#i also have way too many tabs open on my browser again

[commodorez]

Why Firefox?

Firefox isn't trying to take away my ad blocking software, forcing me to wade through advertisements to traverse the web. I rarely have to stop and put up with ads in my day to day browsing experience. Google has made it very clear that they don't want you to have that power.

I'm very used to a specific UI in my browser, and I'm able to tweak Firefox to my needs. I don't use tabs when I'm at home, and being able to eliminate the tab bar can totally be done with Firefox (I won't elaborate on that here). However, there are many other things I can add to Firefox to improve my experience!

You know how sometimes you want to download an image on a webpage, but you can't right click on it, or it's hidden behind another element? I've got a Firefox tool for that called Right-click boroscope.

Don't want scripts to load in on a page, and cause havoc? Firefox has me covered again with NoScript.

I want to immediately reverse image search something I find regurgitated here on tumblr, in search of the original? There's a TinEye extension for Firefox to do that and save time.

For using tumblr more efficiently, there's XKit Rewritten. In Firefox.

Sick of Youtube's shitty search suggestions, and shorts being pushed? There's a Youtube Search Fixer add-on for Firefox for that.

I've also got the Wayback Machine integrated into Firefox.

The thing is, whatever reasons I enumerate to use Firefox, there are another hundred good reasons that other folks can add to this list no problem.

In some ways, it sucks that I should have to make so many modifications to my web browser to make it suitable for taking control within the modern webscape, but it also says alot that I have the freedom to make those modifications to my browser should I so choose. At work I'm forced to use chrome, and even though I'm only browsing ad-free internal corporate pages to get my job done, I still can't stand that experience.

We should be free to control our web browsing experiences. If a company finds a mantra like "don't be evil" too restrictive, maybe I don't want to help perpetuate their advertising machine (and don't think for a second that chrome isn't part of said machine). The web is supposed to be this free and open place, and it sure as hell isn't helped by browser monoculture. I really don't like the idea of supporting a monopolistic browsing experience that is the sea of chrome clones. Everything else seems to have turned into another chrome.

Fuck that noise.

So I will continue to use Firefox.

[kiefbowl]

you know those anti smoking posters and ads that would show the timeline of what happens to you after you quit smoking starting from like 15 minutes and going into months and then years etc etc? like this:

I have no idea how scientific any of that is, that's just all preamble to give context to my other point: I feel like I can physically feel changes in my brain the longer away from the internet I am. Possibly psychosomatic, I'd be willing to concede that. But I feel like as my current job has left me with little to do but browse the internet all day, my social media and internet usage is way up again, and with that comes weird symptoms I've started to associate with it: brain fog, lack of focus, erratic thoughts, headaches, thought loops, low estimation of my capabilities, lack of trust in my own memory, and weird preoccupation with time and death. Granted, I struggle with depression and anxiety, but paired with increased internet usage I seem even more hyper vigilant at observing my internalization and I become extremely disconnected with my external realities, even so far as wondering "is this real?" That's at the most extreme end, usually I think I have over-all a pretty healthy relationship with the internet, especially due to great practice and awareness over the past few years, but can slide into over-usage pretty quickly. I've felt more aware of these "symptoms" as I've practice things like taking hiatuses (which I recommend) of all different lengths.

This moment in time I feel the most aware of the phenomenon of increased internet usage = symptoms impacting my physical life, maybe due to age or my increased awareness. The other day I realized the thought I was having was just an image looping in my mind like a gif. I was like...am I literally not thinking of anything? But the ability to recognize it stopped it and then I spent the rest of the day away from the computer and my phone and realized my mood was better and I was more present by the end of the day when at the beginning of the day I felt like I couldn't keep a straight thought about anything. I've also realized (in this current past few weeks) I've gotten into a habit of opening too many things on the internet...I'll open a youtube video and as it's loading, open tumblr, and as I'm scrolling realizing I've seen most the posts, so then I open a browser game, but that's boring, so I'm checking my email, and that reminds me of a task I haven't done but when I open another tab I can't remember it already so I'm back at the youtube video....trying to do eight things at once but never really fully committed to any of them. It's freaky to realize you've fallen into this habit when you can spend hours of the day acting like a normal person!

But that's the reason I bring up the cigarette posters is that the effects of "quitting" the internet seem almost immediate. I put my phone in the other room and sit with a book and the first few pages feel excruciating, but if I make myself keep going, 15 minutes later I'm reading like a normal person and yet part of my brain is going "why did you think that this was hard it's just reading so weird so weird so weird" and then 30 minutes later that part of my brain is silent and I'm really reading and it's fine. And I also notice when I leave the house, it takes any activity at all to get lost into being alive again rather than hyper vigilantly observing myself. But so many kids (and adults) joke about not wanting to leave the house. I think for normal and otherwise healthy people, you could easily reverse the effects of anti-social behavior your internet usage is convincing you of by simply "touching grass" (lol), but a lot of people are convinced of some intrinsic truth about themselves because they aren't as critical of their internet usage as other people are, so they don't see the connection between their usage and their life choices. You could literally go for a walk and feel normal again.

I don't really have a conclusion except maybe that the brain is very fascinating, and it's very capable of absorbing so much information at once, that to give it care we need to not overload it. But what I've found to work for me is to not "shut if off" but give it something else to do...a book to read, an art project, an errand to complete. These are thoughts I've been collecting in my mind for years but never felt the need to make a long winded post about, until recently when my circumstances change and that was enough to ramp up my internet usage after a lot of work to be more conscientious about it. I really wrote this off the hip, I just wanted to get some thoughts down.

[sandinthepipes]

Hello fellow dyslexic/adhd/others who would like to enjoy fanfics through their ears, I just spent the entire day testing android apps to find one that doesn’t suck as much.

TL;DR - these two T2S, Audify

I feel like I need to share this because 90% the apps don’t even allow a web page as a source, let alone get past the log in page, and I cant be the only one who doesn’t want to download every single fic.

“Oh, but doesn’t android have a built-in text-to-speech function in the accessibility settings?” I hear you ask. Yes, but it sucks ass very badly. Firstly it only reads in the system language, so it doesn’t really work. Second, you need to highlight all that you want it to read, and seeing that I read a minimum of 15k words in a sitting, I’m not gonna do that.

Also I’m broke, I imagine you are too, but even if I wasn’t I’m not paying for this, if I did I wouldn’t even be supporting a human being, so no.

I’ll immediately break your trust with the first point, but it’s what I’ve been doing until now, and now that I know what the android mobile experience is like, I feel the need to include this. The best solution I’ve had so far (which works wonders, let me tell you) is letting Siri read them on the iPad. It’s only doable when I’m at home and it’s still an apple product, so that’s why I began the research. However the positive points are INCREDIBLE so I’m going to ads it to the list because I said so.

First of all it’s built-in and SO EASY to access, you literally just swipe with two fingers and it stars to read. It reads the punctuation, you might think that’s a given and so did I, but no. A question sounds like a question, an exclamation point does why its supposed to do, short sentences sound what they’re supposed to sound like. In apparently all the apps ever created, you won’t find any of it, just flat, monotone voices with flat little pauses. Overall excellent experience 10/10.

Cons: it’s on apple, I consider apple the same as Disney, I would love to not give them more money so that they can make the market increasingly worse. Every now and then a system update will fuck with the tts function and it will be unusable for a while. Sometimes it doesn’t like the text format on some fics. It’s not portable.

Now that we got that out of the way let us get to the meet.

Speechify - it sucks bad. At least the free version, but seen as it costs almost 10€ a month I’m not even going to consider the premium version. Fuck that. You can’t increase the speed, and as somebody who hasn’t watched a single YouTube video on normal speed since they added the function I can’t do that, too slow, I forgot what we were talking about once we get to the end of the sentence. Also you can only use those weird very robotic voices, and they’re not even that many. Don’t recommend. I felt like I had to include it since it was one of the few who allowed browser navigation and well, it’s speechify. Also you can’t t have saved more than 3 “files” per time. Doesn’t have sleep mode.

Audify - works exactly the same as T2S, but it saves the history and has a bit more customisation for how it reads and what it reads (which you don’t really need for ao3, but if you wanted to read, say, Wikipedia with all the notes and stuff, now you know). Has the sleep mode. - EDIT: the double tap to start reading works slightly better than T2S on websites with weird formatting. But unlike T2S you can only have one tab open

T2S - cute. It works. Again, no emotions, but it reads what it has to, nice voice selections, easy to use. The premium version adds literally nothing, they’re a good app, what they have, they give. Also you can customise the interface colour if you want. Has the sleep mode. - EDIT: this app allows you to have multiple tabs open at the same time, unlike Audify.

That’s all folks. Now go and be free of your reading impediment, or be free in your multitasking, or whatever you want to do. I’m done, I’ve given my datas to all kinds of shady apps, I need to go do damage control

[edwarddominicemilio]

I AM EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE

"The soul which has no fixed purpose in life is lost; to be everywhere, is to be nowhere." - Michel de Montaigne

I watched Everything Everywhere All at Once at a time when I was getting lost in life. Wow, what a terribly apropos film for me to stumble upon - almost as if it was godsent.

I understood how Jobu Topaki felt: to see so many versions of yourself in so many different universes all vying for a life each incarnation of you could have lived.

Right now, I wish I was exercising, I wish I looked my best, I wish I had a car, I wish I was mentally well, I wish I played my classic video games and watched my classic films and read my classic books.

I'm jealous of P who does these things. I'm jealous R who does these things.

All these negative feelings gather in me and I curl up into a ball, never to rise up again.

And my purpose too...I feel lost. Do I want to be a lawyer? Do I want to be a teacher? Do I want to be holistic? Do I want focused skills?

I'm so fucking tired.

Everything Everywhere All At Once is about empathy. Right now, I am just freewriting. My mind is in a state of utter chaos. This is exactly how Evelyn and Jobu felt. I need to understand that people have different universes in their mind too. People have ten million tabs open in the browsers of their brain. All it takes is a little bit of understanding to make sure I am not the reason the other person bursts into flames.

