#giving myself permission to write badly

[foibles-fables]

happy aloy day y'all

this might be Thee Most Unpolished piece of writing I've ever shared, and it's got me a little bit nervy, but. I wanted to get something out for Aloy Day. I'm nowhere near satisfied with it, but I also wanna post about Talisah more than ever, so please enjoy this lil scribble?! Happy April 4th babeeeyyy

It’s not until years and years later that Aloy can be shaken from slumber without snarling and thrashing to defend herself. 

But Aloy survives. She fights, she mourns, she grows. Those years do pass—one and then another, step after step, a blur—like a slow walk that breaks gradually, seamlessly, into a run. Wounds heal where you can see them and where you can’t. Scarred, but always reaching for the light, she lets go, and lets herself begin to flourish.

And today (years and years, they echo behind her), she wakes calmly to a weight scrambling onto the bed and a quick jostle of her shoulder.

It’s past the time when she usually rises. Slowly, she coaxes her eyes open, squinting against the bold Meridian sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. As her vision clears, it settles on another pair of eyes, intent and bright, hovering very close. 

It’s the same amber gaze she’s grown used to waking up beside, reprised on a small face that Aloy knows is half her own—even if most couldn’t tell from a single glance.

Talisah, three years old and bursting with every bit of its energetic willfulness, leans in and speaks a little too loudly for the distance.

“It’s morning, momma.”

Aloy blinks hard and reels back from the near-shout with a soft, surprised laugh. Voice scratchy with oversleep, she says, “So it is, girl.” By habit, she lifts her finger to tap her daughter’s nose—Talisah scrunches her freckle-dusted face into a grin. It’s Talanah’s smile, through and through. “How come you’re waking me?”

She says, “For your birthday,” and Aloy feigns cluelessness. 

“Today’s my birthday?”

Talisah nods eagerly, scooting closer on her knees to crowd against Aloy. “Mama said.”

Aloy shifts to sit upright, pretending to ponder that for a moment. “Well. If mama said that, it must be true.” She gives the girl a big shrug. “I guess it’s my birthday.”

Satisfied with the concession and clearly raring to move on, Talisah retrieves a leaf of parchment from behind her and all but shoves it into Aloy’s face. “Here. Look!”

Once Aloy gets it held at a more suitable distance, the childlike and colorful pigment markings on the page take shape. Vivid blue sky, dazzling yellow sun (of course). A herd of four-legged machines grazes in a field full of sunflowers and the purple-petaled stems they keep in vases around their home. Among them stand four smiling human figures: three large, one small. 

And even though Aloy’s fairly sure she’s understood the concept, she asks anyway.

“This is so nice, Lis. Did you make it for me?” Talisah nods again, beaming. A few pieces of hair fall astray from her messy little tie-up. Aloy tucks them behind her ear. “Will you tell me about it?”

“It’s Grazers,” Talisah explains, nestling easily into the crook of Aloy’s elbow. She has grown so much, but she feels so warm and still fits just right. A crucial part of the new whole. “And us, petting them.” Of course. Putting her hands on any machine is her absolute favorite thing to do, in spite of Talanah’s cautious concern. “See momma, there’s Aunt Milu—” (she points at the tallest, broadest figure, scribbled in green) “—mama—” (long hair, tied back, holding a bow) “—you—” (red braids and a spear) “ —and me.” 

Her own smaller shape is standing closest to the Grazers, connected to Aloy’s at the hand.

And for the umpteenth time in three years, Aloy thinks of how unfathomable and effortless it is to love and to be loved this fiercely. Throat full of embers, she presses a kiss into Talisah’s silky black hair.

“I love this, little one,” she murmurs. “Is it alright if I keep it with me? In one of my pouches?”

“Yeah!” Talisah replies, puffed up with pride, snuggling closer into Aloy’s side. “Don’t rip it, please.”

“You have my word,” Aloy swears. Then, a thought strikes her. She contemplates the drawing again, trying to find what's missing. “Hey, hold on. What about Aunt Beta?”

Without missing a beat, Talisah points to another figure Aloy hadn’t noticed before—sitting a few paces away from the group in the shade of a boulder. “Got sunburn.”

Incredible. Aloy snorts out loud, imagining how Beta’s face will look when she sees it later. “That sounds about right.”

Talisah looks up at Aloy through her long lashes, expression as hopeful as any three-year-old’s could be. “Good birthday, momma?”

Truth be told, Aloy has celebrated very few of them. She’s only known when it actually is for less than a third of her life, and let it be known to others for an even smaller share. It’s always come and gone as a quiet turn of the world—she’s surrounded herself with people who understand why she prefers that, without needing to ask.

But with Talisah, that changed. She reflects her own contagious joy outwards, with no reason not to. A traditional Carja birthday celebration is her only context, and all comparisons are still simple. If for her, why not for everyone else?

And it still feels uncomfortable to acknowledge for Aloy her importance and worth for its own sake—to separate herself from the role she was given, and the ghost whose footsteps she followed. But the years have helped, and maybe it’s never supposed to be completely comfortable to untangle yourself from what’s laid out behind you. Maybe the point is to keep walking on through the rawness of it, and to keep trying.

Aloy looks down at the watchful child in her arms and tries. 

(She makes trying easy.)

