

“What?” he snaps at Lewis, the other man taken aback. He doesn't expect to see the dark circles under Seb's eyes, his ashen skin looking almost white. 

He gulps, worry bubbling in his chest. “Care to join me for dinner?” 

The German sighs, hunching in his chair even more. He jerks his shoulders, which Lewis takes as an affirmative response. 

A few hours later, every corner of Lewis' apartment is filled with quiet music. Seb is watching his every move from the bar stool in his kitchen. Lewis feels weirdly exposed like that, chopping onions for their dinner, even though it isn't the first time he has made dinner for Sebastian. Not by a long shot. 

“Daniel must have been thrilled,” he cuts the silence abruptly. Seb doesn't understand and makes a go-ahead gesture with his hand. “When he found out you based the main character on him, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Sebastian smiles bashfully. “You've read This room can not be eaten?” 

Lewis nods. The book for kids took him the shortest to read, naturally. To his bewilderment, he enjoyed it a lot. After he had finished, he immediately bought a copy for every kid in his family. 

“I don't think Daniel had realised Rick is based on him, actually.” Seb chuckles, his eyes lighting up in joy. 

Sebastian starfishes on the couch after they finish eating. Lewis pours them a second glass of wine and sits down next to him. Carefully, carefully. 

The German looks better after eating, though he still very clearly lacks energy. Lewis turns on the television, mainly as the white noise. 

He falls asleep in no time, and Lewis stands up to put the fluffiest blanket on him. He makes sure both his shoulders are covered, hesitating a bit before brushing the stray strands of hair out of his forehead. 

When he sits down, Sebastian whines softly and puts his cold feet under Lewis' thighs. 

Lewis lets himself hope. 

4.

The next time they see each other, Lewis is a few drinks in, talking a little louder than he usually would. Seb finds him laughing in a circle of a few of their friends. He is like a magnet, though he never fully realised how much power he holds in a crowd of people. 

“Birthday boy!” Seb beams at Charles, hugging him firmly. He already congratulated him this morning with a gift and a proper speech. Now, it's time to clink his glass with him, which, he personally thinks, is too old to do properly. 

Either way, he lets himself get lost in the conversation. Charles, Lewis and Daniel make it easy for the debate to flow without his input. 

“Oh, Seb, I almost forgot! Arthur told me to tell you he loved When I Was Older! He wanted to know if it would be okay to ask you some questions later.” 

The attention shifts to Seb after Charles' words. Stupidly, he can feel his cheeks flush. “Eh, thank you. I appreciate that. Sure, send him my way when you see him.” 

“He kept talking about the plot twist for days. I still haven't finished the first one - I'm sorry, I'm such a slow reader - but yeah, Arthur thinks the sequel is even better.” 

Lewis snorts. Charles whips his head towards him, surprised. The same goes for Sebastian. Sure, the reviews for the second book in the spies series were mixed. But he thought the bad reviews were biased - the book came out at the same time his alias got revealed. 

“You did not like it?” Charles asks naively. He hasn't been sober for hours now. 

The Brit looks affronted by the idea of liking the book. “I hated it.” he spits and, yeah. Sebastian is shocked at just how much those words hurt. He has no resources to hide it, so instead, he bares his teeth in a leering smile. 

To his great surprise, Daniel joins in. “Well, of course, what Thomas did was questionable, but that made the plot twist even better.” 

Lewis is not buying what Daniel is selling. “Nah, it was stupid and made no sense, man. Why would Thomas betray his lover if-” If he is based on me. He almost blurted it out, thankfully cutting himself off before he could do something he would regret. 

Still, Sebastian averts his gaze, bashful. The tension in the air is tangible and Charles, not wired to understand bad vibes, as he calls it, asks him another question. 

“Are you working on something now?” 

Seb looks at Lewis when he lies through his teeth. “No. I think I'm quite done.” 

5.