Was it like that when I broke contact with J? Not really, I was just hungry back then. But yeah, I was thinking about so many things. There was Jessup, there was the trauma from the rain, there was my gloomy future of singleness, there was loneliness, there was boredom.

I wish I had the ability to focus. I would have been supremely productive. But then, heh, I would not have been as intellectually astute.

Maybe I have ADHD. I have so many things in my mind. I always address different topics when conversing. I get lost in thought often. I'm impulsive.

What would the other Edward in other universes be doing?

Maybe one is a scientist. Another one is a doctor. Another one is a teacher. Another one is married to A, another one to J. Another one pursued P with all his might.

I guess the Edward married to J will be my favorite timeline. In another life, I would have loved doing laundry and taxes with her.

But Everything Everywhere All At Once also taught me to be contended with things. Each choice led me here and this is the universe I'm in. I can only look forward to the future of this universe, not in the futures of other universes.

What would my life have been if I stayed in Cebu? I would be hanging out with P often, maybe gotten close to her even more. Now, I'm a figment of her past. I'm not even in J's faintest memory.

This piece is my stream of consciousness. Its lack of direction is a metaphor for my mind. Chaotic. Unhinged. Usually, I make a framework for my write-ups, then I edit them, then I post. Now, fuck it, this is my stream of consciousness.

It's similar to what I do in a journal, I just write and write and write and write some more. Whatever be the content. The problem is there is no intellectual orgasm. There is no finish. No bang, to know when to clap.

That's the struggle with ADHD.

One way ADHD is portrayed in this movie is Evelyn's quest for silence...and her inability to know what to do with it. There are so many tasks I had to forego because I wanted to do them at a place for silence. Needless to say, I haven't found one. Or if I had, I would use the peace to sleep. Wow, that's ADHD with depression.

It took me a several minutes to write this piece. That's because I'm getting distracted by the other tabs open in my browser, by the fact that I'm writing this at the office with other people beside me, by all the other tasks I'm supposed to do etc.

Would the universe change if I did one act different? Prioritized one task over the other? What is the minimum amount of change necessary to produce a discernible difference in my life?

I'm tired, I want to rest.

I want to stop feeling everything everywhere all at once.

[sexdrugsrocknroller]

aight im making a post so i can say im using this shit like an actual diary

right now i have a grandeur of disorganization on my phone (laptop too but thats been a piece of junk since forever, fuck acer), between the basically full storage, mostly from the gallery (as of now i have a grand total of 93k photos. yes, 93 000 photos and videos.) plus my socials are fucked between the excessive saved and liked posts on instagram, same goes for tumblr here and twitter (i dont really use twitter, i only have an account to like and bookmark posts) and the youtube playlists and chronology.

plus my room is all messy with my not enough space for clothes and random papers and shit thrown together on any surface

i decided i dont like that and im changing it.

for the storage, i have already started deleting quite a bit, right now i deleted like 2300 elements but theres a lot more. sad part is that a lot of it is porn, wether drawn or short videos. im not gonna go full monk and delete all of it, though it would be easier, cause some of it i like. not to talk about the amount i already had to transfer on the laptop when i was tired of receiving warnings about the full storage in the last 2 years. i was also thinking of doing a backup of the whatsapp chats on the laptop so i can delete all the data on the phone storage. it would save me like 6 gb but its kinda extreme.

for socials, the solution is the same. tumblr: gradually remove liked posts i dont need to keep saved, and post what ive been keeping to post like i should have. last i checked, i had like 35k liked posts, and again, a lot of it porn. im not sure i want to post porn and erotica on this blog so for now im reblogging it on an alt, hoping it doesnt get deleted again. then ill have to unfollow some of the 4k blogs im following. guess what part of them are?

instagram, im not even going to remove all of the saved posts. its the social i used most to scroll at, i dont have the option to see how many posts i have saved but i dont think it would be an exaggeration to say i have at least a million. yea i know. im just going to get to a certain post i remember saving this summer, once im at that i will probably make another account altogether since i would never be able to clean all of it. i started this on around mid to end january, and as of now im just at mid october. after something like 20 non consecutive hours. yea its bad. it wouldnt be worth it to go past a certain point. better to just make a new one at that time and be more careful there.

youtube, i have the same problem of all social, i open a video just to keep it in the chronology so i can check it later and maybe save it. ive done it far too much. at least youtube is much faster to clean, but again i would never be able to check every single video i have left in the chrono to save at a second moment. thankfully once im done i could just go on settings and choose to do a tabula rasa of it, removing it completely.

twitter is probably also not worth the trouble of sitting thru all the posts i liked as a way of saving them. i probably shouldnt even care about it. this one has the least priority.

saved tabs on the browser? the easiest one by far out of all of it.

my room and the house in general, there isnt any second road, i just have to first remove and throw what i clearly dont need, store away whats left with some degree of order and hope i saved some space, and try to keep clean, plus store things with stricter orders so its cleaner. after my room and things, its time for the rest of the house.

all of this will be slow, gradual, and a major pain in the ass, but it has to be done and i intend to do it.

and all of this doesnt even include having to remake and update my cv and linkedin in preparation for when my contract ends, planning what to do for university between tests and papers and documents needed and all that, and this arguably has higher priority than all of above time and importance wise. but yknow. actually you dont know. even i dont know.

[fullregalia]

bluebirds all day long.

For about seventeen people over about two weeks in mid-May, the phrase “I can get you one” was envy-inspiring. “One” being an invite code to Bluesky. And let’s be real here: solipsism is as solipsism does; a small fraction of extremely online people (see also: “dorks,” “losers,” “grad students,” “erstwhile bloggers”) is not the center of the material world, but it is an intermittently important corner of some worlds and some really important people used to also be extremely online. So here we all were, the last people at the dinner party, trying to figure out how to keep our little corners of the world somewhat intact. 

It’s probably best to take a step back to before the noise about Bluesky went from static to signal and start from what brought me back to this blob, and why it was valuable for me before Twitter took over my life. To put it in relationship speak, Twitter has always been something of a companion these past 12(!) years, but recently I’ve realized it has devolved somewhat into codependency, and meeting a new platform only complicated matters. As in all matters of heartbreak, my love affair with Twitter devolved in two ways: gradually, and then suddenly. 

Gradually, it came to hold a place in my brain, a perma-tab on my browser. If I search the blob, there are 15 results since 2010 for Twitter - and over the years I’ve circled the same themes: grappling with being adjacent to the NYC media circles, grappling with oversharing, grappling with the emotional energy and time I put into this ultimately frivolous and/or inane stuff. I’ve never put anything really real on any of these platforms because I try to live by the rule of thumb that you never type anything on social media that you wouldn’t want to see on the front page of the New York Times. (Believe it or not I actually do try to practice some discretion and delineate between the truly personal and the “this is good for laughs” self-deprecatory personal.) So I grappled with stuff On Here, and like the rest of the other people with too many opinions and not enough self-restraint, I threw all the rest at Twitter.

Back in 2010 when I got my first iPhone I remember “joking” that I’d never be alone again. I was really lonely the year I graduated college. I had friends, but I wanted a partner, someone to check in with throughout the day, and Twitter--in a sad but perhaps not singular to me kind of way--became that company when I didn’t have that person for many years. It was so compelling and so thrilling for so long, millions of people just posting id on main! My cousin once tweeted something about Shakespeare not being “relatable” and literal articles were written about it. About a dumb take! The content ouroboros must be satisfied. I remember on a very early date with the person I would eventually have a big, all-encompassing partnership with, we bonded over really getting hooked on Twitter during the marathon bombing manhunt. (He followed me the next day and the rest is history.)

But whatever that anecdote reveals about me, I think it also reveals something that was so special about Twitter for millions of lonely, bored, or just normal people who liked to share their thoughts: it was like opening the fridge, sometimes you did it just to see whats in there, other times you did it to truly make a meal, but most of the time you did it to sneak a snack. People weren’t logging on to simply promote their work, or make a joke to no audience, or post a selfie into the void; they were doing it for the little hearts, to make themselves laugh when they were hiding in the bathroom on a particularly brutal day at the office, to realize they aren’t the only one who wanted to talk about municipal tax rates. There was also schadenfreude, and mutable “expertise,” and the beauty of putting the indignities and absurdities of everyday life under a microscope, ready and willing to be memed to the point of exhaustion.

You all Get It already: for many years I was lonely and Twitter was the internet equivalent of “u up?” I suspect it was that for a lot of people too these past few years before things got back to normal-ish, too. 

Suddenly, though, Matt Levine had to cancel every PTO day to write about 13D vs. 13G filings and people were grandstanding (didn’t you know the law of conservation of virtue signaling applies to platform-hopping?!) and now it’s all a lot Less Fun. Despite this (because of this?), I’ve posted away to my fewer than 150 followers, many of whom I actually know and am deeply grateful for. I pray I never go viral over an asinine comment like “Kids writing 80085 on their calculators? Not so much these days...” But I live alone again, and literally no one follows my fake instagram, so the little hearts began to take outsize importance.

As in all matters of heartbreak, this story also involves the foundation of our modern era: the DM slide. DMs are a sacred space and I will not divulge anything about them. Suffice to say, it was in the DMs where I found the “one” (the aforementioned one merely being an invite code to Bluesky). So I get this code and not only do I strike up a friendly convo with the person who shared it with me, but I also am an early adopter of “what if Twitter, but not as toxic.” Fast forward three months and it turns out Bluesky is a complicated place to be as a normie.

This is what I’m realizing about these places, and why they matter, but why they also are so frustrating: they flatten everything. I am not actually friends with the super-posters, I’m their freaking internet colleague. I’m a jock nod in the hallway between the pantry and the bathroom. I would characterize this critique of my own misreading of DM largesse not so much as me making parasocial projections as it is about the inherent difficulties of information asymmetry. I know a lot about people who are extremely online, and therefore care about them, and that is simply not, nor could be, a two-way street. 