“The best,” Aloy says, and means it. She lays a gentle palm on Talisah’s clean-scrubbed cheek. “Do you remember what the Nora do on their birthdays?” Talisah shakes her head, and her brow furrows in reflexive concentration, ready and eager to devour every new bit of information she is offered. “They spend the whole day celebrating their mothers. Would you like that? Giving mama and me gifts on your birthday?”

“Yes,” Talisah answers without hesitation. Then, less than a heartbeat later, with quiet uncertainty: “Would I still get mine?”

Aloy chuckles, rolling her eyes. Talisah’s life is full of safety and an abundance of affection, spoken and unspoken alike. Aloy would accept nothing less. “Of course you would, girl.”

For a moment, Talisah looks assured. Then she gives Aloy another thoughtful frown, a curious glint lighting her gaze.

“What about Elisabet, today?” she asks, sparking a connection between what she knows and the small ways she’s heard that story told. Someday Aloy will tell her the rest. “Your momma.”

It’s a marvel how smart she is. How quickly she cuts to the center of questions Aloy avoids asking herself. 

There’s an ache that comes with it, now. A flare of awareness—an old emptiness that no amount of longing ever could have filled. 

But where some parts linger empty, others run overfull. That, Aloy has learned, can be its own kind of wholeness. Words from long ago, in a voice that sounds like her own, resound gently into the present—into this world of Elisabet’s vision and Aloy’s fulfillment, the only world Talisah has ever known. 

(I would have wanted—her, to be…)

“I think Elisabet would want us to celebrate by going to see some Grazers.”

Talisah almost quivers with abrupt excitement, eyes wide and sparkling. Her hand slips into Aloy’s, gentle and warm. “Can we? Please?”

“We’ll ask mama.” Aloy gives her a reassuring squeeze. “Is she making breakfast? I hope so. I’m hungry.”

“Maize cakes. With honey and peaches.”

“Our favorite.” Aloy smiles and kisses Talisah’s head again. Then she sets the parchment aside and wraps her little daughter into a tight hug. “Thank you for my gift, Lis. I’m going to look at it all the time.” 

(It’s the truth. She will, and she’ll remember this morning.)

Talisah hugs her back, clinging to the soft-worn linen of Aloy’s shirt and burying her face against her chest. “Love you momma.”

Aloy’s heart swells—in that moment, like always, it’s enough to overwhelm every empty space she has ever felt or begun to forget.

“Wherever you go,” she whispers, a promise she’s made every day since Talisah came red-faced and screaming into this new and hopeful world, “I will follow.”

They lie cuddled close and quiet and content in the sunlight until Talanah calls them for breakfast.

Years and years ago, everything came open for this—this is the future that was worth fighting for.

[nordic-language-love]

Sorry for banging on about NaNo instead of posting language stuff but I'm actually enjoying writing again for the first time in years and I could honestly cry of happiness!

[ranger-kellyn]

that art i reblogged earlier of the lady knights is like. EXACTLY. how i wanna draw. the style the lighting the way the shading is done-- bUT i still have no clue how to develop an art style and AAAAAAA

[bemuseing]

the more you worry about your writing the less you write which turns into more worrying about how little you're writing which leads to losing practice. the solution is to go fuck it we ball

[cosette141]

Give yourself permission to write garbage.

This is the best writing advice I have ever received. Ever.

Anytime I either find myself intimidated by writing something or I simply can’t seem to get words moving, I use this. It’s great for the run of the mill perfectionist, as well.

Giving yourself permission to write garbage means letting yourself do something imperfectly. I always use this when I can’t seem to find a place to start, and I set out to write the “worst version” of whatever I’m writing. Not only do I give myself permission to write badly; I ask myself to. Instead of writing something eloquent like “the banisters were carved straight out of Queen Victoria’s past” I’ll write “the banisters were fancy-looking and stuff”. Or rather than coming up with the beautiful world building of the setting, I’ll just start with “they’re outside and it’s pretty” and move on.

Every time I do this, perhaps the first line or two will be a little worse for wear, but as a whole, never comes out “bad”. You’re just giving yourself the opportunity to write a “first coat”, if you will, and then add onto it when you edit later. And often I just need this advice to write the first sentence, and then I’m in the flow again. For me, at least, if I didn’t do this when I needed it, I’d just sit paralyzed at my computer staring at a blinking cursor. I’d rather just type some garbage that I can edit later than have nothing at all.

It’s simple and it’s silly (and sometimes cringe-worthy), but it gets you writing and that’s all that matters.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

NSFW headcanon. How would the Tenjiku guys react to their partner reaching back and spreading themselves open during sex?

Tenjiku x Reader: How They React to You Spreading Yourself Open for Them

♡ NSFW, Fem reader, degradation + praise, pet names, spanking, edging, oral/fem receiving, fingering, breeding kink, reader being manhandled, mean dom!Izana, reader is on all fours if you needed to know that lol ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Mucho, Mochi, Ran, Rindou, Shion, Hanma

note: thanks for requesting anon 🩷 I didn't include Kisaki, Koko, or Sanzu (I just don't consider them to be among the main members of Tenjiku) but if you desperately need them to be included just shoot me an ask (when I open my asks back up) and I'll write one for them

edit: I added Hanma specifically for @katkitkats

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Was confused for a second because he didn't give you permission to touch yourself

🎴 Smacks your hand away and starts degrading you

"Did I tell you that you could touch yourself you little slut?"