That's the reason why, three weeks after the party, when Lewis sees a post on his insta feed with Seb's picture and BOOK ALERT in big red letters, he clicks on it. He is doubtful at first, but then it turns out that, yes, Sebastian really published a new book during the winter break. It is a poetry experiment, explains Seb himself in the interview Lewis reads through. 

Unexplainably, his hands shake as he tries to google a page where he can buy the poetry collection. When he finally finds it, he curses. Seb wrote a poetry book in fucking German. 

He has no shame and immediately calls him to ask about the translation. 

“No, I do not think it will get translated.” Seb is wary. “Why?” 

“I would like to read it, that's all.” 

Seb snorts, can't help himself. Why would you want to read it if you hate my writing so much.

“Well,” he says instead. “I've told you a long time ago German could be useful.” 

Lewis pays big bucks to the publishing house to make the translation happen in the shortest time possible. He makes sure Sebastian has no idea he is the one who pushes for the English translation and pays off everyone, so it stays that way. 

Out of all places, they are in the aeroplane when it all falls apart. 

Sebastian is returning from the bathroom when he notices what Lewis is holding. 

“Jesus, don't read that around me.”

“Why?” Lewis asks. “You don't have to be weird about it. It's great.” Lewis wouldn't say he is a poetry guy by any means. But there is something about Sebastian's words that curl off pages, sticking like caramel and breezing through his chest like a breath of fresh air. Sebastian's poetry is shockingly emotional, exposing his feelings with a sort of bravery Lewis has never felt. Most of them are reflections, sweet or poignant. Lewis can clearly see the inspiration from the Swiss nature, and the relationship with his family. It's beautiful. 

Yet the ones that cut through his heart like a burning knife are the heartbreaking stanzas of unrequited love. And even though Seb states that not all poems are inspired by a personal experience in the prologue, Lewis knows poems like these cannot be fabricated. The one he's stuck on at the moment, Absolution, makes Lewis a bit dizzy. 

In the seat across from him, Sebastian shrugs. “If you say so.” 

“I mean, these love poems, man. They must have broken your heart. How come you've never told me?” 

The pronouns sit awkwardly on his tongue, and he watches Seb squirm a bit. 

“It did not feel like there was something to talk about. It would - I don't think it could ever work between-” he pauses, hauling a slow breath through his nose. He rubs his eyes with his right hand like always when he is agitated. He also forgets to use the eyedrops for his dry eyes;  Lewis usually has to remind him. “Between him and me, I guess. I could never be the one for him.” He trips over his words.

Lewis blinks, feeling all turned out. He tries to process the words that feel too much like a confession to him. 

“I doubt that, Seb.” He says earnestly. “I doubt anyone would find you anything but-” Perfect. 

Sebastian interrupts him, a painful grimace on his face. “Just - just stop.” Suddenly, he looks exhausted and resigned all at once. “You must know, Lewis.” 

Seb is not looking at him and misses the look of utter shock on his  face. “Me?” Lewis feels like there is cotton in the back of his mouth. “But- But I-” 

“You what?” snaps Sebastian, his face closed off now. He managed to build his walls high enough that it took more than a little love confession to make them crumble. 

Lewis' head spins. There is just no way, no way that Sebastian could wax poetic about him. It's hard to breathe, and his face turns splotchy red. 

“But you've never told me. Or reacted when I tried -” 

“Oh, trust me, Lewis, I would have noticed if you had tried.” 

“Sebastian.” he says, his voice breaking with the possibilities flashing through his mind. Sebastian is brave and he can be, too. “I have loved you for years.” 

Now it's Seb's turn to look shocked. “But- You always-” he stutters, unable to finish. 

“Come here,” Lewis beacons him over and Seb sits down next to him without hesitation. Lewis leans in and caresses Seb's cheek with his right hand. “You are very silly,” he presses their lips together and the feeling of Seb relaxing completely under him makes Lewis' fingers tingly. 

+1 

“Hurry up!” Sebastian is wearing an atrocious old flannel shirt. Lewis swears he has put it in the 'donate' cabinet twice already, yet it always finds its way back. 