Normies like me have the bandwidth to care because we live on islands with 150 people. The 6 people who like my tweets? I know their really real stuff, they know my interests, we get drinks, we go back. And that’s why being on Bluesky is so disorienting. The super-posters get decent engagement, they don’t seem to care about over-posting (or sporadic posting) - it all gets the same stream of likes and comments (from their extremely online friends). I post my dumb shit and I’m lucky if the person I gave my invite code to shows it a little love. Which is the shitty truth at the bottom of all of this: it sucks feeling like the new kid in the 4th grade class. I don’t want to be an annoying person who says dumb stuff online for the sake of saying dumb stuff online, I actually value the hell out of those 6 people, because they make my world a little less flat.

So I’ve been doing whatever the behavioral equivalent of raising rates is so that I can cool down what the hell has been going on with my weird posting dependency. Being back on the blob is my liminal space between the worn-in comfort of Twitter and the uncomfortably tight feeling I get when I try on Bluesky (a platform where no one will ever understand my long running bit about “the concept of David Schwimmer”). I joked recently that I might just always be “in my eternal retvrn era,” but maybe my habits are just a flat circle, even if I don’t want my world to be. I started to use this space as a repository for the stuff I realized my friends didn’t want to get texts or emails about, or for thoughts that were too involved to fit in a tweet, and I think it’s the right time to re-direct my energy toward this platform that I’m less addicted to, but actually feel good about. 

Ultimately, this whole posting angst thing spiraled out for me when I got that invite code and thought more of it than it was, that’s on me. But most importantly, it’s always a good time to remember that even if posting is free, so is staring at the sky.

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

Hey! I was having the same issues on my laptop yesterday and looked at some forums, and right now the game is running in something called DX12, and to make it work (albeit a little choppy but my game smoothed itself out after a few minutes), you need to click on the options from whatever game host you use (such as GOG Galaxy or Steam) and run the game in DX11. In the settings, you might also need to adjust the graphics and visuals down (I did this, but not by much, and the game does still look visually different from the pre-update!) before starting the game. Feel free to dm me if you want!

The way I got it to launch yesterday was by switching to DX11. Before that, it was just crashing when it tried to load. But that didn't solve the problem. I dropped all the graphical settings down to the lowest possible options and the game ran for a bit but the performance was so absolutely atrocious that it was unplayable. Then it crashed again.

Someone else has shared a link on how to roll back to the previous version, which I think I need to do until I'm ready to get a new laptop. My laptop is a few years old and tends to struggle if I have too many browser tabs open, but it's still functional and I was able to play this game fine last week so I'm still annoyed by the update making it all but impossible.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i love steve harris, thanks

[angelkurenai]

Imagine being in a relationship with Dean, but when you finally start to make things more serious, you start to distance yourself and keep quiet from him. Being worried he might have ruined the best thing to ever happen to him and despite his insecurities, Dean decides to have a talk with you to figure out what’s wrong.

“What?” Dean's voice was gruff, still far too early for him to speak or stand in the first place especially since he hasn't had his coffee yet, but he did repeat with a frown at his brother “What?”

“Huh?” Sam blinked, looking away from your still – maybe far too still to be normal – form, hunched over your steaming cup of coffee, to look at his brother who had one raised eyebrow at him already “Oh uh, I- What did you say again?”

“I asked you. What's the matter man?” Dean blinked slowly compared to his brother who blinked too fast.

“No, nothing's the- You know actually-” Sam cleared his throat, turning more towards his brother and lowering his voice “I've just- I was looking at (Y/n) and I've noticed that lately some things are different, like- like this morning, and I've been meaning to ask you but I didn't know if I should so I just-”

“Sam” Dean said in a rough voice “Too early. Too many words. Cut to it.”

“Is she alright?” he asked with actual worry both on his face and in his voice “Cause I- I was paying attention to some things and she really doesn't seem like herself. I would've asked her but, while I'm her best friend, I didn't know if it was entirely my place to. So I thought I should ask you, seeing how attached to the hip you two are. Is (Y/n) alright?”

“I-” Dean started but frowned even more, his eyes immediately jumping to take in your form at the moment as he tilted his head to the side in confusion and deep thought “I don't-”

“You don't? Don't what, Dean? Don't know? She's your girlfriend, for crying out loud!” Sam whispered-hissed at his brother.

“I just- She seemed fine to me all this time! I never noticed a thing out of the ordinary. She's acting the same way she always did around me!” Dean shrugged, voice also hushed “No, really, that's how it's always been. Our relationship is the same too, maybe better than ever! I mean-” a smile, or more like a proud grin, started lifting the corners of his lips as he looked a bit into the distance in thought “If last night was any indicator, we are certainly better than ever!”

“You- what?” Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother with a tilt of his head.

“You know, I was a bit tired after the case, but then she came out of the shower wearing my shirt and you know how one thing can lead to another, and I really couldn't help. It was oof-” Dean blew out a breath “Wow, really, wow. So much of-” Dean had started recounting the events of the previous night with a coy smile on his face, until Sam interrupted him.

“Dean. Dean! Hey, not- not the point here, yes? And I'm certainly not interested in being scared for life by the mental images that would inevitably invade my mind, please and thank you.” the younger Winchester pointed out, effectively cutting him off also with a look that made Dean's smile vanish and the man sober up and get more serious “Our point here is (Y/n) and whether she is alright or not.”

“She-” Dean paused, letting out a short huff before straightening his back “Hey, honey? (Y/n)?”

“Hmh? What?” you asked slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you finally looked at something but your coffee, your boyfriend.

“Are you alright?” he asked caringly still.

“Define alright.” you said back with a serious face and they shared a look “Alright as in alright with an asteroid striking earth and killing everyone this morning or alright as in alright with passing out and sleep the rest of my life off with occasional breaks for midnight snacks?”

It took a couple seconds for any of the Winchesters to speak, only silence having followed save for the sound of the coffee machine, as they both stood there for a couple seconds only blinking”Alright as in... alright? Alright as in functioning properly as a human being and being... mentally stable perhaps?”

“Oh” you blinked, only twice, in understanding before shaking your head “No, then. No.” you went back to staring at your coffee, waiting for it to cool down and letting silence hang in the air but for a shorter amount of time before you added “As for mentally stable though, I think I've got something close to it. My mind is in a stable situation as in a never-changing state.”

“Never-changing state? Wh-what would that be?”

“You know, normal stuff.” you shrugged, eyes still laced with sleep “Like an internet browser.”

“You mean... like a computer? Sharp and with a good memory?”

“No, I mean like a browser. Fifteen tabs are open, seven of them are frozen and I don't know where the music is coming from.” you said with a casual shrug “But there's nothing new about it. 'S pretty much the story of my life, how I've always been. 24/7 and it stays the same, so don't worry.”

“I-” Sam frowned even more deeply, blinking in confusion again before shaking his head and turning his head abruptly to look at his brother and mostly glare at him, before he whispered “You call this alright?”

“Well, just between you and I... yeah!” Dean shrugged “That's how she is man, we both know it.”

“Well, yes, obviously. But today she seems to be even more of... that! Seriously, Dean-” Sam sighed deeply, shaking his head “Work with me for a moment here, ok? Really do. Think well about this. Has something happened that could affect her? Something that maybe... you don't even know about? Something that she wouldn't tell you for one reason or another?”

“Not tell me? Why would she not-”

“I don't know. I mean-” Sam shrugged, face going more serious this time around “Does she have a reason to? Is there something there that would cause it? Is... Is everything ok between the two of you?”

“Of course, why else-” Dean started, defending himself and what you had, before it slowly started downing on him and he stopped abruptly, going serious immediately “I'll- I will go talk to her.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, maybe you should wait a bit? Think this trough?” there was clear doubt in both Sam's voice and face, not that it deterred the older Winchester in the least bit. He was far too busy being worried abut other things than him messing up.

“Yeah, I've got this. Don't worry, I'll clear it all up.” he reassured his brother though Sam looked anything but reassured.

“Doubt that but alright, whatever you say.” Sam sighed “Just- Make sure to be calm. Be careful about this.”

Though Dean barely paid attention to half of the words, he gave a nod at his brother – which, alright, looked more dismissive than anything else – before making his way towards you.

“Hey, honey.” he said softly, slowly reaching out to take hold of your hand; the only thing you did was hum in acknowledgment, eyes focus on stirring your coffee.

“Alright uhm-” he cleared his throat, glancing at his younger brother who was looking closely at the two of you in concern “Hey, sweetheart, are you- How are you feeling today?” he corrected himself when he realized his previous question had already gotten an answer, albeit weird one.

“Oh just a lil bit tired. 'S all. But what else is new?” you shrugged, finally moving to slowly take a large sip of your coffee and sigh in content.

“I understand, the case was a bit tough for all of us. But things will get better, we'll take a break for some time if need be.” he nodded his head slowly, his fingers playing with yours as he hesitated for another second “I just- You know, you seem a bit off, so I- I couldn't help but feel slightly concerned about you. And I know you said you are ok but I wanted... I neededto ask you again if everything is really alright... between us?” his question managed to make you look up from your cup with a deepening frown and tilt of your head, fact that only put him even more on edge and made him worry even more.

“You felt concerned?” you question, glancing at Sam the same second he did.

“Yeah, I- well, we both did. But I even more so, you understand. So I just wanted to ask you. And honey, if- if I ever did anything, if I wronged you somehow, if- gosh, if I hurt you even, I am so sorry. I didn't- I didn't even realize it, I get so caught up with our hunts sometimes that... maybe I even neglect you. Some kind of boyfriend, I am.” he scoffed at himself, shaking his head “I know I suck sometimes, but you know I love you more than anything. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and to know that I might have somehow ruined this in any way, even in the slightest, hurts as hell. So I want you to tell me, I want us to talk, so I- so I can do my utmost to fix it. Something. Anything. So I can be better for you.”

“Fix it?” the more you only repeated his words in that careful, low tone the more the man panicked on the inside that things were much more wrong than he knew and wondered if there even was any fixing it.