🎴 Edges you as a punishment

Kakucho

🩷 Gets flustered and just stares at your pussy for a solid minute

🩷 Takes it as an invitation to get as deep as possible

🩷 Praises you the whole time

"Such a good girl opening yourself up for me, so damn pretty ♡"

Mucho

🔷 Doesn't even give you a chance to spread yourself because he's doing it for you, he's trying to hit every nerve fr

🔷 He damn near has you hitting splits with how far he spreads your legs (this man is actively trying to breed you)

🔷 Despite him manhandling you, he's relatively gentle during sex because he doesn't want to hurt you

"That's it babygirl, you're taking me so good. You deserve to have that pretty pussy filled up~"

Mochi

🍡 He's quick to respond when you spread yourself open for him

🍡 Immediately grabs your hips and flips you over onto your back

🍡 Since you obviously want him so badly, prepare to not be able to walk in the morning

"You should see yourself right now, you look so perfect and vulnerable underneath me angel."

Ran

💜 You've done this before so he isn't surprised

💜 Spanks you with his baton

💜 Teases you about how needy you are

"You're so damn needy doll, presenting yourself like such a whore for me ♡"

Rindou

🩵 As soon as you spread yourself for him, he's leaning in to kiss your pussy

🩵 Eats you out til his face is drenched in your juices and you're overstimulated

🩵 Grips your thighs because he knows your legs are gonna give out on you

"You taste so fucking good princess, just can't stop myself from being greedy~"

Shion

🖤 He's speechless, at an absolute loss for words fr

🖤 You look back at him and he's just staring at your pussy, probably drooling too

🖤 Immediately drops the idea of having sex because he wants to eat you out

"You're so fucking cute, I need to devour you darling."

Hanma

🏵️ Teases you about how needy you are

🏵️ Threatens to punish you by slapping your ass til it's red

🏵️ Flips you over and fingers you even though he knows you want him to fuck you

"Your pussy is so pretty babydoll. I can tell you're aching for me to fuck you, but I don't think you've earned it yet ♡"

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel , @i-literally-cant-with-this , @trevengersprincess , @happy-trenchcoated-impala , @giugiette , @katkitkats

[idiopathicsmile]

maybe a cliche, but the single best thing i ever did for my writing was realize i could give myself permission to write a terrible first draft. the first draft's job is not to be good; it is to exist. that is all it has to do. once it exists, you will probably need to try to make it good, but that is very much step two or three.

i used to literally message a friend and ask permission to just write something shitty. they would say "yeah sure" and then i would fill a few pages with the wrong words, read them, try to analyze why they were the wrong words, and attempt to replace them with the right words. i would do this until i was comfortable showing it to another person, and then i would ask them to point out the places where it was still shitty, and fix it again. the only part of my process that's changed is that now i just give myself the permission instead.

i don't often give writing advice because there is almost no aspect of it that i really feel like i've mastered. i've gotten basically everything wrong at some point, and frankly, odds are real good that i'll do it again. writing for me is a constant cycle of trying stuff, failing, sometimes failing badly, and then working on a fix. if you've ever liked something i've written, what you're enjoying is probably several layers of revision removed from my initial attempt, which was almost certainly much worse.

"write it badly" changed my life.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Pairing: G!P Subby Wanda x SoftDomme Fem!Reader I had the hornyest Subby Wanda thoughts today and it's my first time ever... I totally ruined my writing for the day, but I came up with the below headconons because I couldn't help myself. Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, masturbation, edging, denial, orgasm control, teasing, oral, anal play, use of butt plug, strap-on use, use of a cock cage, breeding kink, handjobs, cock-warming, ruined orgasms, aftercare

You love to cock-warm her for hours, because you know how much it affects her. She goes crazy when she’s inside you, but she’s not allowed to move. She begs so prettily for you to let her fuck you, tears filling her eyes when you deny her advances. She just wants to make you feel so good. She has the biggest breeding kink, always wanting to fill you up and keep her cock inside, so none of it would spill. Sometimes you like to punish her by riding her and pulling away from her throbbing cock just when she starts to cum. She looks so defeated, watching all her cum spill out of her cock and down her shaft, waisted… Ruining it hurts, but it’s the fact that it’s not inside you that really bothers her. She needs so much aftercare on nights like that. You love to put a plug inside her tight hole and pull up her boxers, stroking her cock through them, until she makes a mess. You send her off to work like that, patting her bottom at the door. It gets her hard again and you watch her awkward walk as she gets to the car, giggling as you wave at her. You make her send you pictures of her cock throughout the day, telling her how much you miss her and how badly you want her in your mouth, knowing that it gets her throbbing instantly.   You love to put her on her knees and make her eat you out over and over again. You always encourage her to stroke herself, watching her edge herself, because she’s not allowed to cum until you’re satisfied.   You love to edge her cock so much. She gets so reactive when you do. You love to use your hands, or your mouth, but what affects her the most is when you rub your wet pussy over her length. She always begs to please let her be inside. It’s where she belongs. It doesn’t feel right when she’s not inside you. When you actually do let her be inside, riding her, slowly and sensually, she cums in seconds and it gives you great pleasure to help her ride it out and then climb over her face and make her clean up her mess. When she’s been especially bad, usually touching her desperate cock without permission, you like to put her in a cock cage and watch her strain against it. You make her pretend that she’s fucking you while she’s all locked up, the entire time telling her how she could have been fucking you for real if she had been patient. That usually stops her from touching for a while. When she feels really subby, she loves for you to put on your harness and take her from behind with your strap. You always do it so gently and slowly, caressing her and kissing her all over, telling her what a good girl she is for you. She can come just from this and she has, when you’ve worked her up really well, but you prefer to stroke her through it, wanting her to feel good and to have a really satisfying orgasm. She’s very touchy and she craves closeness, so you always give her so much cuddles during aftercare. The way you smell calms her and makes her feel safe. She has her nose in the crook of your neck whenever she gets a chance. ___________________________________________________ So... Yeah, it's possible that I was a little horny for this today. Hope you enjoyed it. If so, let me know ;)

