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tropes-and-tales-archives · 2 years

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Common Courtesy, Chapter Eleven

Word Count: 3211

TW: Angst; idiots in love; talk of PTSD and recover.

AN: Part of a series. The series masterlist here.

All told, you were out on leave for six weeks. Nick helped line up everything you needed to start recovering. Amanda gave you the details about the yoga retreat she attended when she needed help, and you left New York for two weeks. Costa Rica in September was certainly better than New York’s grey skies, and a change of scenery helped immensely.

Then Nick lined up Liv’s therapist for a referral and you came home to settle into the hard work of recovery. The problem? You started therapy for the shooting and the acute PTSD that came from it, but there was so much more under the surface. It was like stirring up the bottom of a pond: suddenly everything was murky, and the more your struggled against it, the less clear everything became.

While on leave, you went to therapy every other day and support groups twice a week. You tried an art therapy group, but you hated making endless collages from pictures cut from old magazines, so you dropped it. You got a prescription for anxiety medication, hesitated to fill it, then ultimately did.

Part of your therapy was addressing your inability to ask for or accept help. You got someone to fill in at your self-defense classes in the Bronx for a month, until you felt stable enough to return. You ran in the mornings, long stretches along the river that left you physically drained by the end of them. You found that being exhausted in your body made therapy easier – you didn’t have the energy to fight the words your therapist kept repeating to you: that it wasn’t your fault, that you deserved to be alive.

Much of the silt that therapy stirred up came from the deep pools of your past. Your mother abandoning you, leaving you with nothing but your first name. Never having a father. Never have a blood family. Shifting from home to home, some only for a few days. Others where you stayed long enough to get attached. A time in a group home when there were no foster families. The open houses where prospective parents came and met available children. Getting passed over every time, because you were too old or too sullen, not smiling bright enough.

How you wrapped yourself in layers, so many that no one could get through them all. Lonely in college, not able to connect with your roommates because they moved in with parents who helped them unpack and hugged them and cried when they left them. Roommates who moved in with new bedding and mini-fridges and matching luggage. You didn’t even have that – every time you were shifted to a new foster home, your stuff would be tossed in any cheap duffel bag available. Sometimes when you moved, your clothes were packed in plastic bags.

Recruited straight from MIT by an FBI supervisory agent with a knack for snatching up geniuses. But you were lonely there too – your work was grueling. Constant travel, no time to make connections. Sometimes you grabbed drinks with them, and you went to karaoke sometimes with the women on the team. You tracked and caught some of the worst monsters to walk the earth, but there was always another, lurking in the shadows.

Then your recruitment to NYPD. You had impressive experience for someone so young, and Cragan had wanted someone with your pedigree to help with behavioral analysis and victimology. You made tentative strides there – Liv was your training partner, and you felt comfortable around her. You were then paired with Amaro, and that grew into something like a brother and sister relationship. You were friendly with Amanda, you joked with Fin. But none of them knew much about you other than the very surface. You never let them in.

“You need to reach out a hand,” your therapist told you, “if you want someone to take hold.”

So when you were cleared to return to active duty, you decided to start being more open with them. To maybe reach out a hand.

Your first day back felt awkward, but you had expected that. It was Fin that finally broke the uncomfortable throat-clearing and paper-shuffling when you walked in.

“You look good,” he said, coming over to give you a quick hug. “I was expecting you to come back with a dramatic new haircut.”

“Why is that?” you asked, cocking your head in confusion.

“Isn’t that what people do when they go through it? Look in their own eyes in a mirror and then cut off all their hair?” You laughed at him, surprised. He ran his hand over his own close-cropped head. “Guess I’m constantly going through some shit then.”

You tossed your head and threw your hair over your shoulder as if you were in a shampoo commercial. “Same old hair,” you teased. “Same old me.”

Amanda walked over and hugged you. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Nick grinned from his desk and stood up. “You’re looking good.”

You ducked your head with an embarrassed smile. “What’d I miss?”

Fin and Amanda both laughed as Nick filled you in. “Just a mayoral candidate. He sent Rollins a dick pic in a honey-trap we set up. Turns out, he likes sending them to teen girls too.” He hesitated and looked at you before adding, “He’s friends with Barba.”

Rollins rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and you missed several dick-measuring contests between Nick and Barba too. Everyone’s been traumatized.”