“I- Well, I hope?” he asked slowly, before squeezing your hand “I just want us to be alright and it's clear that we're not. You just seem off and I was hoping you could talk to me about it, that I could change it. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need from me? Anything at all. You just tell me and I promise-”

“Well, since you started this-” you shrugged, straightening your back “I wasn't going to mention this but, yes, maybe you are right. There is something great I need, that I almost can't live without, and that I feel like I've been missing all this time. I really don't know how to tell you but in every relationship we must also think of ourselves, not our partner. There is no use in suffering just to make the other happy, it's not healthy. So I guess, enough is enough after some point, right?” you asked and he gave a weak nod “Dean-” you sighed heavily as he looked at you with almost wide, terrified eyes “I really need some space.”

Sam held his breath as he watched with almost wide eyes on his own the scene unfold before him, expecting anxiously his brother's reaction. He really hoped he didn't overreact, though, that his words were carefully thought, calm and collected instead of-

“You're breaking up with me?!” Dean nearly yelped the exclaim and Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. There went the first option of a civilized conversation, right out of the window.

You held his gaze for a couple more seconds, face completely blank before you finally snapped or close to it as you punched Dean on the shoulder “You're taking up all the bed you little piece of shit! I just need some space to sleep comfortably without having the fear of ending up on the floor, you idiot! I haven't been able to sleep well for the entire week because of you just sprawl out on the damn bed and take up all of the freaking space!”

When a kick on the foot under the table followed, Sam couldn't help but snort and let the smile rest on his lips. Relief, no doubt ten times bigger, washed over his brother though Sam wasn't sure for how long it would last.

“I'm so-”

“Oh no, you don't get to apologize! You don't get to say shit about this Winchester. I barely slept two hours last night, two freaking hours! All the while you were sprawled and snoring softly and murmuring in your sleep and enjoying your time in freaking dreamland like Sleeping Beauty!” but you apparently could snap harder and much as it made Dean back down with wide eyes, Sam was thoroughly enjoying it “So you want to be a good boyfriend and really try to make our relationship work? How about you start with the freaking basics such as letting me survive! Cause last time I checked lack of sleep is detrimental to one's health.”

“I- I will. I promise, I-”

“You fucking better.” you hissed, glaring at him before you grabbed your cup and got up, pausing only to look at Sam but with less menace because, in all honesty, he wasn't the one that wouldn't let you sleep “See? That's why I didn't like falling in love! Before you know it you sacrifice everything that's important to you for the other one. From sleep to your favorite cake! At least back then I didn't have to share my bed with anyone, it was all mine. And gosh, I will forever mourn that last piece I didn't get to eat. See, back when we weren't together he would have never dared do something like that! Now he has the audacity to do than and think that makeup sex will solve everything.” you scoffed shaking your head before muttering “Have a good day Sammy.” and exiting the kitchen.

“You have a nice day, too, honey.” Dean said albeit a bit more hesitantly, voice small.

“Don't tell me what to do!” you yelled both so that he could hear you and so that he knew you were far from alright “And stay the fuck away from my leftover fries!”

“I- alright.” Dean let out a breath, eyes wide before he shook his head and cleared his throat “Ok, well, it's safe to say that we don't have to wonder or worry anymore, right? So, silver lining.”

“Well, that did look like an (Y/n) who hasn't slept well, so yes it's safe to say we can be sure about what troubles her. Though I don't think that you're far from done.”

“No, yeah, I had no such illusion.” Dean sighed, getting his cup and taking a sip “I'm definitely gonna be sleeping on the floor for the next week.”

“Hmm maybe make it two?”

[miyaniacs]

this will be so much fun!!!

OKAY SOOO I’LL DO SOME OF MY FAVES FOR THIS ONE OKAY?

(repost bc it took too much time to write this to not show up in the tags numbers of failed attempts: 2 )

warnings: I guess slight nsfw and me being tipsy while writing this , all characters are 18+

characters: Kurro, Akaashi, Kenma, Oikawa, Bokuto, Ushijima, Iwaizumi, Osamu, Atsumu, Sakusa

masterlist

HC The boys find out their crush is a cam girl / has an onlyfans account

Kuroo

AYT NOW LISTEN

it was late at night and he couldn’t sleep so ... there is one thing he hasn't tried yet...

now he’s on some popular cam girl website and scrolling through the different cams

then he stops

this one girl seems familiar

he clicks on it and

JACKPOT ?! its YOU ??? HIS CRUSH ???!

but OMG. he had the best night of his life sweety

but still.. he will now definitely ask you out on a date tomorrow.

after seeing your beautiful body and the way you moan and move

HONEY NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO SEE THIS AGAIN

other than that he probably thinks it’s hot af that you are a cam girl

I mean Kuroo aka pornstar

he loves the fact that you the sweetheart for anyone else but could be the pornstar just for him

smug af the next day he sees you from afar

shy af the second you come over

Akaashi

HE DID NOT OPEN THIS TAB OKAY

he did tho but HE DID NOT OKAY?

OKAY!

so anyway - his browser magically opened his one website

and he just hear someone talk

he recognised the voice but - NO... this can’t be you right?

yeah jokes on him

he chocked on his on salvia when you walk in the view of the camera wearing nothing but some sexy black lingerie

GURL. BITCH THOUGHT YOU WERE A BABY?!

but now he knows you aren't

you definitely aren't

but he now wants you to be his babygirl

and he wants to look away.. but he can’t

soooooo ..... yeah. he had some fun that night

wasn’t sure how to look into your eyes the next time he saw you tho

Kenma

he did not find you

Kuroo did

and yes he immediately sent him the link with a voice memo of him basically just screaming

the said link lent to an onlyfans account

despite the fake user name, he instantly recognises the birth mark on your arm

yes the many times he watched you when you all were out with friends made him recognise this stuff

so did he pay to see the rest of the pictures and videos?

yes.

was he embarrassed?

oh hell yes.

was he still enjoying it?

yes.

is he now able to look into your eyes?

no.

Kuroo has to do all the magic to make him speak to you now - because you are, despite the account you got, still a shy bean who can’t talk to her crush

Oikawa

screams in the middle of the goddamn night

you - you just brought him chocolate a few hours ago?

and now your stripping in front of him? I mean you don't know that he's watching since you just do it in front of the cam

his little oik-oik is growing

he thought you were innocent?

will sent the link to IWA-CHAN

with a “LOOK AT MY CRUSH OMG”

after your lingerie is off and you took out a toy he sent another message

“WAIT NO DONT LOOK AT HER”

he will be all cocky tho when he sees you the next time

you walk up to him, saying a cute and shy “hello” and he’s just

“you haven’t been this shy last night”

you panic and run away which results in him panicking running after you screaming apologises

Bokuto

He is hyped

OMG

Poor Akaashi will probably know about all of this too

he has so much fun watching you online - imagining that you are here with him at this moment doing all of this just for him

which you secretly do since you’re also imagine him watching this

will open this website more often the following days then he would admit

i’m not sinning that much to actually write down the stuff that’s going on in his head

the next time he sees you

he does question if it was really you who he saw online

you are nothing like the girl he saw there

SOOOOOOO he straight up ask you

“hey y/n !!! are you (your username)” he smiles and tilts his head

you just black out

Ushijima

again poor baby

Tendou and Semi told him to visit this site - hot farmers advice

this baby thought he’d actually learn something he could tell you - his crush - since you recently TOLD HIM that you try to grow some tomatoes

but when the site finished loading

HE WAS NOT EXPECTING TO SEE YOU ON THERE

with nothing less than lingerie, an oversized plaid shirt AND a straw hat

you’re on all fours and the way you move and moan and talk to the camera

he wasn't really taking note of where his hand is wandering rn

soon after, you are now without a bra, he finds himself rock hard

the next day you tell him about your tomatoes WHICH ARE GROWING (!!!) he gets red af and just leaves

you look confused at a laughing Semi and Tendou rolling on the floor

Iwaizumi

he usually doesn’t do this stuff... but... it was some time until he got some

and he just wants you - so he doesn't want to hook up with some random girl

you’re pure and innocent and he accepts this and will wait for you too feel comfy enough so he can ask you out on a date

anyways he’s at this random website

and switches trough the channels to find someone he likes

and he chocks.

THIS CANT BE

YOU

he actually was about to text Oikawa but then stopped because Oikawa

he starred at the screen not even blinking

his hand is moving so fast

and all the things you say and the way you tease your viewers

omg

hny

he really wants to fuck some manners in you okay?!

awkward af the next day he sees you tho

yes talking about blushing IWA-CHAN

Osamu

his Laptop was broken

so he used Atsumu’s

WHO left this tab open

he let out a small scream, his normally stoic face falling

WHY ARE YOU NAKED ON HIS BROTHERS LAPTOP

now he sees that it’s an only fans

WHY IS HIS BROTHER PAYING TO SEE HIS CRUSH NAKED

but hey.. Atsumu’s not home... and he told him it’s okay to use his laptop..

a few minutes later he’s already worked up watching your beautiful body, his eyes following every movement of yours

he can’t really comprehend that you are the same girl that always comes to his shop, always stuttering and nervous while talking to him?

BUT HELL WAS HE ENJOYING IT

and those pictures of you in this maid uniform.

OH AND IS THIS CHOCOLATE ON YOUR BOOBIES

his imagination went wild

“OY i see you’re enjoying my present?” - Atsumu came back home

Atsumu

I mean it’s canon that he watches porn and is paying for some cam girls right?

so he’s looking for some now that look more like you - his crush.

someone cute and innocent

Gosh he loves it how easily you get flustered when he flirts with you

this one looks promising he thinks

and hell was it promising

it was you

surprise surprise

he was blushing for a whole minute baby

THAT ASS ?!

how tf have you hid that all the time?

SO many dirty thoughts

SOOOO MANY

will def call Osamu to his room

after he finished this lil problem down there obviously

Osamu is grossed out - he thought you are cool  and now he can’t look at you the same way

Atsumu tho - wont get that much sleep that night, your body and all the thing’s he’d do to you circling in his head keeping him up

is Atsumu enjoying this way too much the next day he sees you? Obviously YES

he will walk up to you, flirting, and when he’s about to leave he adds

“How about you skip todays stream and put on a show just for me?”