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day four ⛧ orgasm control

Stu Macher x Reader

You take it upon yourself to get off without Stu's permission, and he punishes you.

warnings: pwp, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, orgasm control, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, withheld orgasm

word count: 697

author's note: welcome to day fourrrrr (: I missed writing for Stu omg it's been a longgg time. I don't think I've written for him in 2 years. if I'm a little rusty with his character I apologize but I do hope everyone enjoys (: thanks for any feedback!!

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

���ᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“Oh, you wanna cum? That’s too bad,” Stu mockingly pouts, a gentle hand mussing through your hair in contrast with the harsh snapping of his hips into yours. 

He grips the hair he has between his fingers, pulling your head to the side to allow his mouth to latch onto your neck underneath your ear. His other hand is freely working on your clit- your arousal spreads along it in a perfect amount to coerce a sickening sound as Stu’s fingers pick up speed. You whimper pitifully as the mixture of Stu’s hand, and his hard cock rubbing against your bundle of nerves with every thrust causes your body to vibrate. You oh so badly want to cum around his cock over and over until you’re absolutely spent- but Stu won’t allow it. You’re being punished, and not getting your release is your punishment. 

“Should’ve waited for me to come home like the good kitten you know you are,” Stu growls in your ear, feeling your walls begin to clench around him.

He quickly pulls out of you and removes his fingers from your puffy clit, his hands completely off you. You move to squeeze your legs together, but Stu forces them apart to ogle at your throbbing, sensitive pussy and how it convulses from lack of touch. Stu repositions himself onto his chest, his face buried between your thighs as his fingers grasp the shaking flesh there. He gives your clit a tentative lick and slips two fingers inside your heat, curling them immediately. Your spine curves upward, your body reacting to the sudden stimulation. Your hand grips Stu’s wrist like a vice, and you start to cry as his fingers curl and fuck into you.

“Please let me cum, baby, I won’t touch myself without you again, I swear-”

“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” Stu tuts, nipping your clit with his teeth with an insatiable grin. 

Adding a third finger, Stu gains a steady pace of circling your exposed pussy with his warm tongue and long fingers, bringing you to the edge of orgasm three more times. At this point, you’re nearly sobbing, incoherent words falling from your lips as your hips stutter messily. “Please, please, please.” has become a mantra.

“Does this sweet kitten wanna cum? Hmm?” Stu purrs into your thigh, and you nod vigorously, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Stu removes himself from you, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips into the air, slamming his length inside you. He hits your spot perfectly, causing your body to start quaking in pleasure.

“Let go, baby. And don’t stop until I say so,” Stu growls in your ear, his hands spreading your ass apart to get a better view of you from behind.

Stu curves his cock into your cervix, sending your core reeling and your orgasm washing over you at last. It’s so strong that it sends you into another orgasm seconds after as Stu slaps your clit harshly. He’s relentless when it comes to rubbing you- he knows just how to do it right without it hurting or feeling useless. So he continues to press circles into your clit with his deft fingertips until you cum again and again around his length. 

“Don’t stop cumming until I say so,” Stu groans, his cock rehardening from your desperate clenching around him as he begins pushing into you again.

Your body trembles as Stu fucks you again, your overstimulated cunt hot and wet around him. He wraps a hand around your throat, your pitiful moans vibrating against his palm. You weakly buck your hips against his, “Just like that, one last time,” he praises.

Stu moans hotly into your ear as he releases, and you cum again before nearly blacking out, feeling limp underneath Stu’s grip.

“You good, baby?” Stu asks as you sink down underneath him into the mattress.

You nod tiredly, and he gently pulls out of you, rubbing a hand down your back soothingly.

“You did good, doll,” Stu curls up behind you, his arms wrapped around you softly.

You sigh, nestling your face into the sheets as you finally give in to your body’s exhaustion.

taglist:

@axen-gers @im-a-slut-for-this-man2 @spatterpus @nicepeony @teleiophiliac @leilani788 @chiimiki @cillsmurphs @radiant-whore @18lkpeters @vampyrgoff @roryculkinsbf @marlboropremiumblack @savagemickey03 @faelvz @yongi-lee @loomiswhore @laylasbunbunny @faebirdie @ins0mniac-whack @mypoisonedvine @berlyrecords @scribbuluswrites @vampireluck @kelloggs @whiispii @generalvoidthing @mg-i-have-issues @banshailey @ilikefictionalmen @sweatymuffinweasellamp @pheonist @your-platonic-gay-lover @jessica987 @justafangirl @amanda08319 @works-of-fanfiction @topperscumslut @cranesbathtowel @butlersluvbot @nela-cutie @straykids-gives-me-life @ineedmyaccountback @itsbebeyyy @blankbedroom @purejasmine @mrsbutler99

(if you signed up to be on the taglist and do not see your name, your tag failed or you may have typed the wrong url.)

