#i am at work and bored and this is something i'm trying to work on bc eos is a leatherworker (shes only level 28 tho dont @me

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 88)

Tera was with V and Lizzy, both of which were hanging around in V's apartment, in much, much closer proximity then they ever would be in public. With Lizzy's head laying on V's lap, and V's fingers carding through her long blonde hair, absent of any helmet or bow.

Tera was sitting on her chest, Lizzy playing with her in a gentle kind of way, lifting her hands up and playing with them as if she was a little doll, Tera was mostly fine with this, but she was quickly growing bored of it, wanting instead the gently swaying, glowing object that was the end of V's tail.

“Vee!” She called, lifting her arms up in the dissasembly drones direction, glasses perched in front of her visor as she was trying to watch whatever was on the T.V.

“What is it cub?” She hummed, and she couldn't help the small smile that was creeping up on her face, she had to admit, N and Uzi's little gremlin was cute as hell.

“Play!” Tera replied happily, smiling and showing off her many, sharp little teeth. Lizzy laughed lightly. “Oh am I not good enough for you? Am I boring?”

“Probably, you're treating her like she's going to break into tiny peices babe.” V replied, picking up the toddler into her own hands and grinning as her eyes followed her swaying tail.

“It's not my kid! You know Doorman would throw a fit if her kid got hurt while we were supposed to be watching her.” Lizzy defended, sitting up off her frei- okay yeah; girlfriends lap so she could get up.

“She's not going to get hurt. Watch.” V placed her on the carpeted floor of her living room, sitting down in front of her with her legs crossed. Tera's eyes lit up, and she attempted to stand;

V's and Lizzy’s eyes both grew hollow for a moment as she balanced on both legs, wobbly and unpracticed, she took a step forward and-

Tumbled over, close, but not quite.

“Do you know how pissed they'd be if Tera took her first steps in front of us and not them.” Lizzy laughed, crouched down next to V as Tera made her way towards them, this time crawling.

“Oh my god Uzi would blow a gasket! I almost hope she does, that would be hilarious!” V replied, smiling and laughing as well, until she felt Tera's tiny hands grab her, and she looked down.

She looked fierce- or as fierce as a toddler could get. Snapping her fangs and shoving on V's peg-like leg.

“What is she…?” Lizzy asked, clearly confused.

“She's trying to wrestle with me…” V suddenly realized, obviously, this wouldn't work, Tera was so small she couldn't even budge V's leg, but the attempt was adorable in it's own way, and V's tail began to wag.

Maybe when she was older, and bigger, they could genuinely play fight without V pretending, but for now… she was about to lose some dignity.

She let the little toddler move her leg some, and Tera grinned wildly, climbing up on V's lap and then trying to climb up the rest of her to reach her prize, the shiny, glowy, unbabyproofed tail.

Of course, neither V nor Lizzy were thinking about that yet. Instead, V was pretending to get beaten up by a toddler and Lizzy was watching fondly, giggling.

“Look at her! She's going to be a little tomboy isn't she?”

By the way Tera was mixing both growling and purring, smiling wide as V sprawled out in fake pain, the answer was yes. V began to laugh at the toddlers antics, it was fond, and soft, and Lizzy couldn't help but blush.

“You're being a great aunt V~” She cooed, and V went stiff, blushing a vibrant yellow as she looked back at the worker drone she was so fond of.

“Shut up. No I'm not.” She protests, sitting up, letting Tera tumble off her back with a peel of laughter, she was completely unharmed, even after she hit the floor with a thump.

“Oh come on girl. Don't lie! It's good to see you care about something other then murder.” Lizzy laughed, watching as Tera pounced after V's tail every time it hit the ground, like a lion cub playing with an older member of the pride.

“I care about you.” V mumbled. But Lizzy only allowed herself to blush at that for a moment before moving on.

“And you care about her. V, you're purring!”

V froze, listening to herself. Sure enough, she was. She rarely purred, and yet playing with this little toddler was bringing it out quite naturally, the only other times she purred, it was with Lizzy.

Dammit, she hadn't meant to get so attached to a kid that wasn't even hers, a kid that her initial reaction to was… not great, at best. But either due to her instincts, or the fact that Tera was just so dang cute, or both. She had.

She would throw herself at anything for this kid. Without question or hesitation.