Sakusa

IT. WAS. NOT. HIS. IDEA.

Ratsumu sent him a link

our poor boy thought it was about volleyball and not something so dirty

he was CLEANING HIS ROOM WHEN HE OPEND IT

with the cleaning product you suggested to him

and now he sees you on his phone also cleaning

but with - with NOTHING ON ?!

he dopes the products and sits down on his bed - he knew you are beautiful but damn.. this hits different.

you with some MR. PROPER and WINDEX

PUHHH his fantasy is running wild WILD now that he sees you.. move .. and cleaning some of your toys and well

.... he needs to change the sheets and cleans again afterwards

ok so the next day... Atsumu already told you that he knows about your dirty little secret and that he sent it Sakusa to “help you two ”

Sakusa came and looked at you disgusted “You're dirty even tho you’re cleaning? that wasn't the way you’re supposed to uses those items.” he adds

“Then make me pure again?” you return ( @tendouthighs​​ about Sakusa) “- and show me how to properly use them”

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  

Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

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The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

[eunoiamaybe]

my “sort-of-complete” online classes and exams tips

This is a longer-than-usual post with tips for the 3 stages of online classes: focusing during an online class session, reviewing/studying for online classes, and preparing for online exams/ quizzes. So I decided to insert the “Read More” link to (a) not take up too much space on your dash, and (b) feel more confident in adding more tips as time goes on.

These are tips that I’ve compiled from my experience of taking online classes during my last 1.5 years at university. But having all of your courses moved online is so much more complicated. Since I’m currently doing an internship, I have tried my best to produce this post based on the comments of my friends IRL and on Tumblr (hence the “my”). However, I hope it can still be useful for you and many who were all abruptly put in this same situation.

So feel free to share your own tips and experience! I will probably go back to this once in a while to make some changes to it and add your tips. Good luck to everyone who is currently/ about to take online classes. You are almost there! 🍀 I believe in every single one of you!

~  Click away for them tips   ~

💻 DURING ONLINE CLASS SESSIONS:

- try to treat online classes the same as an in-person class, especially time-wise (set a specific time for each class and plan your own class schedule. even better, study for your classes at the same time they used to be held. this will create a sense of routine and trigger the brain's normal reactions to your usual class - which is to study)

- don’t be afraid to fix your plan/ schedule (aka don’t force yourself into one if it doesn’t work for you) (trials and errors, my friend. this applies to plans too. there’s no shame in not being able to keep up with the schedule you’ve made. if you’ve tried or if it hurts you mentally or physically, then that schedule is just not the one for you. everybody has their unique strengths and weaknesses. one’s perfect system might not suit another. finding a system that works for you takes time, patience, and courage. but it will be absolutely worth it)

- find a good spot with enough light and stable wifi (if you have multiple options, select the one that would make you most comfortable, most focused, and confident enough to take online tests/quizzes/exams at - create your “exam space” in advance to reduce the anxiety of tests and unfamiliarity)

- study at a desk, if possible (studying at a desk, with good posture, mimics the feeling of being in a classroom or the library. thus, it will create a sense of routine and help you focus better)  

- accommodate yourself (I’m all about making the best out of a bad situation, and this is one way to do it.  accommodate yourself, not just with comfort, but also with actual necessities that you cannot usually get in your usual classroom/library due to whatever reason. stress balls, stim toys, positivity cards, calming music/candles. comforting plushies. chewing gum. as long as it helps you focus better, it's on the table)

- get dressed (this will bring out that sense of structure and routine that you need. put on your normal outfits, uniforms and even perfume. trick your mind into being focused)

- minimize distractions (declutter your study space. put your phone out of reach. turn off notifications. close all other tabs on your browser. select non-distracting music/ sounds. don’t spam or pay attention to spams in your classes’ chatboxes. only bring along items that are absolutely vital to your focus)

- take notes, even if you can record your lessons and/or access the lessons later (it can either be digital notes or handwritten notes on paper - your call. this will force you to focus and prevent you from zoning out/ being distracted)

- be actively engaged in the lecture (if there are technical problems or if you have questions, chatbox away. this is also good practice for people with social anxiety too: the fact that you are in your home and behind the screen can make it easier for you to ask for help)

- if possible, put your teachers/profs on the big screen to create the illusion of being in a lecture (if your study spot has a TV/projector that can connect to your laptop and quality speakers, do it. it's more fun than you'd think. also super stimulating and kicks the boredom out of you too)

- if not, use headphones/ earphones (speakers can create a feeling of distance between the lecture and yourself. combined with unstable internet and/or monotonous voices of some instructors, this may result in your brain classifying your lecture as background noises and zone out. so use headphones or earphones with the appropriate volume for that optimal focus mode)

- give yourself breaks between classes (don't cram all your classes in one morning. but don't procrastinate either. time your breaks. look at something else besides a computer or phone screen while you’re on break too. maybe brew some tea/coffee for your next class or rearrange your notes from the previous one)

💻 REVIEWING FOR ONLINE CLASSES:

- make a schedule/ system - and be ready to change them (this is an elaboration of an earlier tip. your system doesn’t have to work perfectly right away. most of the time, you will have to make some kind of adjustments to it anyway. so take it easy. pay attention to how well you react/ adapt to the new schedule so that you can make necessary changes. and give yourself - especially your mind - some time to adapt to the schedule. don’t rush yourself or put too much pressure on being productive. remember to take care of your well-being too)

- it’s okay to give yourself some off-days (that’s the beauty of not having any physical or even abstract structure that forces you into an inescapable routine. Yes, I know this lack of structure sucks for a lot of us, especially for those who rely on external forces to keep themselves focused. But look on the bright side: now you don’t have to worry about missing classes or losing participation marks when you are unwell physically and mentally anymore)

- textbooks are your friends now (especially when your classes’ live-streams are just chaotic and hard to follow. or when the pre-recorded lectures aren’t loading properly and keeps lagging. practice speed reading. look for keywords and crucial information. take notes rather than highlighting everything. compare them to your lecture notes, your syllabus, or your friends’)

- take advantage of the online format’s availability + other resources (availability is here, baby! revisit lecture videos and podcasts as many times as you need to. check your email classes’ forums regularly for questions or announcements. re-listen to your lecture when you're cleaning or exercising. watch videos of Khan Academy or CrashCourse. look for online tutors. study at your own pace and in your own style. basically anything you wish you could do when your class was in-person)

- there’s no need to submit assignments early if it’s anxiety-inducing. but make a schedule/ tracking system/ set alarms to avoid forgetting to turn them in (take your time to double-check or edit your work - as long as the submission box is still open, of course. set aside about an hour or two before the deadline for submission to avoid any technical difficulties. and remember to start working on them early so that you don’t have to shorten that window of time and have more time for double-checking)

- don't be afraid to email the profs/teachers (if possible, compile your questions into a list. be as specific as you can about your concerns. put a subject for your email to reduces the chance of your email getting lost in your instructors' inbox.)

- reward yourself (don't stress yourself out by rewarding big accomplishments. reward small victories. reward baby steps. reward effort. you'll get things done eventually)

- take time to know your learning style (when are you most focused? do you like taking digital notes or do you prefer pen and paper? are you a visual or an auditory learner? do you like moving around while studying? what drinks or scents or sounds keep you going? you don't have to stick to your usual study methods or an online/paperless one now that you are studying in your own room)

- listen to your mind and body (it’s okay to feel a bit lost) (from my own experience, times that are without structure like nowadays is when most of us fall into this spiraling downfall of unhealthy sleep schedules, lethargy, and loss of purpose. so please take care of your mental and physical well-being during this very, very weird time. keep yourself active. re-ignite old interests/ hobbies. connect with people you love. give yourself some love)

- and more tips on productivity at home in my last post right here

💻 PREPARING FOR ONLINE EXAMS / QUIZZES:

- make a list of all the online exams and final assignment due dates (this will help you keep track of and stay on top of them due dates. from that list, trace backward to make a review or study plan to prepare for the tests and work on the assignments. if there are any time conflicts, especially for those who are now living in a different timezone from their schools or colleges, email the instructors to seek solutions or alternative options)

- again, find a good spot with good wifi, good lighting, and a desk (if possible, try to recreate your ideal exam environment as closely as you can while studying and reviewing for the exams. this can reduce the anxiety of tests and/or unfamiliarity)

- be prepared for technical difficulties (especially mentally, so that you don’t plan out a course of action to take if they ever arise. draft an email template. research in advance the contacts of people whom you can report to - IT personnel, your instructors, student office, etc.)

- bring everything you need to the exams - but no distractions (like mentioned earlier, if you need any special accommodations that are considered "unacceptable" in an in-person exam/quiz, now it's the time to bring them along - you’re in charge of your test space now, so make it as comfortable and accomodating as you want)

- plan your desk set-up prior to your exams (so many extra items. still so little desk space. therefore, plan ahead so your desk does not turn into a mess when you take your exams. plan where you want to put your notes, textbooks, calculators or scrap paper. think about how much use you’re gonna get out of each item and place them within or slightly-out-of reach accordingly. charge your laptop. sharpen your pencils. have your backup stationery handy. lay out everything you need onto your desk the night before your tests. this can create a feeling of preparedness and thus, reduce anxiety as well)

- make cheatsheets (the goals when making them are simple: (1) get you to rewrite your notes for that good memorization; (2) condense your information and find a connection between them for a thorough understanding of the materials; (3) reduce the time you use to flip through your notebooks or textbooks or google for information during the actual tests)

- time yourself with mock exams (if you are given mock exams to practice with, do them, with a timer. this will help you familiarize yourself with the stress of being timed, thus reducing your anxiety during the actual tests)

- get enough sleep and eat properly (even if the exams or quizzes are online, they are still, at their core, tests. and tests are always stressful and energy-consuming. so take care of both your physical and mental health, especially during the week leading up to your exams)

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Little Bit Like Home

You moving to school has been tougher than Calum would like to admit but there are some moments that make it easier to bear, there are small moments where it’s not so bad. 