[chekhovs-tantrum]

This is a post for the wonderful @adhdanalogbrain! Thank you for compiling and creating a tool that has saved my ass a hundred times over.

I often find myself navigating to the section on procrastination, and wanted to expand on it and add a few extra tricks that have worked for me or for clients in recent memory. Sharing my expanded version in the hope this helps someone else!

(1-12). I am procrastinating and want to stop

Stop and take a moment to figure out why you’re procrastinating: what you’re expecting the task will be like, or what negative association you have with it. 

If the task is overwhelming/too big/don’t know where to start: 

Split the task into smaller tasks until each task seems less overwhelming 

List the first 5 tiniest steps/tasks that need done, and write them down (ie “get out notebook, open up video for class, begin taking notes”) . When you finish you get to cross them off the list. 

Give yourself permission not to get the whole thing done in one sitting. Trust that you can come back to it.

Set a timer, only work on it for 3-5 minutes and promise yourself you can stop after that. (you don’t have to get it all done at once!)  

Call a friend to talk through the task and help plan

If the task seems boring/tedious: 

Find a way to make it more interesting (body double, go to a more interesting location, play music, make the task part of your play-pretend)

Find a way to immediately reward yourself when you make progress (like giving self a small treat or crossing it off a list)

“Ground” yourself for a time - clear out your schedule and plan out the time to get a little bit of work done

Use the “lightning in a bottle” technique

Make the task more sensory-friendly (light a candle, put on cozy clothes)

Make it into a game and keep score with yourself

Make a list of the things that excite you about the task, if there are any 

If the task seems scary/too hard/you’re worried about failure:

Go back to skills for regulating anxiety; pick one you can do while you do the task

Give yourself permission to do it badly and fix it later

Find humor in doing the task badly

Check your catastrophizing: what's the worst thing that happens if you totally blow this?

Ask for help from friends, teachers, etc

Remember to cheerlead yourself

Sending love to my fellow adhd-ers, and would love to hear about any strategies others have found helpful!

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Restless Night

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: An impulsive phone call leads to a happy ending

Word Count: 1307

Warnings: Slight angst, smut, pet names, little to no (y/n), mentions of missions, lemme know if i missed anything  

A/N: MCU!Peter - I do plan to write something for TASM!Peter in the future but this was just easier for my brain to set up the scene. I wanted to do something different and challenged myself to write something that was more dialogue-heavy than I’ve written in a while. Not my best work, but a little smutty smut bc why not

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

The soft sound of the television playing a forgotten movie almost drowned out the sound of the phone ringing, tucked under a pillow and muffled. The sweet cusp of sleep was only moments away, being dragged out by the vibrating as the first call ended and a second came through. 

The near unconsciousness caused forethought to be left behind, grabbing the phone, answering the call, and putting it to your ear. A soft "hello?" was all you could muster. 

"Hey, baby."

A tsunami of emotions flooded through your body, suddenly wide awake and hyper aware of everything that was going on; The television was nearing the end of the movie you had put on, your clock reading 1:32, the lights from the cars passing by casting various dancing shadows around your room.  

"I've missed you, baby." 

His voice was sweet, almost addictive and something you hadn't realized was a need buried deep inside you. You shuffled, forcing yourself up and sitting against the squishmallow he'd won for you on your first time, something you hadn't been able to get rid of. 

"Hi, Peter," you voice was quiet, sleep still etched between the syllables. There was a beat of silence between the two of you, "Peter, why'd you call? It's been 10 months."

Peter let out a soft sigh, you could hear him shuffling around. "Missing you really bad tonight, love. M' on a mission," there was another sigh, "I almost got hurt, like really hurt. Thankfully Bucky was there. All I could think about was you."

"Peter!" You voice was now much louder, instantly filled with worry, "Don't go and get yourself ki-"

He cut you off, "I wasn't tryna get hurt, baby. We got ambushed. We had just went in there for me to copy some information onto a drive. Ended up being some rogue Hydra agents, a leg of them we didn't even know existed." Peter was rambling and he knew it, he was starting to think the reason he called was a bad one. 

You sighed, body riddled with a million different emotions, "Pete, why'd you call me?"

"I miss you," his words had a slight whine to them, "I wanna touch you so badly, wanna hold you and kiss you."

If he was there you would have undoubtedly melted into him. The breakup was mutual, but difficult nonetheless. Between trying to focus on your career and all of the responsibilities Peter had, it was near impossible to maintain a relationship - there was no time for date nights or dinner, no time to sit and reminisce and talk about the future. For months, the only time spent together was sleeping in the same bed, which was almost always disrupted by some responsibility. 

You two loved each other, loved each other more than yourselves most days. But it had become too taxing and tiring, the constant worrying, near lack of support because attention was needed elsewhere. So, after a long, tearful date night gone wrong, the two of you agreed to break up, maybe try again when there were less things counting on you both. 

Peter regretted it immediately, but he had wanted to give you space, give you time to flourish and not worry about him. He'd asked M.J. and Ned all the time what you had been up to, he would check your Instagram and Snapchat to see the things you were posting and proud of. He did whatever he could to support you from afar. 

But tonight, tonight he dared to be selfish, he needed to be selfish. Deep down he knew it was wrong, calling you up in the middle of the night because the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and all he wanted was to be with you. 

"I miss you too, Pete." Your voice was soft again, it always was in moments like this. Where the intimacy lay just behind every fiber in your body. 