He walks to the table where Seb sits, a big red box in front of him. “Open it,” he instructs and Lewis opens the lid. 

“I wanted you to be the first to hold it.” 

Lewis takes out the brand-new book in awe. When he opens it, the pages smell so good he closes his eyes for a second. He flips the pages until he finds what he is looking for. The dedication says: 

Love, I've seen it all. I've seen the sunrises in Africa, the sunsets in Asia. The sun shining on the Mediterranean, the snow melting in the Alps. I've seen fireworks meant just for me, the beauty of the never-ending road. Seeing you smile beats them all. 

For Lewis.

[the-wip-project]

SloMo WriNo: Q & A

A few questions about how the SloMo WriNo challenge have come in, so here's the answers to a few of the easy ones. (Don't worry, more complicated questions will be getting their own posts!)

When does it start? The official start date is November 1st.

However this challenge is about you finding your own long term writing rhythm. So if there’s some reason why you can’t begin for a week, a month, or even until next year, that’s fine. Feel free to jump in at any time, and even if you feel like you can’t ‘officially’ start your novel just yet, perhaps you can still begin trying out writing in a SloMo way. You may find yourself easing into things anyway!

Is this plan/event supposed to be just for novels?

Definitely not! I’ve had one person express their intention to write a series of novellas, another to do a second draft, and others plan on writing fanfiction. It’s for whatever you want to write but have been struggling with.

Do those min/max brackets apply for everything one would write in the year? Ideally yes! At least when it comes to writing you’re doing for your own self. (Writing for work and school obviously need to get done at whatever pace you’re required to do them!) The goal here is to establish writing as a long term sustainable habit. Now as time goes on you will probably want to tweak your minimum and maximum word counts, as you get more familiar with your own process. Please go ahead and do that, and then keep on writing within that adjusted ideal zone.

I’m kinda burned out. Should I even try to attempt this? That’s a tough one, and really something you need to answer for yourself based on your current situation and emotional state. If you do decide to attempt the challenge, I recommend keeping your goal word counts (at least initally) at a level that feels ‘too easy’ and taking at least two days each week off writing. If it starts feeling like too much, dial it back even further, or take some time off. This challenge will be going on all year, so you can hop in and out whenever you need to. No guilt needed!

Who are you and why are you claiming to be an expert on this stuff anyway? Actually no one has been so mean as to say that, but there’s been a little confusion about who I am and why I’m posting here. My name is Maree, and Barbex (the one who actually runs this blog) was kind enough to help me out with this challenge and let me post on the WIP blog and the WIP discord. (you can find my own blog at mareebrittenford.)

I completed my first novel in 2015, and since then I’ve written 8 novels, as well as assorted shorter stories and a few (okay maybe more than a few) fanfics. I have managed to publish 4 of the novels and a few short stories have made their way into magazines and anthologies. Now I don’t claim to be a great writer, but the one thing I’m confident of is that I’ve become very good at is Finishing My Stuff. (And finishing stuff with ADHD is a very special skill!)

I created this challenge to share all my tips and tricks, and hopefully help other people also Finish Their Stuff.

If you have any other questions about the challenge (or for me personally) you can reblog with comments, send an ask, or hop onto the WIP discord

[baldurspeen69420]

I know no one is following this blog for my non-BG3 related posts I keep yelling out into the void lately for some reason. I guess since I have some amount of followers now and the games been out for a while I'm increasingly finding myself wanting to put more of myself out into the open. To who I'm not really sure, though. I never tag these things much or expect many notes. Maybe I should have some sort of main blog I use instead at this point, but maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe I should stop making these kinds of posts entirely but I can't seem to resist the temptation.

I keep thinking about myself as a kid and the things I wanted to achieve. I really wanted to be an author, and sometimes I still talk about writing and pretend I'm a writer even though I've hardly made anything substantial in well over a year. I have written a book, fun fact. It's really bad but it is written. Published, no. To this day it's sitting on a poorly backed-up Word doc in my PC. I'm probably not going to go back to it and I think that's okay (maybe?). My girlfriend keeps asking to see it since I've left it to the dust but somehow I can't bring myself to send it over. Sometimes I open the document and scroll through a bit and close it again.