“Ah,” you said, keeping your face neutral. You knew you’d have to face it sooner or later. Barba hadn’t called or texted since your nervous breakdown, although you didn’t blame him. You’d pushed him away, but it wasn’t meant to be anyway. You took a deep breath and settled yourself, conjuring up what your therapist would say. It was just part of life, a moment running its course. You and Barba had fun, and it ran its course.

Liv came out of the captain’s office and called you in to talk for a moment. You chatted for a bit about your leave and your therapist. She tilted her head in sympathy. You knew she understood. The William Lewis case had put her through the ringer too. You thought about it - Amanda had trauma in her past from her old job in Atlanta PD, and Fin was almost killed by a gas trap years ago when a murderer was on the run. Even Nick, with his abusive father, dealt with those murky waters that kept clarity difficult to attain. You weren’t as alone as you felt. Maybe you were all reaching out and trying to grab hold of each other.

Since the case against mayoral candidate Alex Munoz was already in process, she assigned you a case to work on alone. It was a softball of a case, just something to ease you back in. You snorted when you read the initial complaint. A subway masturbator. Bush league stuff, but you settled in to solve it.

It took two days of scanning security footage at Port Authority. You found the man and discovered that he boarded the same train at the same station every day. It was easy enough to follow him onto the subway car and wait. Two stops in, he was settled into a corner seat, a copy of the Times tented over his frenetically spasming hand as he leered at women.

You took the case to ADA Rose Calliar, per Liv’s instructions. Barba’s docket was full. Rose took the case file from you with a bemused grin.

“This the subway masturbator?” she asked. “Isn’t this below your paygrade, detective?”

You shook your head and made yourself look grim. “He’s a serial – multiple reports on this guy. Since I’m the one who hunted him down, I get to name him for when this hits the press. How does ‘the Crosstown Cranker’ sound?”

Rose laughed, then snapped the file shut. She stood up and led you out of her office. “I’ll plead it down, but hopefully it’ll send a lesson for him to keep it at home.” She walked you to the elevator bank. She paused, her smile fading.

“I heard all about the shooting,” she said. “I’m glad to see you back.” The elevator door opened and you stepped on it, holding the door for a moment.

“Thank you, counselor. I’m glad to be back too.” You tipped your head at her and the doors shut. The elevator car stopped at every floor on its way down, and people climbed on and off at each. Then a familiar face entered the elevator.

“Detective,” Carmen said. She sounded surprised, but she smiled broadly. “You’re back!”

You grinned back at the woman. Carmen was always a calm, steady presence in Barba’s office and the two of you had a good rapport as a result. “It’s good to see you,” the assistant added.

“Same to you,” you replied. “Lunch break?”

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “You know Barba doesn’t give me lunch breaks. It’s a coffee run, the third one today already. He’s been putting in the hours for the past month. I don’t even think he goes home. Just works and drinks coffee and barks when he can’t find the file that is right in front of him.”

Your stomach flipped at the mention of Barba, but you repeated to yourself – part of life, ran its course. Part of life, ran its course. Your new mantra.

The elevator reached the ground floor and you walked out with Carmen. When you went to part ways, she turned to you. She slapped you playfully with the back of her hand. “Don’t be a stranger. At the very least, stop by to say hi. Barba was much nicer when you were around.”

You cleared a couple more softball cases alone, then helped the team catch up on routine paperwork while they wrapped up on building the case against Munoz. Liv and Nick were in Albany to question a former adult video performer and wouldn’t be back until late. Fin and Amanda were already gone. You thought about Carmen’s words. You had to face Barba eventually, and you had talked about it briefly with your therapist. It was best to do it on your terms, so you checked the time and gathered up your stuff. You made your way over to Hogan Place, but first you stopped at the coffee shop that he probably kept afloat on his business alone. You bought a peace offering and went up to his office.

The floor was quiet. Most of the offices were dark, but the one you were walking towards had a light spilling from under the half closed door. You smiled. You knew he’d be there, even so late in the evening.

As you drew closer, you realized he wasn’t the only one there. You heard another voice along with his, low and murmuring. You couldn’t make it out, but you gave the doorjamb a gentle knock and stepped through the partially open door.

You saw her first, the tall woman standing beside Rafael. Your knock had clearly startled them and they both turned to face you. They stood close together. Barba had his suit jacket off, his sleeves partially turned up. His black suspenders gaped a bit across his belly. He had lost weight, and his face was thinner and more drawn. You felt your own stomach twist painfully at the sight of him.