“Fine! You're right! Are you happy? She's my niece! Agh-!” Tera claimed her prize, tiny fangs snapping onto golden nanite canister. V yelped in pain, N wasn't the only one with a sensitive tail.

“Oooh… you alright babe?” Lizzy asked gently, and V's head snapped back in anger, because… ow. Before it softened at the proud look on Tera's face, and sighed.

“Yeah, you got me.” She said softly, bringing her tail up into her lap, so that Tera would fall gently into it, giggling.

“You're my little hunter huh? Aren't you?” V cooed, lifting up her niece near her face; where Tera placed both her little hands on her visor, smiling.

“Vee! Rawr!” Tera laughed, and V felt her core melt into nothing but goo. Leaning back to stare at the ceiling with Tera now hugging the fur on her jacket.

I don't want kids. I don't want kids. I don't want kids.

“Are you okay? Did she break you?” Lizzy asked, her face coming in upside down from V's perspective.

“I'm an aunt. Lizzy… I'm a fucking aunt.”

Lizzy laughed, reaching down to grab both sides of her face.

“And are good with kids. Suffer with that knowledge, killer.”

V groaned, covering her face. Feeling Tera start purring as she laid there, content to stay with her auntie…

[necrotic-nephilim]

I’m here to bother you again!!!

You don’t have to if you don’t want to but maybe dark ship bingo with timjay or brudick????

hELLO i love being bothered by you this is delightful omg thank you, i would love to

Here is JayTim, I can't believe I only got one bingo for them. Ironically I genuinely don't view Jason and Tim as family, even when I'm not shipping them, I think they're tentative allies at best and you can only brother-ify them if you're doing very generously OOC fluff, a la WFA-style. They're absolutely toxic and codependent on each other's existence, Tim wouldn't exist without Jason and Jason is Undeniably Weird about Tim, but not brothers so I can't check off the familial squares. Also, I have no idea if I've been blocked by 10+ people, but it'd be funny if I am. And funnily enough, I don't think Tim or Jason are vanilla in any capacity even when they're not fucking. Especially not Tim, that boy is Certified Weird.

and ofc BruDick I nearly blacked out the whole board because they absolutely are weird and unwell. Some of these only apply to certain AUs of BruDick (like an idea I have rattling in my skull rn with Talon!Dick) but most of it applies to them all the time. I really need to write some fucked up BruDick, it's tragic I haven't yet. Right now the two fics I'm working on are a weird JayDick and a more fluffy DamiDick, but I have Plans™ for BruDick too. They are the OG and deserve their flowers for being the most toxic mess you've ever seen.

[captainnaustralia]

I just had top surgery! And I'm taking the entire month of June off of work so I can recover, so you know what that means...

NANOWRIMO: JUNE EDITION

[givemethaturl]

I took today and tomorrow off simply because I've been putting too many hours into work and wanted some time to rest...

And I'm fucking bored to shit. It's really great that my work is my passion, but I absolutely need to find other hobbies outside of reading and working out. I am seriously questioning taking my PTO day back tomorrow and just heading into the office.

That or prepping my class content for next semester (adjunct). I mean, I worked on two more LinkedIn learning courses today just to keep my mind going.

A complete juxtaposition, really, from my younger days where I couldn't fathom being a quarter as productive on a regular basis. The pendulum has totally over corrected. My coping mechanism to deal with the ADHD and Anxiety became to just never stop being productive, and it is sending me to an early death.

[plantenjoyer]

I SWEAR I KEEP TRYING TO DO ART BUT THEN SOMETHING GETS IN THE WAY AND THEN I PROCRASTINATE AND THEN SIX MONTHS PASS

[newwave-lesbian]

they really did just give me all of the dogshit mental illnesses, huh

[cappurrccino]

maybe i should try my hand at typesetting/bookbinding with my bang fic from last year... 🤔

[boxwinebaddie]

Miss Ninaa!! When are you free for the summer???

hello, sweetling! and good morning, good afternoon or good night wherever it is that you are. <3 regardless of the time of day, please just know that the world around you is brighter bc you're in it. c':

so i just want to start out by saying that i know i say this a lot...but i cannot tell you what it means to me that you guys care enough about me to be curious about the trajectory of my offline life.