It's easier to reblog gifsets and other people's work than make anything of my own, I guess. But I never feel like the things I make are technically skilled enough to count or are lacking some kind of fundamental spirit of truth or whatever. Or both at once, usually. I get disheartened thinking I can practice my prose into the ground for decades and come out a more skilled writer in one sense but still have nothing meaningful to say or fail to communicate it at the very least. I don't even know why I think my work /has/ to say something, I enjoy a lot of dumb stuff that isn't really about anything in particular, but I feel restless nevertheless about it.

Sometimes I think I'd like to go to a mountaintop somewhere with no internet for six months and just force myself to sit and think and reflect but in actuality I know I'd probably spend all my time kicking rocks and eating wheat thins and leave with maybe two pages of solid work and a billion of things left unwritten. Time continues to go by, it's getting colder lately. Next year will be the same thing but a little different. And I'll say to myself, "I should write again". And then I'll log back in to YouTube and watch a four hour video essay about some people I don't know, probably.

[erythromanc3r]

Annual writing self-evaluation

I was tagged by @pipergirl17 (and I'm so glad she did - thank you, friend!)

1. List of works published this year (in no particular order):

Better Living Through Chemistry

Among the Willows

It ain't fiction, just a natural fact

kiss me where you bruise me

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

I'm proud of all my children but I'm most proud of myself for writing Among the Willows because it really did start as just vibes and it ended up being a lovely little vignette of a moment in time that I put a lot of research and love into. Honorable mention to Better Living Through Chemistry because it was my first PWP and I personally thought it was a unique and fun take on sex pollen.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

[buzzer noise] I am proud of ALL my children!!!!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

I loved this exchange at the tail-end of kiss me where you bruise me because it was a good exercise in writing some post-coital awkwardness between two people who don't know each other all that well while still acknowledging that there's the potential for something more there. And I needed Eddie to take any opportunity to be a little softer and sillier bc he desperately wants Chrissy to not see him as mean and scary!

“I’m…good,” he says, throwing his palms up and flattening his lips into a tight, awkward smile. He’s looking for his right sock — she knows it’s on the other side of the mattress. Chrissy doesn’t know if it’s rude or not to grab it, worried Eddie might think she’s pushing him out when she’s not quite sure where she’d prefer he be. The red light of the alarm clock on the bedside table burns a bright 1:37 into the dark when she asks another question, maybe just to cut through the awkward silence. “Are you okay to drive home? It’s late.” (Where is home for Eddie Munson, anyway?) He smiles to himself a little before he answers her. “Nah. I’m a bit of a nocturnal creature, actually.” He throws two hands up, fingers curled out like he’s doing a vampire pose during a game of charades. “Still got a couple hours left in me.”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

I'm a big fan of the incoherent flailing but I also really love when people engage with the details of the fic and tell me something they really loved about a particular line or description! I just love and appreciate getting comments in general!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

November. Something about that month just zapped the energy out of me. This seemed to be a hard time for a lot of us for one reason or another…I propose we move NaNoWriMo to like…March or June or something because November is NOT it.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I gained a lot of confidence. I stopped obsessing over every line being perfect because I would rather have a finished product that others can enjoy instead of a gorgeous, perfect wip that no one else can read. And now that I’m not chasing validation (both internal and external) the process is way less stressful!

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I want to be more consistent! I want to explore more outlining methods, write more productively…and I want to be a beacon for other writers who are new to the process because the community aspect is so important.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@staceymcgillicuddy is a rockstar of a writer whose work ethic amazes me. @pipergirl17 my angel in the comments your work is gorgeous and you’re so kind. Extra special shoutout to everyone who writes fearlessly and freakishly because we’re all better for it. And everyone who encourages writers to keep going!