The woman was gorgeous. Her heart-shaped face was perfectly framed by her thick black hair, and her makeup was perfectly applied. She wore a gold evening gown that perfectly hugged her curves. She looked you up from head to toe; she turned to Barba and asked, “¿Y está quién es? ¿Qué hace aquí?”

You felt the blood drain out of your face, and your refused to look Barba in the eye. “Lo siento.” You held up the cup of coffee, then sat it on the bookshelf by the door. “Discúlpenme,” you said, gesturing at it vaguely. You heard Barba give a huff of laughter at you, and you held back the tears that sprung to your eyes. He had already moved on with some beautiful woman and he was laughing at you. You turned on your heel and fled.

*****

When you walked in on Barba and Yelina, you had interrupted a furiously whispered argument. Yelina had visited under the pretense of a social call, but her intentions became quickly apparent. When Barba tried to explain that he couldn’t stop the wheels of justice, she turned angry, as she always did. She accused him of being a sell-out, of being jealous of Alex. Then you had knocked and stepped into the office and Barba felt the wind get punched out of him.

You looked great. It was a far cry from the last time he had seen you, huddled and silent on your couch the day after the shooting. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes were bright. Until he saw them look from him to Yelina and back. He knew that look, the one where the gears in your head were turning. He saw you putting together a working theory. Shit, he thought.

Of course Yelina had been rude, asking him who you were and why you were there in Spanish like you weren’t even there. But you had surprised him by responding in Spanish, and then apologizing in Spanish. And the coffee you had apparently brought him as an apology - that you plunked down on his shelf. He had snorted at the expression on Yelina’s face. His ex likely wasn’t expecting the gringuita to understand her, let alone answer her. He saw the ripple of emotion that crossed your face before you scurried out of his office. Shit, he thought again.

He wondered if he should call you, but you hadn’t reached out and he didn’t want to bother you. He hoped that he could see you at work and maybe have at least a cordial relationship. If nothing else, he missed the old days, when you and Amaro marched into his office and you served as a referee. Or when you were in the courtroom behind him, lending your support during trial. Or when he rounded the corner to enter the bullpen, and the first sight he saw was your head bent over your desk, your neck curving as you studied files or wrote out reports. He knew the two of you could never go back to those days, but at least back then, he had a small piece of you. Now he had nothing.

You ducked him. You had small cases and usually took them to Calliar. You had a few cases for Cox too. None for him. When he came to the precinct, you always found a reason to be somewhere else, usually in the break room or the records room a few floors up.

He saw your picture one morning in the paper. NYPD had held its award ceremony, and you had been given a commendation for your actions in the shooting at Sacred Heart. He stared at the picture: you in your dress blues, your hair pinned up under your hat, one gloved hand on the plaque and the other hand shaking with the commissioner. For the first time in his life, Barba understood the appeal of a person in uniform. He kept the newspaper in the top drawer of his desk so that he could look at it. He bought a copy for his desk at home too. If you were going to dodge him, at least he could have a picture of you.

He finally saw you one evening. He stopped by to drop off a subpoena for Liv. You were leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with an audible yawn. He stood back and watched you as you stood up and put on your coat. When you turned around, you jumped a bit, startled by his sudden appearance.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you replied.

“Congratulations on the commendation.”

Your cheeks turned a bit pink. “Thanks.”

Then Liv interrupted, and by the time he was done walking her through the subpoena, you were already gone.

*****

Your life hit a routine: running, work, and therapy. And sleep. You were starting to finally sleep without dreams. Then life threw a curve ball.

Nick, your partner who tended to punch his way into trouble, was arrested after assaulting a photographer. The creep was suspected of collecting kiddie torture porn. It was a case they worked while you were on leave. So life became running, work, and therapy. And trips to Rikers to visit Nick while he waited for word of what would happen to him.

Liv finally got her request for a new detective approved, so she used it as an opportunity to shift everyone around. You and Fin were paired up, and Amanda got the new guy. Since Fin was the most senior detective, it made sense. Amanda could train the newest addition, and when Nick came back, you could pair back up with him. Fin could serve as a floater or Liv’s number two, as necessary.