...like, i really just have the sweetest anons in the world, huh? ;-;

i feel unbelievably blessed and count my lucky stars everyday because of each and everyone of you. thank you for being your lovely, lovely selves and caring not only about me as a person but my silly and strange au styles from hell.

speaking of, i am aware that it does not seem like it because of how sporadically i post ncu related content ( if at all ) but i am trying to work on some stuff...as you know well by now, i like to really take my time putting out my work because the quality of the content that you read is paramount to me. you are all far too near and dear to my heart to receive lame, rushed, unclear boof ass content from me.

like...i simply will not do it. thank you for your paitence.

( i will say that i am specifically working on an ask about the greenhouse kiss which AAAAAA giggling, twirling my hair and kicking my feet, like it is SOOOOO satisfying, holy shit! it's also very, very important to the plot which is why i have been taking my time on it. i do hope to put it out today but i am trying not to make promises that i can't keep, get your hopes and dreams up just to dash them and most unfortunately, i do not have a great track record in that regard. i know it's kind of a bummer...but i like to be honest w/ y'all. )

ANYWAYS!

without further ado, here's a little glimpse into my life. xx

again, thank you for asking...that is very cute of you. c': <333

( this is lengthy and lowkey irrelevant. you can absolutely skip this but i think that i am pretty informative in here, so it might be useful? idk. )

so actually, my summer is pretty busy and jam-packed for the most part! or, the first two months are, at least. because i decided to take on summer camp here at the school i work on! camp counsellor nina!

i decided to nab a summer camp supervising position for a couple of reasons. like, obviously, teaching does not pay that much, so really, i need to make all the money i can while i can. don't worry about me tho, guys. bc actually am doing extremely well for myself. <333

( i am a very lucky person, haha -- god nerfed me by being mentally ill, but did make me pretty and personable...which gets me far in life. on the topic of mental illness [ of which i am very ] today i should fare quite well bc other than having a mild headache and being lowkey naseous because my mood stabilizer has that side effect for me...it is worth it when i rem(ember) to take it because it makes me very calm and level, so i am better at responding to my asks/doing my tasks. )

another reason is it keeps me busy...when i am not constantly busy, i get very depressed and fall into gnarly sprials. my job has a lot of downtime and when i am not running around like crazy because a bunch of teachers are out, i'm bored as fuck and i get lazy or restless.

very lame...this summer, i will be looking for a different job ( fml, if you are my boss, don't read this ) and i am a bad procrastinator so i missed the deadline for a fuck ton of teaching positions, but hopefully i can find something in the realm of associate or assistant teaching because....lmao, point and laugh but i am still a little too nervous to teach a whole class by myself. if kids get disadvantaged academically because i am too incompetent at teaching, i will die.

but yeah...if i am still babysitting fourteen year olds after this ( they did grow on me, but it's really not my speed ) please also point and laugh because i would rather go back to retail...yes, i am desperate.

on the subject of teaching kids that are in my wheelhouse and doing stuff my speed, summer camp is actually all k-5 so i will FINALLY being doing a majority of my teaching in the age group that i have my literal credential in. YAY! it's going to be hot as shit where i am over the summer, probably also tiring as shit ( have you seen how little kids act in the summer? ) but i am so fkn exCITED to work with the littles HEEEEELLL YES, BROTHER! uncle nina will be Vibing! <333

so for the first four weeks i am doing general camp stuff, getting a feel for stuff and wokring with all the grade levels...but the LAST two weeks, i get to specifically associate teach in the kindergarten classroom and AAAAAAAA!!!!! I FKN LOVE THE KINDERS!!!!! i visit them every other day because, again, i am bored as shit and they need help over there so i usually hang out with them in PE and play hula hoop tag with them...rn they are learning how to jump rope. soooo stinking cute, oh my god.

-- BUT YES I AM SOOOOO FREAKING STOKED YOU GUYS LIKE I WAS MADE FOR THIS BROTHER. i am gonna wear so many crazy outfits and do such weird makeup pray it doesn't melt off my face.

also, during camp, they go on little field trips and things, hopefully swimming, ( uncle nina is mermaid nina ) and feed you the same stuff as the campers so i get to eat like a nasty frat boy and have pizza and pasta and stuff, which, let me tell you, i am genuinely stoked because they cater a free lunch for the faculty here everyday and it's supposed to be all fancy and shit...but there is a reason it's free because it is SOOOO mid. like it really is kind of ass. i don't know how they do that.

but, sigh, camp is only six weeks so i have to fill my time with other stuff ( also i guess that means in six weeks from when school is done on june...14th, i think? i am free? ) i hope to use that time to structure the fuck out of my life, planf or the future because i am hella bad at it and i hope to do a lot of writing! kind of a pipe dream at this point becaue all my stuff has been *british tolkien vc* actual shite and i can't finish anything...but maybe when i feel better, writing will come easier? when i am less busy and stressed? i hope so. and i hope you guys are still around if i am here but i Completely understand if you are not! it's been a long, bumpy ride. you did your dues and you are free to step off at any time. again, i do not blame you. i am annoying.