A continuation of these two blurbs (Blurb 1 and Blurb 2) Again it’s hella self indulgent. Inspired what really happened to me in my DnD campaign, see this post.  

**Contains spoilers for the Waterdeep Heist from Dungeons & Dragons if you are currently playing that module!!!**

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on Ko-fi

___________

“Can I make a perception check on the walls? See if there’s anything else funky in this room?” you ask, clicking over in your browser tab to the dice roller. The DM allows you to make that call and you click on the d20. 

“Your the only one rolling well on those things tonight,” one member of your party, playing an Orc sent out to learn magic and getting packed in with your ragtag group, notes after their failed attempt to pick the lock. You managed to pick that that too, but you chalk it up to you being a Drow Rogue and lock picking being one of your skills. 

“18,” you call out, looking back at your character sheet to make sure you’ve done the math correctly. 

“18?” The DM asks, just to be sure. You nod. “Okay, so you look around the room and there’s not really anything worth noting besides some dirt and blood. But no traps, no buttons in this room.”

“This room,” the entire party echoes laughing. The six of you have just survived barely a lightning trap. Which you still refuse to admit to setting up, but it was definitely you since as the marching order had you in front. 

“We’re going to have to go back to that mimic room,” the paladin of your group declares. Your party was warned that the room at the start of your adventure in this hell of a magic maze could be a trap and a mimic could be in the depths of it. But there was a chest still yet to be opened. However, you took the advice of your Orc and backed out of that room to avoid a fight just yet. 

Your previous encounters in other rooms leaving some of your party is better shape than others. This early in your adventure together the five of you didn’t really want to risk loosing anyone just yet. Lightening and your pirates love of ale seemed to be your only foe at the moment. 

“We should maybe just see what’s in here first,” Calum, playing as a Druid, counters. “Though it seems like if we find yet another key to a door that’s already been picked, it’s might be useless.” 

You know the tease is directed at you. “Hey, look here buddy, I will not hesitate to shoot a quiver into your ass. I see a lock I’m going to pick it,” you defend. 

“Besides,” your party’s pirate starts, “we’ve ducked a lot of rooms afraid of getting into another fight. If they pick a lock or two and we find the key later, at least we can add to the Bard’s collection.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. 

Soon your party’s able to direct their attention back on the adventure and magic maze you’ve found yourself in. You and Calum end up smashing mirrors in a room to avoid any sort of magic in them that would cause your party to fight your soul doubles. This leads to a five minute debate of how to leave said room that didn’t involve shoving the unicorn that your party was tasked with finding up someone’s ass due to a riddle unveiled, Everything you see is mine.

“Wait,” you say, laughing at the argument about who can fit the unicorn into their mouth. It was deemed to be more dignified. Your pirate waits outside the room, still naked thanks to the magic that rips all the clothes, weapons, and armor off of anyone that attempts to leave the room. “Everything you see is mine. If the mirrors are smashed, then nothing can be seen right?”

“No, shards can be face up, so technically things can be seen,” the party’s Bard counters. 

“No, no, you’re onto to something,” the pirate starts. 

“Oh my god, we’re so fucking dumb,” the orc hollers. “Someone cover their eyes. You means us. Anything we can see can’t leave the room.”

Thankfully, you’re still dressed having only attempted to leave the room and letting others continue with their naked escapades. “Holy shit,” you shriek as you direct to your DM how you cover your face with your hood and hold it tight around your eyes so you can’t see anything and step through the door. You’re able to cross completely clothed, swords, crossbow, and pack still in tact. 

“We’re so fucking STUPID,” you laugh. 

Calum’s giggle cuts through the speakers of your laptop. “How were we so prepared to just be fucking naked through the rest of this maze?” He directs to the DM that he redresses, having also attempted several times to brute force the magic door with no success. 

“We never speak of that,” the orc demands through their own laughter. “Never.”

The party comes to a stopping point about another hour later, saying goodbyes before leaving the Zoom meeting. Not even thirty seconds later after ending that call, an incoming FaceTime call comes from Calum. You answer it, wiping at the corner of your eyes. He’s grinning as the call finally connects. The weekend that Calum came up to visit, a friend in the cohort asked you if you’d be willing to going a beginner’s campaign. You had wanted to give the game a whirl but you knew it would be a time suck and asked if it was okay to bring someone else along too. 

After getting a yes from the DM you know you had to convince Calum to join in. It took less effort than you thought for him to join in and the two of you spent a couple hours the night before picking out your characters before you emailed the information back to the DM. Now every Saturday night you and Calum spend about three hours in a Zoom getting into all sorts of trouble. He settled easily on the Druid but spent forever trying to find an artist rendering of his character, Okolian, that felt right. Long black hair with streaks of white was a must along with a single braid as well, which he stole from your character’s look though your hair is all white. 

Slowly, it was decided that Okolian would have blue skin muscular, but not overly buff and refused to wear sleeves in order to wear leather arm bands around his biceps which could easily be mistaken for tattoos or markings of his people. Okolian prefers his staff but is also armed with a sickle and mace. The Calum touch of course was to add ferns rather than feathers. 

“I can’t believe you were going to let me be the one to have to figure out the unicorn,” Calum teases. 

“Hey, it was only six inches. Not that bad.”

He sputters his laughter. “Is that payback for calling you out for picking all the locks?”

“I would never do such a thing but maybe.” 

“Anything else on the agenda for tonight?”

“No not really. Whatever work there is out in the world, I’ll get to it tomorrow. What about you? The night’s still young.”  

Calum shrugs. “A friend was supposed to get back to me about drinks tonight,  but I haven’t heard anything yet. If he gets back within the hour or so, I’ll probably tag along but if not, it’s not a big deal. But you never did tell me about last night. How’d that go?”

You cover your face for a second, remember how many drinks were consumed the night previously. Calum laughs at the slightly panicked look that crosses your face. “There was two drinks too many past my usual limit and I felt it. Big time,” you answer. 

He’s glad to hear you getting out more. It’s in turned made him feel a bit better about getting back to his normal routine, getting dinner more with the guys or other friends. Missing you doesn’t hurt so bad anymore for Calum. He feels most often right before he’s going to bed, when he’d normally curl up into your side and open his arms wide for you to curl up into him. But it hurts less during the day. 

Getting used to the cohort and getting out a couple Friday’s in the month has helped you as well. You don’t feel so chained to your phone, don’t feel so beholden to being there for every text right away. It’s still hard when you start to cook dinner and almost reach out for a second plate still by habit. And in the morning when you’re fixing your cup of coffee your brain still wants to pull down a second cup. Sometimes you do. Sometimes you just give in because you need it. Need to let yourself sit with those feelings. 

“I’ll be sticking with cider after last night,” you tease. “Wine makes me myself too much. Never doing that again.”

Calum’s been privileged to see you wine drunk a couple of times and he can already imagine the type of trouble you nearly got yourself in. “Is your picture on the wall at the bar?”

“Not that bad, but close,” you giggle. 

“What am I going to do with you?” 

It’s just a joke but for a moment it makes you pause--what’s going to happen when you go back for break? Are things going to be different? Most of your clothes and things are still there though slowly more and more has been shipped to you. Is Duke going to remember you? Miss you too?

“Promise me the house isn’t too different?”

Calum furrows his brows, head titling just a little to the side. “What do you mean, baby?”

“Like without me, is it all going to be different when I come back?”

“It’s all pretty much the same here. Duke’s the king of the castle. Still have plenty of hoodies for you to steal and your side of the bed still misses you. I still miss you.”

“No, I--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like I don’t want you to find ways to cope but I don’t know. What if it never feels right? Like so much has been missed that I just won’t ever fit in again?”

Calum shakes his head. “Babe, no. You still belong. Your shoes still have space in the closet. Your mugs still sit in the cabinets. There is so much of you still here--it’s how I get through the days.”

Maybe that’s what’s rough for you. There’s not much of Calum at your place. There’s none of his dirty laundry that’s halfway hanging of laundry baskets and there’s no bass rumbling and there’s snoring next to you at night. It’s all you, which is nice. But you wish you had a little bit of Calum too. 

“There’s none of you here,” you say softly. 

“I can fix that.” It’s a steady confidence, a nod of his head at statement. “Don’t you worry.”

You two steer the conversation to something lighter before you call it a night. And it’s harder to get up the next morning, to peel yourself out of the sheets. But you do it, you push up with a grunt and get your day started. Coffee, a quick bowl of cereal and fruit. You call Calum right before lunch to check in and then get back to work. 

As the days pass, the conversation the ache gets buried in some stress. However, you get a text about a package to get from the lockers at the front of your complex so shuffle down the path thinking it’s the new mattress pad you ordered. It shipped late last week but you hadn’t expected it to arrive this soon. 

As the door swings open to the locker you spy Calum’s handwritten on the label of the package. What the hell had be gone and done? You pick up the box and kick the door close with your foot before taking it back up to your apartment. Setting the box down on the kitchen counter, you find the scissors and cut into it. Right on top is a small envelope with your name scribbled across it. 

You said you didn’t have anything of me. So I knew I had to correct that. I hope they help. And a little thing from the old man, well not from him. But you’ll understand when you get to that. 

Love you. 

Digging into the box, you notice a few guitar pics, a couple extra t-shirt and then a long thin box. You pick it up, noticing it looks like a necklace. But with Calum you never can be sure. As you crack it open, you laugh, finding a gold chain staring up at you, attach to it is a tiny locket that as a paw print on it. You crack it open though and find a tiny picture of Calum and you inside of it and your eyes well with tears. It’s from your last vacation before you left for school, just two of you reclined on the beach and Calum kissing your temple. 

You draft a text to Calum. Tell Duke it feels like home now. 

[kikoqueenofrats]

TW mention of injury and bruises

Hey so remember when I said I’d post the fic if people gave the post enough attention?

Yeah I decided I didn’t need that and went ahead anyways-

So yeah, enjoy stick oc shenanigan's- 

Also @toastraccoon​ Because she let me rant about my two idiots and now they’re getting a story because of her-

Also yes this is gonna be in multiple parts-

It was just an average day for Mari. 