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

Wouldn’t you like to know? Ummm honestly though nothing super personal but it ain’t fiction came to me over nights of sitting on my couch watching old metal videos on MTV classic and wishing those two kids made it out of Indiana and got a shot at their dreams.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

The time will pass! Writing is vulnerable and embarrassing but I am more embarrassed by the years I spent not pursuing this hobby and letting all those ideas never leave my brain than by ANYTHING I’ve published.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I want to prioritize finishing all my multichapter wips…but I also want to explore more historical AUs.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

(But only if you want to 👉👈)

@justhere4thevibez, @toodivineforhumanmind, @0nemorestranger

[adhd-merlin]

I love exploring new ships bc it gives me more perspectives on the characters and I get to see how different kinds of love change them as a person. So.

all this to say do you have any good starter recs for merwenthur 🙏✨

Hey :) I've only been in the fandom a few months and I mean it when I say I haven't read much Merlin fanfic (I've spent way more time here on tumblr than on AO3).

But since you asked me, personally my recommendation for a starter Merwenthur fic would be Choose and Choose and Choose by fleete.

I think it's the fic that got me actually interested in this ship in the first place, and also probably the only longish Merwenthur fic I've read (though it's only about 11k word).

You might have read it already, because it's the one Merwenthur fic I keep recommending – in which case you can skip the next few paragraphs (sorry). But I'll put another couple of links at the end if you want to check out more stuff.

fleete's fic is about the three of them getting together, and the "triggering event" is Gwen jokingly confessing to Arthur how she kissed Merlin after he almost died from drinking poison that one time. And Arthur has... an interesting reaction to that revelation.

You know when you read a fic and it just makes something click for you? This fic did so for me, and it just happens to tick many of my boxes in terms of tropes, too.

I love the characterisation; the three of them didn't feel too OOC even when they were doing things they never would in canon.

I liked the slight awkwardness around sex of Arthur and Gwen, because they're medieval 20-somethings who only recently lost their virginity to each other, and I found it realistic and also kind of endearing. I liked the tenderness and the vulnerability of it.

I liked the dynamic of the whole triad, but especially between Gwen and Merlin because in this fic it feels like their S1 friendship again and it's clear that they care about each other a lot, and in some Merwenthur I've read their relationship feels a bit like an afterthought at times, coming second to Merlin’s relationship with Arthur, or Arthur’s with Gwen.

I don't know, I guess The Vibe in this story just felt right to me, and I loved it to bits.

A lil excerpt:

Before this, Merlin was a comfortable presence at Arthur’s side. He was like Arthur’s right arm. Or maybe, more precisely, like one of Arthur’s old battle wounds: occasionally annoying, but a familiar part of his body. And now. Merlin seems to have acquired his own body. And a pair of lips. Lips that Gwen kissed. It’s absurd how little time it takes for his mind to spin Gwen’s original, innocent story into something more tawdry. He pictures Gwen sitting in Merlin’s lap, rubbing her thumb under his chin, pushing up until he consents to let his head fall back. Gwen would pull down Merlin’s stupid scarf, admire his Adam’s Apple, feel the beat of his pulse under her fingers, and stroke up and down his throat while Merlin breathed open-mouthed at the ceiling, probably aroused and nervous. Would Merlin be nervous? Arthur thinks so. 

@merlinemrys has also published some Merwenthur fics on AO3, as well as @flight-of-fantasy, who's recently updated their Merwenthur fic. They both might have more to rec.

If you've read or will read fleete's story, I've tried my hand at a sequel, because personally I needed more.

Also!! There's going to be a merwenthur fest soon (!?) so keep your eyes peeled for that 👀

[canirove]

The Nanny Diaries | Chapter 9

Author’s note: First of all, I just want to say thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. Like I said when I published the first chapter, this was something I wasn’t going to post because I wasn’t happy with it, so the fact that so many of you have liked it, is a very welcomed surpise 💜

Also, sorry about it being so short compared to the others I post. I tried to think of ideas to make it a bit longer, but they all seemed repetitive and I didn’t want to force it and ruin it, so it is best to leave with an ending that I am happy with.