BUT YEAH! that's my summer for you! summer camp, hanging out with my cat ( her name is lily, she is very beautiful, very kind, very fluffy and dumb as rocks but she is my babygirl ), getting lots of sushi, going to the thrift store, doing self care stuff, doing less self harm in various odd forms specifically in the form of self sabotage, getting my life together and organized, finding a new job, bettering myself and the world, being kind, entertaining all of you and hopefully writing again! yay! i'll update you as much as i can.

and please, please, pleeeease update me on your lives! i know i don't always respond, but i read everything. my friend who won FIRST PLACE for her raven sculpture, I AM SO PROUD OF YOU BABY. my friends who unfortunately went through breakups, i am so sorry, please know it is their loss, you are stronger for it and i hope you heal, but if ravesey can...you can baby. also proud of my various friends going to college and my friends that are not! my friends toiling through their lame jobs and my friends who are dipping their toes in the world of creativity through writing, drawing expressing yourself! i love, love, LOVE you! thank you for sharing your lives with me.

( speaking of friends, i am specifically hoping to spend my summer bonding with my rant girlies and we made a little group chat and we are being so funny and chaotic and unhinged. i love them all so bad. )

BUT YEAH! thank you for asking my love! look out for some important in character asks, hopefully some finished or more distinguished writing and know that if i am not responding or posting, it is not because i lost interest...as you can see, i am very busy, especially as the school year approaches an end, my summer is a little busy, i fall into ugly manic/depressive cycles and am working on taking care of myself...offline. thank you for understanding.

and thank you for being here! you are troopers, forreal! you are angels and saints for putting up for me and enduring me never posting or posting really chaotic weird stuff. i love you. thanks for caring. <3

i love you and i hope you heal,

uncle nina, future ceo of glamour girl summer camp <3

P.S. i am specifically working on developing and post more about my other aus because i want to give you some variety and challenge myself to do stuff out of my comfort zone! so if you are excited at all about the tsot/tfbw nina stuff, please make some NOOOOISE! lol and if you are not i totally get it, but if you could give me gentility and grace, i would appreciate it because i'm insecure abt it. MWAH!

[wine-dark-soup]

there's something weird about the leatherworkers guild (and i'm not talking about their guildmaster). like ok ok i understand you're very strict because you MUST honor the lives of the animals you killed, so you MUST create only the best leather goods in creation. fine. that's a noble goal. but then you have so much orders you can't fulfill them all AND said orders are almost exclusively placed by foreign buyers which forces you to be a luxury brand to uphold your reputation. ALL OF THIS TO SAY, there's respecting the forest but also do you respect the people of gridania. who makes their shoes if you mostly sell your stuff to uldahn merchants

[a-lonely-dunedain]

must a fic "have plot progression" and "a pont"? is it not enough to simply have two guys talk about their feelings alongside a narrator prone to rambling for *checks notes* 6 pages and counting?

[kvnghs-archive]

hey hi i’m alive.  basically my job is sucking the life out of me because my manager is the worst manager to ever manager and needs to step away from her position before i end up stepping away from the job.  in turn i have replaced all my creativity with frustration and aggravation and have forgotten how to sit, unstressed, and write a single fucking sentence.

ANYWAY how has your day/week/month been?

[keeps-ache]

ah yiss. the golden garbage premium pass (free!)

[newwave-lesbian]

guys i think i might be able to get my old job back yayyyy that means money but also i am going to throw up and pass out and cry every day but that's normal

[bi-writes]

who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

[90sbee]

In my head I'm the one you come home to. You hug me and we have tea together. 

In my head I am your hero and I can kiss your forehead goodnight. 

In my head you look at me. In my head I had (have) a chance.