They were currently exploring a new desktop they had stumbled into. Like they always did, keeping an eye out for any user activity as humans usually didn't like seeing stick figures randomly appearing on their computer.

Mari had to stay alert at all times incase they were discovered, so they could leave the computer immediately after.

They checked the screen to see if the user of this computer was still asleep...yup, the poor guy had probably been working on some sort of writing project before Mari had stumbled in but now they were completely out of it, so Mari currently had free reign of the computer.

Well as free as they could be without completely wrecking it, Mari didn't feel the need to do that to a random person...even if they did end up being a stick hating jerk.

Mari whistled out a tune whilst they walked across the word document currently holding the users project. They began to think about the adventures they had been on and all the sticks they had met. None of them seemed to want to leave their desktop to explore the internet with Them, too content to leave the lives they were currently leading.

Oh well their loss.

A loud thud followed by a coughing fit brought Mari out of their thoughts. They looked towards the noise and noticed a small blue stick figure curled up on the floor.

Well that wasn't there before.

"HEY!!" Mari called out to them as they jumped down from the tab. The blue stick flinched, beginning to frantically look around before their eyes landed on Mari.

They jumped, backing away from Mari as much as they could, their eyes not leaving Mari's face.

Mari slowly made their way over, taking notice of how dirty and disheveled the blue stick was...and also the fact that they were shaking like a leaf.

"You okay?" Mari asked, kneeling in front of the blue stick so they wouldn't look as threatening.

The blue stick looked at them hesitantly, debating on whether or not they should answer that question, if they could answer that question.

They opened their mouth and what came out was a gravely version of their own voice.

"I...I'm not sure..I..."

That was all the blue stick could say before their throat closed up on them in favor of the tears that were now streaming down their face. 

Mari took that in, they weren't the best at dealing with this kind of problem, however Mari was determined to help this unfortunate stick. 

Blue was a mess, both physically and mentally, their body was covered in what looked like burn marks and dirt, there was a slight red tinge to some of the places on their body as well...most likely open wounds from whatever the poor stick went through.

"Hey...you look like you've been through a lot..do..uh..you wanna get clean? I can help" Mari wasn't sure how comforting they sounded...but it seemed to work.

The blue stick figure nodded slowly and tried to get to their feet.

Great! Mari knew just what to do, they quickly opened the internet browser and looked up a game they knew would help.

Mari didn't notice just how much the blue stick was struggling to stand on their own until they had located the game they were looking for. 

It was one of those, wash and dress this cute pet kind of game. The pet wasn't all that cute in Maris opinion...it was actually kind of creepy.

Mari quickly shook the thought away as they went to grab the blue stick. Mari should really try to put a name to them...

"Hey what's your name?" Mari asked as they gently took the blue sticks hand and pulled them to their feet "my name's Maroon...Mari for short, I gave it to myself pretty neat huh?"

The blue stick slowly nodded, trying to keep themselves from falling over again as the sudden movement had caused their head to spin.

After a while they replied, "I..don't really...have one" they smiled sheepishly, their voice still horse.

"That's okay" Mari replied "I'll give you one after we get you cleaned up and healed alright" They smiled as they pulled the blue stick onto the web page.

The blue stick nodded in response, still shaking slightly as they were forced to stand on their damaged legs. 

Mari quickly pulled out the shower head from the games task bar and pointed it at the blue stick. "I'm gonna turn the water on now, brace yourself" Mari grinned turning on the shower head before the blue stick could reply.

Despite the warning the Blue stick still yelled in surprise as the cold water hit their skin, they pulled their arms up in defense.

"It's okay, it's okay you'll be clean" Mari reassured continuing to move the shower head in an attempt to clean all of the dirt on the blue sticks body. 

After a while of this the blue stick was finally clean.

Whilst the blue stick was drying themselves off Mari quickly grabbed the Minecraft cube from off the main desktops task bar and began pulling out different ingredients for a potion and a brewing stand.

The blue stick may be clean, but the wounds were still there.

Mari just hoped this would work.

After finishing their task Mari pulled out the many ingredients for a potion of healing, they hadn’t done this in a while, but they had done this before so they were confident that they would get this right. After the mental reassurance they quickly began the brewing process. 

Mari then decided to figure out what they were going to call the blue stick figure whilst the potion was brewing.

Running over to the still open web page they began typing "different shades of blue" into the task bar.

The blue stick was still sitting on the edge of the web page, now bundled up inside the towel that was drying them. They were watching Mari curiously, wondering what they were doing.

After finishing their sentence and hitting search Mari waited for a few moments for the page to load before hitting the images part of the search results.

They jumped down and began randomly clicking the coloured squares and comparing them to the stick sitting a few feet away from them.

After doing this about two times Mari seemed to find a colour that matched, looking at the images name they turned to the blue stick figure smiling proudly.

"How do you like the name Cerulean... Cel for short?" They asked.

The blue stick thought about it for a few moments before nodding "yeah...that sounds nice" they smiled "thanks"

"No problem Cel!" Mari grinned before running off to go check on their potion.

It had just finished brewing by the time Mari got to it. They quickly grabbed the bottle from the stand and ran back.

"Here" Mari grinned excitedly holding the bottle out to Cel. Cel hesitated for a few moments before taking the bottle, "it'll help you feel better, trust me" Mari reassured them, noticing the hesitant look Cel had given them.

Cel nodded slowly before downing the entire thing at once. A few moments passed and nothing really changed...then slowly but surly Cel’s wounds began to heal. A few minuets later and all of Cel’s open wounds were gone. A few of the bruises remained however, but since the potion of healing mostly covered open wounds Mari was expecting this.

That didn’t mean they weren’t still incredibly relived.

"Yes! It worked!!" They grinned fist pumping in victory, frightening Cel slightly as a result. Mari didn’t notice this and continued "Now" Maris once excited face was now serious "what happened to you?".

Maris face softened as they noticed Cel nervously biting their lip. However they were anxious to find this information out and was about to push them more before Cel spoke. 

"My game...was attacked and...I was thrown into the icon...over there" Cel gestured in the direction of the smaller task bar on the desktop with a shaking hand. The one that contained the volume and WiFi icons.

Mari nodded along as Cel continued "It broke and...I guess I was sent here..." They shrugged. 

After a few minuets of silence Mari assumed Cel was finished.

"Wow...that sounds rough..." Mari mused "Well now I'm here...maybe I can help you" Cel seemed to perk up at that "you can?" They gasped, Mari nodded in reply.

"Yeah I can, I know the internet like the back of my hand!" Mari stated confidently, truth be told they were lying slightly...all they had been doing for the past few months was randomly jumping from one desktop to another...they didn't really have a way to plan out their routes.

But if this was the way to keep their new friend then they were all for it.

A groan echoed across the desktop and Mari tensed, Oh no the user's waking up!. They quickly grabbed Cel and yanked them away, in response Cel let out a startled yelp.

"We gotta go!" Mari gasped after arriving at their destination. They let go of Cels hand and grabbed onto the WiFi icon.

"Mari wa-" Cel gasped as Mari pulled, a large glowing hole akin to a rip in paper suddenly burst into existence as the icon broke and Mari turned to Cel again.

"Come one!" They ordered holding out their hand. Cel hesitated again, but decided that whatever Mari was freaking out over wasn't something Cel wanted to deal with so they took it.

With that, the duo jumped into the hole as the user watched in confusion...wondering if they were still asleep. 

[marryat92]

Hi! Where should I start with learning about Marryat/reading his books? Your blog has made me really interested haha

Thanks for the ask, I love getting messages like this! As far as reading his books, we’re in a golden age of accessibility thanks to all the 19th century literature available for free download on Google Books: that’s how I’ve read almost all of my Marryat books so far. If you’re willing to pay for electronic versions of his books, there are many offerings on Kindle and through Apple Books. Print versions are harder to find, but nautically-focused McBooks Press has many recent Marryat reissues. (edit to add: I recommend free scanned 19th century editions of Marryat's books on sites like Google Books and Archive.org, in preference to ebooks and print on demand. No bad OCR, and the original typesetting benefits the period writing style of huge paragraphs with double- or triple-spaced sentences).

When I first started reading Marryat, in the form of Google e-books on my phone, I would always have one or two browser tabs open just to look up the Age of Sail terminology, and sometimes period references. I can now recommend a few more free e-books for that purpose: The Sailor’s Word-Book, by Admiral William Henry Smyth, and The Young Sea Officer’s Sheet Anchor by Darcy Lever. Sometimes just plugging sailing terms into a search engine can give you misleading results that are more relevant for modern yachts, not a sea-going vessel from the days of Nelson’s Navy.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: in many ways reading Frederick Marryat is comparable to reading Jane Austen. Same time period, same culture, and you’ll find a similar vocabulary to refer to social conventions, food, clothing, the political climate, and so on. This is useful to know because while there is unfortunately not a big Marryat fandom out there, there is a massive Jane Austen fandom who have produced numerous guidebooks and blogs about fashion, food, you-name-it from early 19th century Britain, and these can be very helpful!

What Marryat books should you read first? This is subjective, but I recommend his early and mid-career novels for adults —as opposed to the books for children that he wrote at the end of his life, which are unsurprisingly less spicy and more didactic— and avoiding his historical fiction e.g. The Phantom Ship, which is heavy on the purple prose since people from The Past have to be melodramatic. (Also he didn’t have access to Google, and he put carronades in a historical novel 100 years before they were invented amongst other bloopers). One of Marryat’s greatest charms is the veracity of his Napoleonic-era novels, which draw from his lived experiences. Scholars look to Marryat as a primary source on everything from club-hauling a ship to sailors’ tattoos.