Again, thank you very much for reading, and keep an eye on Chilly’s tag or my blog for a little Christmas surprise next week 👀

Previous chapter 

Masterlist

"So you are dating, right?" Alice says while we drive to pick her wedding dress.

"I don't know" I shrug.

"How can you not know? You've been going on dates for a month now, are constantly texting or calling each other, checking how you are feeling and talking for hours, when you are free you go to his house and have sex on his piano..."

"That has never happened and you know it."

"Fine, not on his piano but I'm sure you've done it all over his place already. You are dating."

"We aren't. He hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend, and I haven't asked him to be my boyfriend either."

"Then do it. What are you waiting for? You like him, don't you?"

"I do, yes. A lot."

"Then ask him to be your boyfriend. You can do it at my wedding.”

"What?"

"Take him as your plus one. I want to see him wearing a suit in real life, confirm that it actually is as powerful as you always say" Alice says with a big grin.

"You may want to ran away with him and leave Rose standing at the altar."

"Never. Rose is my one. And by the looks of it, Ben is yours. If you make it official, of course."

"Alice..."

"Ask him to come to the wedding and to be your boyfriend. It's all I ask as my wedding gift."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Isn't getting married on Valentine's Day a bit... Corny?" Ben asks while adjusting his tie.

"They met at a party on Valentine's Day. It's special for them."

"Do we have a special day too?"

"I don't know" I say while I check myself in the mirror, making sure everything is ok. "That's something couples do."

"I thought we were a couple " Ben says, arching an eyebrow.

"Maybe. But not officially."

"What does that mean?" he says, hugging me from behind and resting his head on my shoulder.

"It means that we haven't asked the other to be girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh, that.”

"Yes, that" I say while I turn to look at him, putting my arms around his neck.

"Ladies first."

"What?" I chuckle.

"You ask first, I'll start it for you. Ben, would you do me the immense honor of being..."

"I'm not saying that."

"We are at a wedding, it seems fitting" he shrugs. "C'mon."

"Fine" I say, rolling my eyes. "Benjamin, would you do me the immense honor of being my boyfriend?"

"Yes" he says. "Yes and one million times yes."

"Cheesy” I laugh.

"Only the truth" he says before kissing me. But the kiss doesn't last long, someone knocking on the door and interrupting us.

"I guess that's my cue. My duties as bridesmaid await."

"Urgh.”

“You’ll survive” I say, letting go of him.

"Wait, you lost a bracelet" he says, picking something from the floor.

"Oh, that's the bracelet Alice gave us at her hen do. Apparently, the day it falls it means that your wish has come true."

"Has that happened with yours?"

"It actually has. I have him right in front of me" I say with a big smile.

"I was your wish?"

"Yep.”

“And what did you ask for exactly?” he asks with a smirk.

“Nothing, really. I was just thinking about you and the way you make me feel.”

“Which is?”

“The fact that I just asked you to be my boyfriend should tell you already.”

“But I want to hear you say it” he says, hugging me by the waist and pulling me closer to him.

“Ben, I need to go. Alice will kill me if I don’t show up.”

“C´mon” he pouts, making me want to kiss those gorgeous lips of his.

“Ok, fine” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m falling in love with you.”

“I am also falling in love with you.”

“Really?”

“The fact that I just said yes to being your boyfriend, should tell you already" he says, teasing me.

“Idiot” I chuckle. “And I seriously need to go, or this will be the shortest relationship the world has ever seen.”

“Ok, ok” he says, letting go of me. “But before you go...”

“Ben...”

“You are missing something. This” he says, kissing my cheek, my skin tingling where his lips have been. “See you around, girlfriend.”

“See you around, boyfriend."

But before I leave, I look at him one last time. He also is smiling, though this smile isn't one of his cocky ones. Or a teasing one. This one is different.

This is a sincere and honest smile, a happy one. And the type of smile you give to the person you are in love with. Maybe your one like Alice said? Only time will tell.

━━━━❃━━━━ FIN ━━━━❃━━━━