He hummed, starting to get antsy as he continued to try to figure out how to say what he wanted. "Baby, can you do me a favor?"

"What is it, Pete?" You almost hated how quickly you answered, how eager you were. 

"Touch yourself, sweetheart. I wanna hear you touch yourself."

The gasp that left you was audible. Peter was never incredibly bold, never the type to initiate unless you two were definitely alone. Even in those moments, it was always sweet and loving. But this, Peter calling in the middle of the night, a desperate whine to his words and an insane neediness that make his tone demanding. 

“Baby, if you don’t want to, you can just hang up. I won’t be upset with you.” You could hear some ruffling and the sound of metal hitting the floor. “I just miss the pretty sounds you make, miss the way your face scrunches up, miss the feeling of your skin against mine.”

This wasn’t a command you were going to disobey. He was still rambling, your mind only half paying attention to the honey-like words he was saying. “Do you want me to use my hand or one of my toys?”

He paused for a moment and you could practically hear the smile spread across his lips. “Use your hand, sweetheart. Run you hands across your body like I would.”

You could hear the moment Peter wrapped his hand around himself, a small groan leaving his lips. You listened to him, it being nearly impossible not to. "Wish you were here, Petey," the words slipped out of you as your fingers danced across your skin, sending goosebumps in their wake. 

Your eyes were pinched shut, listening to every whimper and sigh the came through your phone, doing your best to pretend your own touch was his. "Me too, God, me too. Miss kissing your skin, hearing your little gasps when I nip."

"Peter," you couldn't help but whimper, forgoing anymore teasing and quickly giving your clit the much needed attention. It never took long with Peter for you to become needy and impatient, let alone when it had been almost a year since you heard the noises he was making, "I'm not gonna last long, want you so badly," your words were gasped out between soft moans, instant pleasure radiating from your core already making your body warm.

"Me neither, baby," there was a low groan that slipped from him, strangled as he attempted to hold himself together. With every sound you made, he nearly felt like he was in a dream. But he knew this was real, his subconscious hyper aware of the thin walls in the shitty hotel he was holed up in for the night and the super soldier who undoubtedly could hear him. 

A endless stream of "fuck"s, gasps, moans, and whimpers flooded through each phone. It only took a few more minutes before the coil burst and the warmth of your high shook through your body, thighs quaking and chest heaving. Peter followed suit, a breathy moan of your name as he spilled into his hand and all over his abdomen. 

There was a lingering silence as the  other of you recovered, both taking in what has just happened while relishing in the aftermath. Peter broke the silence first, "Need to get m'self cleaned up," he mumbled. There was another beat of silence from him, "I do really miss you."

You hummed your agreement, shifting yourself into a more comfortable position. "I do really wish you were here." 

He huffed out a small laugh, a sound that was laced with relief and contentedness. "I'll be home tomorrow at 4. I still got my key, I'll bring dinner, and we can talk. How does that sound?"

Now it was your turn to laugh, excitement filling every nerve in your body. "It sounds like a date."

[adastra-sf]

Keep going

...even when the draft feels bad. That just means you've refined your eye for what makes "good" writing. You can always edit later!

Terrible secret: There's a really awkward thing that happens to all writers (and other artists/creatives/makers). They get good enough that it becomes hard to write anything. As your skill increases, so do your standards. So everything you write feels mediocre.

The weird part is that this "mediocre" writing is far better than what you were writing before. You have just moved the goalposts on yourself as you improved. So you have to learn to give yourself permission to write anything. Even if you think it's bad.

What usually happens at that point is that you either:

A) end up not writing badly at all and surprising yourself with what you manage to produce, or

B) create something that has issues but is easily editable later on into something that meets your standards.

But wow, is it a gnarly adjustment to ignore that emotional reflex of "this sucks, I suck" and press on anyway.

I do find myself frequently wondering how many writers reach this awkward phase, believe wrongly that they suck, and never write again - just at the point when they're starting to get good! I'd imagine A LOT of them.

And no, this doesn't just happen with writing. It happens with every kind of artist and craftsperson. People tend to quit just as they're getting good, because their standards have raised along with their skills.

You've got this.

source tweet thread: X

[featherquillpen]

Hello! I just wanted to ask: is Daemorphing finished? I love that series so much!

That's a very good question!

My intention has been to write an epilogue to the series, tying up loose threads and showing the state of the world at the end. However, all my attempts to write such an epilogue have failed. I have a graveyard of abandoned epilogue drafts on my computer. It's like I have a mental block.

I suspect the source of the mental block is that Daemorphing is so epic and has been so important to my life that my brain doesn't want to like... admit it's over? And so if I can never write the epilogue, then I don't have to admit it's over.

One thing I can say for sure: all the major plot developments of the series are over. The epilogue is just about the way the world works now, and little emotional codas of people moving on with their lives in various directions. I wish I could reassure you that I will definitely get to the epilogue soon, but I'm not sure I ever will, given how badly I'm blocked about it! If it's any consolation, here is an excerpt from one of my languishing epilogue drafts:

Eva and Cassie stood at the edge of the Sky Hive Nirx Pool, once called the Hett Simplat Pool, and stared at each other. Mercurio stood in front of a device with a screen that stood on a flexible arm emerging from the dark waters of the Pool, as if to block the screen from view. Quincy flew over the Pool near the edge, seeking the presence of a Yeerk he could not sense.