My current Intro to Marryat rec is his novella The Three Cutters (but not, as I note in the linked post, his novella The Pirate, which usually comes bundled with The Three Cutters as they were originally published together). Mr. Midshipman Easy comes up a lot, and it’s certainly one of his more well-known works in the present day. I’m a little more equivocal about recommending it as a first venture into Marryat (I prefer a few books ahead of it), but in a way it’s a good crash course into his novels, for good and bad. It can be very funny, there is some trenchant commentary, and in other parts it totally runs off the rails. There is also a characteristic level of simultaneously condemning racism (the prejudice the character Mesty encounters) and indulging in racist tropes that make modern readers uncomfortable (the way Mesty’s dialog is written; the fact that he is a Scary Black Man devoted to the white hero character).

Not to digress too much about Marryat’s Problematic ways, because he was a pretty complex and flawed person from two centuries ago and I hate to flatten that complexity, but it bears mentioning that he tends to write, in general, in broad national and ethnic stereotypes. It’s rare for his Black characters to not speak in an othering dialect which I could very charitably say is influenced by a West Indian accent that he would have encountered in real life. He has barbaric Irish characters in The King’s Own who attack and kill the survivors of a shipwreck, but a more positive albeit still stereotypical representation in Terence O’Brien from Peter Simple. (O’Brien and Mesty are, weirdly enough, very similar characters who both exist to support the [Anglo] white hero— and “Ashantee” Mesty even speaks with an Irish accent, since he learned English from Irish emigrants). Marryat’s white European (non-British) characters can have literally the same diction as his Black characters, as in this passage from Jacob Faithful with a French person speaking: “Madame Tagliabue did noting but cry all last night when she heard the very bad news about de debt, and all dat [...] suppose a gentleman no lose his honour, what matter de money?”

The fact that Marryat’s novels take place all over the British Empire, and depict the multicultural world of that Empire even within Britain, because the Royal Navy took a pragmatic approach to a diverse workforce, means that there are many opportunities for him to use cringey dialect and indulge in offensive stereotypes that were regarded as acceptable humour or familiar tropes at the time. Contrast and compare with his friend and contemporary Charles Dickens, who is beloved even today, but I would argue that he was about a hundred times more racist than Marryat, going by the screeds that he published in magazines (many of them quoted in Patrick Brantlinger’s book Rule of Darkness: British Literature and Imperialism, 1830-1914, which also examines themes of imperialism and colonialism in Marryat’s works).

I wouldn’t be reading so much of Frederick Marryat if I didn’t enjoy the way he spins a yarn, and I find his novels genuinely entertaining on their own merit, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that a big part of my enjoyment is the way Marryat illuminates his time period and his world. I am deeply interested in the 19th century Royal Navy, the British Empire, and life in early 19th century England; and Marryat is almost like having a personal guide, making his era “real to us and ordinary,” as Virginia Woolf wrote. There are thrilling aspects to his world and horrifying ones. Marryat writes from his own perspective, that of a privileged, upper-class, Protestant white man, but he is not without empathy and nuance (and sometimes I think he is unfairly painted as some kind of imperialist cheerleader when he was often critical of the empire and its machinations).

To learn more about Captain Marryat himself, you can’t go wrong with one of the chief sources for all of his biographies: his daughter Florence Marryat’s collection of correspondence and biographical sketches, The Life and Letters of Captain Frederick Marryat. This is available as a free e-book: volume 1, volume 2. David Hannay’s Life of Frederick Marryat is very Victorian and mediocre, but also free in e-book form. (Can’t beat free books!)

For a modern(ish) biography of Marryat, my personal favourite might be Oliver Warner’s Captain Marryat: A Rediscovery, but it was published in 1953. Much easier to find, and most recently published, the naval historian Tom Pocock wrote Captain Marryat: Seaman, Writer and Adventurer in 2000. Pocock’s book is probably the best recommendation for someone looking for a good Marryat biography that includes illustrations and isn’t impossible to find. It’s fun to read, and Pocock has an obvious love for Marryat and his books (and he gets bonus points from me for being a Frank Mildmay fan).

[castielgeralt]

How to Study Plot and Character in Your Favorite Stories: 5 Easy Steps

What if I told you the best way to learn how to create amazing plots and characters in your own stories was by purposeful osmosis? First, of course, I might have to explain that “purposeful osmosis” means reading lots and lots of books and watching lots and lots of movies–and consciously studying what it is about them that works. With that explanation out of the way, chances are you’re in agreement. But chances are, you’re also not entirely sure how to actually make this happen. Just how do you figure out how to study plot and character in other people’s stories?

Not too long ago, Wordplayer K.M. Updike (she of the rad initials!) emailed me, asking:

[What is] your process for studying the plot, structure, character arcs, etc., of the books you read and the movies you watch? I’ve been wondering for a while how one goes about studying the writer’s work as they read/watch.

This is an excellent question. After all, it’s easy for Stephen King to say:

Don’t get me wrong: this is a tremendous piece of advice. But it’s also pretty vague.

That’s it? We just … read? And the answers will, what? Come to us?

Yes, actually. To some extent anyway. The more we read and watch good (and bad) stories, the better our own storytelling instincts will get–without our having to do even one thing more.

But in the interest of upping our game here, how about we do a few things more? Today, I’m going to give you an actionable plan for how to study plot and character (and lots more) in your favorite stories.

1. Start With an Action Plan

The first step in being purposeful is, of course, to have a purpose. Often, you may simply want to observe the books you read and the movies you watch generally, letting the story’s own strengths and weaknesses guide your study. But it can help you dig down deeper if you have a list of things you want to consciously pay attention to.

I recommend a short list. The shorter, the better, in fact.

Why? Because your brain can only keep track of so many tangents at once (says the woman with twenty tabs open in her browser). You’ll get better results if you focus on one or two primary elements or techniques at a time.

For example, lately, I’ve been concentrating on dialogue (both because it’s something I’m working on myself and because I’m planning a series of blog posts on dialogue for sometime next year). I watch the ebb and flow of dialogue, taking note of what works and what doesn’t. What’s the effect–and why did the author intend it?

This isn’t to say, of course, that you can’t also take note of anything interesting, in any category, that reveals itself. But only consciously follow certain rabbits down their holes.

2. Arm Yourself With Highlighters and Pens

Jane Eyre: The Writer’s Digest Annotated Classic (Amazon affiliate link)

This is for serious studiers only. Seriously, I only do this one when I’m in full battle mode (e.g., like when I was dissecting Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, so I could write about its brilliant techniques in Jane Eyre: The Writer’s Digest Annotated Classic).

This is where you’re going to want to divide your studying into a few more categories–one for each color of highlighter. Go through the book, highlighting appropriately, whenever you find an interesting passage. Write notes with abandon in the margins. Then, when you’ve finished, go through again and type up your notes, expanding on them to fully record your reactions and new knowledge.

I say this is only for serious studiers primarily because this is a fast track to interfering with reading-as-pure-pleasure (and also to making a mess of your paperbacks).

This is rigorous studying at its best and will require your full brain power. No reading-to-get-to-sleep when you’re doing this.

3. Break Down the Structure

The surest way to get a grasp on plot and story structure is by consciously breaking down the structure in books and movies–as I do regularly for the Story Structure Database. How do I do this?

Start with an easy shortcut: divide the total page count of a book or the total running time of a movie by eight. Why? Because the major structural moments happen at each eighth of the story:

1. Inciting Event (12%)

2. First Plot Point / End of the First Act (25%)

3. First Pinch Point (37%)

4. Midpoint / Halfway through the Second Act (50%)

5. Second Pinch Point (62%)

6. Third Plot Point / Beginning of Third Act (75%)

7. Climax (88%)

For movies, I use my handy dry-erase board notebook to note the approximate minute of each turning point, so I can easily watch the run time and take note of what’s happening.

For books, I use little Book Darts bookmarks to mark the appropriate page at each turning point.

This way, I’m not totally adrift within the story. I can watch the clock or the page count and know to be on the watch for the respective structural moment roundabout there.

This is a fabulous way to grasp story structure as a whole and, just as importantly, to understand how the various structural elements can manifest in vastly different ways from story to story.

You can study my many examples in the Story Structure Database.

4. Examine Your Reactions

Whenever you finish a story, give yourself a moment before rushing off to the next thing. Just sit there and think about your reactions to what you just experienced. Ask yourself:

How did the story make you feel?

What did you like about it?

What did you dislike?

Do you think it was an objectively good story?

Did you dislike it anyway? Why?

Do you think it was an objectively problematic or even bad story?

Did you like it anyway? Why?

Within the answers to these questions lies your greatest opportunity for growth as a writer. If you can distill your often nebulous feelings about a story down into logical facts about what made you feel that way, you will then be able to add other authors’ effective weapons to your own arsenal.

I use this technique after every story I read or watch. It’s where I get the ideas for fully half the posts on this site.

5. Transcribe the Prose

This trick is especially useful if you’re trying to crack the code of, not just great storytelling, but great writing. What is it about some authors’ prose that makes it sing so effortlessly and powerfully? The whole point of great prose is that it’s flawless: we’re not supposed to think about it, we’re not supposed to see the cracks where the pieces are joined together. If we saw the cracks, that would defeat the whole purpose.

As a result, simply reading great prose isn’t always the most effective way to learn how to write awesome prose of your own. What you need to do is sit down with a notebook and pen and a favorite book–and start transcribing passages. I recommend doing this longhand, with an actual pen, since this will slow you down and force you to think about and absorb each word and punctuation choice.

I used to do this every day, and it never failed to amaze me how it allowed me to suddenly see the building blocks the authors had used in crafting their prose. Their seemingly inimitable mastery of wordcraft was suddenly within my grasp. It was something I could learn–and that you can too!

Afraid Studying Will Ruin Your Reading? Don’t Be

Although you can learn from other authors, such as me, who break down stories and share what they’re learning in blogs and books, you’ll get more out of the experience by also doing it yourself. Start approaching your book reading and movie watching purposefully with an intent to logically identify and utilize the tools handed to you by authors you love.

But what if it ruins your reading and watching?

It’s true, it might. Some authors use these practices and find themselves growing hypecritical. But, frankly, it shouldn’t. The more I learn to identify how other authors are using the craft, the more I appreciate their stories. Give it a try. You’ll transform both your appreciation of stories in general and your own writing.