Finally, Cassie said, “Aftran wouldn’t want us to fight over this. Let’s just use the interface.”

Eva exhaled slowly through her nose. “I’ve used it before. But with her, it just feels so… impersonal.”

Mercurio sighed. “Look at us, fighting to have our privacy violated. It’s honestly sad.” He stepped aside to give them access to the interface. Eva reached out and woke the screen with a touch. It cycled through multiple languages, both spoken and displayed on the screen, asking her to choose her language and sensorium.

“English, audiovisual,” Eva said.

Quincy returned to Cassie’s shoulder. “It feels like I should be able to find her myself. But I can’t.”

“Summons,” Cassie said. “Aftran 942. Visitors: Cassie and Quincy. Eva and Mercurio.”

“Summons sent.”

The Pool interface had been invented by the Yeerks of Sky Hive. They had collaborated with the Taxxons for their technical expertise. Cassie and Eva had arranged a donation of materials, as there was not yet any mechanism in place for humans to trade formally with aliens—the negotiations were ongoing.

A hologram appeared in the air before the interface. To Cassie and Eva, she looked like any other Yeerk, and anyway sight was not how Yeerks recognized each other either. But seeing her was for them a comfort.

“Cassie, Eva,” Aftran said, or rather keyed into a Pool terminal, which converted it to sound. “Thank you for coming in person.”

“Would you rather infest one of us?” Cassie said. “This feels…”

“I know I have your permission,” Aftran said, “but now that there’s a real alternative, I don’t want to do that to you anymore. I am humbled by your trust, but I’ve been inside both of your heads, and I have seen for myself that my presence in your minds is hard on you.”

Cassie wanted to protest that it wasn’t. Aftran couldn’t violate her privacy anymore, even if she tried. “But how many times,” Quincy said in her ear, “did we agree infestation was the least worst option?”

“What does the interface show you about us?” Eva said, examining the hologram.

“I can’t naturally detect electric charges through air,” Aftran said, “but the interface can. It converts the impression of your negative charges through air into a waterborne rendition. As if you were floating in the Pool with me as electric ghosts.”

“It’s kind of like that up here too,” Cassie said.

[fozmeadows]

hey. i think i'm going through a phase of self-hatred and… I don't know, of believing I'm not capable of anything. would you have any tips or books that approach this from an AFAB/trans perspective so I can cope? (it's not that I hate myself for being trans. I just have insecurities, anxieties and I don't know what to do to stop most things from seeming so discouraging, for lack of a better word.)

I'm sorry you're having a hard time! I don't have any book recommendations, and I'm not exactly an expert, but:

Where possible, try to focus on what you enjoy about the process of an action instead of worrying about the end result. A lot of anxiety comes from privileging a hypothetical future version of yourself ahead of the person you are in the moment, and while it's still good to have goals and aspirations for the future, that doesn't render your present self irrelevant, because that's who you have to be to achieve them.

To give a personal example: late last year, I was really disappointed with how little reading I'd managed to get done in 2023 particularly, but also over the pandemic. I'd bought all these awesome books that I really wanted to read, but I never seemed to get around to starting most of them, and meanwhile, I was spending hours of my life mindlessly doomscrolling Twitter and TikTok, which regardless of anything else is a really good way to depress yourself about the state of the world. So I sat down and thought about it, and I realized that the problem was how much pressure I was putting on myself about reading. I wanted so badly to finish books that I was psyching myself out of starting them in the first place, because each choice had to be Perfect, lest I pick the wrong book at the wrong time and waste twenty minutes or an hour or three reading something I might later set aside. And because I'd subconsciously set the stakes for starting a book so much higher than they needed to be, I'd end up dithering and scrolling social media to delay having to make a high-pressure choice at all.

In other words: I'd become so concerned about Future Foz's hypothetical dislike of a book I was yet to start reading that Present Foz would be scared to start it in the first place. I was forever privileging a version of myself that didn't exist and likely never would over the person I was now, and it was making me wildly unhappy, because it felt like I was failing at something I loved.

So my single New Years' Resolution became: to value myself and my time in the moment. If I catch myself scrolling for too long, I ask myself: is there literally anything else I'd rather be doing right now? Could I start a TV show, or a book, or a game, or write something, or message a friend, or have a bath? It doesn't matter if the activity goes anywhere long term; what matters is that I inevitably get more pleasure out of doing something than not. My time now matters, because I matter.

And suddenly, just from that one change? For the first time in I couldn't even say how long, I've read something every single day this year. In the whole of 2023, I read just 67 books; it's now the 30th of March 2024, and I've already finished 33. By giving myself permission to start things without the pressure to finish them, I'm suddenly finishing way more than when I was telling myself I had to finish everything, and I am vastly happier for it.

Is the world still a burning hellscape that daily makes me want to yeet a solid 80% of elected politicians globally into the sun? Yes. Am I still working on self-improvement in other areas of my life? Yes. Is it magically any easier being trans and queer in the current moment? No. But it helps to focus on who I am now, in this hour, in this minute, instead of worrying so much about whether some future version of me will think I spent this time badly that I don't use it for anything at all.

I don't know if this is helpful to your situation, and if it's not, I apologize for rambling. But it's a little change I've made lately that's helped me a lot, and I hope it might help you, too.

[anikasheep]

YOUR CATLIKE SHEEP wants your attention The Almighty Three (Lucifer/Diavolo/Solomon)

warnings: mc as your name, fluffy and kissing, don't like don't read

REBLOG AND LEAVE COMMENTS ARE WELCOME!!

COMMON

Today you decide to be alone with him! With your homework, the book you want to read, headphones, charging cable, and DDD, you ask for his permission and enter his room.

Time passes slowly as you write, finish your homework, and read the books you want to read, today’s Devildom is a bit boring, then you look at him on the other desk with a frown on your face.

He doesn’t realize you're looking at him, or even if he does, he doesn't care. He continues to be immersed in the paper in front of him and in his own inner world.

However, you are too bored, so you pick up your headphones and DDD, and come to his seat…

Lucifer

“Lucifer.” You whisper his name.

He gives you a confused glance. The moment he saw you, those irritations and unpleasing seemed to melt. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and his eyebrows didn’t knit together anymore.

“Hmh? What’s wrong, MC? Do you need something?”

You shake your head, and point at his lap.

“Could I lay on your lap, please? I want to be close to you.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows, and then he slowly nods his head.

“I didn’t expect that you’re that bold, but I don’t have any intention or reason to say no, am I?”

He pats his left thigh, his voice is low and full of seducing and musing.

“Now come here, if my sheep want some attention, who am I to say no to them?”

Be careful, MC. You would get his hand without gloves to keep stroking your hair from time to time.

Lucifer might ask about your opinions so you’re actually the one who needs to pay attention.

He would hum some melody only you two could hear, and those melodies might lull you to sleep.

If you fall asleep, his coat will shelter you, this would make him feel like you’re under his wings, and there’s nothing that would make him feel more satisfied.

Maybe his other brothers would try to sneak into his room, but he’s set a whole spell already so that wouldn’t be that easy. He won’t let his brothers interrupt his time with his sweet little lamb.

Diavolo

He raised his head up before you called his name. The tired smile almost paused you to ask the request you’ve had for a while.

“Aaahh, MC. Can I do anything for you?”

You nod and point at his lap, while you ask him the favor.

“Can I… accompany you like this? I’m too bored and kind of miss you.”

You are both shocked by your blurry, you swear that you saw Diavolo’s pupils turn thinner for a moment but return to normal after you blink your eyes.

He shows you his hearty laugh once again, and then he leans his back onto the back of the chair.

You shift your feet to the other one when he just smiles.

But you feel yourself pulled to a warm and firm chest in the next moment.

The vibrations of his chuckles send to your heart and spread to the whole body.

“My my, look who I’ve found myself. A pure and totally innocent sheep who doesn’t know what they just said to A DEMON.”

Diavolo rests his cheek on the crown of your hair, his left arm engulfs your waist, and his thumb starts stroking the delicate skin through your clothes.

“…Lord Diavolo?” You nibble your lips to attract the urge to wiggle out of his grasp and giggle cause of the tickle feelings.

“I won’t let you feel bored, MC. However, I still have some papers that need me right now.”

Diavolo nuzzles his cheek on your head again, he grins when you move to a comfortable position on his lap, your arms around his neck, your plump lips brushing over his jaw making him shrink and growl lowly.

“Tempt me more, MC. The dance would continue until tomorrow… I assure you.”

Solomon

This sorcerer is too focused on his study to notice you, so you sit beside him simply, find the perfect timing, and lay your head on his lap.

His surprised eyes glanced down at your pouty face and chuckled.

“Are you a cat, MC? Need your teacher’s attention that badly?” His teases didn’t stop the blushing on his face.

“I’m not a cat, but I still want your attention. But don’t mind me, just give me a kiss and keep working.”

He mumbles something before he shares a soft kiss with you.

“So bossy, my apprentice is a boss cat is not what I could expect, but I love them anyway.” ”Heard that and I love you too, my not-a-sheep-but-more-like-a-demon teacher.”

“Heehee, oops. But I’m hurt that you call me not a sheep, now let me attack you by kissing you more.”

“Solomon, aren’t you should finish your report.. umph…”

[nekoannie-chan]

Not really dead

Not really dead

Title: Not really dead.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader, Brock Rumlow X Agent of HYDRA!Reader.

Word count: 267 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve thought you died in that mission.

Major Tags: Death of character, implied experiment.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes 3 words Challenge with the prompt:

"But you died!"

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard

It was a dark and stormy night when you and Steve infiltrated. The mission started smoothly, but suddenly, without knowing how, everything turned into chaos.

You came face to face with Rumlow; you started to fight; however, he managed to hurt you badly.

You were very weak when Steve found you; with tears in his eyes, he held you in his arms.

“I'm sorry, Steve,” you said in a barely audible voice before closing your eyes for the last time.

Although he tried to take you with him, he had to leave your body there to escape; his heart was broken with your loss.

What Steve didn't know, however, was that Brock had other plans for you. He took your body to one of HYDRA's bases.

Months later

Steve had another mission with the Avengers; he still couldn't get over your death.

As they moved forward, Steve felt a familiar presence. As he turned the corner, he came face to face with you, wearing the HYDRA uniform.

“But you died!” said Steve, stunned.

Your eyes, now cold and calculating, showed no emotion. Steve couldn't figure out what had happened to you.

Steve's heart broke again, but this time he was determined to save you. He was trying to reason with you, but you attacked him, and as soon as you had the chance, you ran away.

Steve noticed that you had dropped something; it was the necklace he had given you on your last birthday. He promised himself that this time he would not lose you; he would do everything necessary to find you again.