You were happy to be partnered with Fin. He was unflappable, a cool head in nearly all situations. It was nice to work with a calm partner for once instead of having to be the calm one. You were looking forward to being the bad cop for once, you thought jokingly. A proper wild card. Maybe you could take up smoking next, buy a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. Amanda, however, was less happy.

“Why do you get to steal my partner?” she complained. She was mostly joking, but not completely. “I’m the second-most senior detective, so by all rights, you should be training the new guy.” She was perched on the edge of your desk, waiting for him to arrive. You were all milling around and pretending to work. A new detective was an event.

“Liv is probably playing Cupid,” you joked. Amanda scoffed at you.

He walked in ten minutes ahead of his start time. He was lanky, and he wore a suit that was half a size too big for him. His dark blond hair was slicked back tight to his skull, and it curled at the back of his neck. He had bright blue eyes, a big mustache set over his smile, and he shifted the bag in his hand as he introduced himself. “I’m Dominick Carisi Junior,” he said, shaking everyone’s hands. “But call me ‘Sonny’ – everyone does.” He had a thick Staten Island accent, and he jiggled the bag at each of you in turn. “My ma makes the best zeppole. Have one.”

You humored him and took a pastry, then walked over to Amanda. You leaned over and whispered, “Enjoy training your new partner.” You looked over at him, considering his awful mustache and knew Amanda was judging him for it too. “At least he’ll be good for UC work when we need a convincing-looking creep.” She laughed and smacked you on your arm, and you both returned to your desks to start the day.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes-and-tales

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chemicalfics · 4 years

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Hi! can I get BEN headcanons with and without s/o if you can ^^

hii of course this is my first request ever! <3

ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄ ben with and without a s/o ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

• so starting off without a s/o he’s definitely more refined and bottles up his fears and emotions

• yes he’s very talkative and energetic on the outside but he’d never be able to express what’s going on in his mind to just anyone

• he tried talking to jeff out of desperation but he just slammed the door in his face

• i feel like his thoughts run a mile a minute, he’s constantly over thinking things or dwelling on things in his past that he shouldn’t.

• so when he does have a s/o you better believe he would rant to you for anything!

• he probably likes to lay between his s/o’s legs cuddled up to them just talking about things that are on his mind. (play with his hair he loves it!)

• when he’s single i feel like his room would be a bit messy but he’s not a disgusting guy, he just can’t help it because his computer takes up most of his time

• his bed is probably not made and he has plushies from video games or anime’s sprawled around. he probably doesn’t need sleep but a bed might give him a sense of being at least a bit normal.

• definitely has energy drink cans and paper balls of scrap paper thrown around

• he also probably doesn’t need to eat or drink but his vibe just screams monster energy drinks to me

• when his s/o comes around he definitely feels the need to just make his room more presentable for them

• he tries to make it as comfortable for them as possible, he sets his led lights to a chill blue and fills up a mini fridge with things his s/o likes to eat or drink

• ben is constantly seeking validation but not in a bad or cocky way he just likes when you tell him he’s a really good boyfriend

• he’s been hurt in his past and although when around the other pastas he can come off as a bit arrogant his anxiety gets the best of him

• when he’s having bad mental health problems he shuts himself out, staying in his room alone for hours or even days

• very early on in the relationship the first time his s/o showed care to him and sought out to help him feel better it was like a flip switch in his brain

• poor bby never felt so loved before!

• usually he can’t talk about certain things with the other pastas like video game releases, opinions on games or characters and even on certain anime’s because they shut him out

• well sally listens but she’s like 8 and can’t relate to him

• oh boy is he blessed to have his s/o in his life..

• i can imagine he goes through all of his merch and as i mentioned above he has plushies and figures on a shelf on his wall just telling his s/o about them (that’s if they don’t know much about the topic!)

• if his s/o is knowledgeable on video games and his interests ben would probably try to debate with them if they have an opposing opinion on a certain topic.

• “but y/n! that makes no sense! do you know anything about animal crossing lore?”

• it sounds like he gets upset but he’s not mad at his s/o, he really appreciates the company cause it gets lonely.

ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄ i hope this was good enough! wrote this in a virtual class! ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

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dream-wreck · 4 years

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Count On Me

If you want the RosaWatts fics, you gotta write the RosaWatts fics.

AO3

Title: Count on Me Rating: G Word Count: 1,425 Description: Eva tries to be there for Neil in the ways she can, but there's only so much you can do for a friend who refuses your help.

.....

To calm herself down, Eva would count anything. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as she started from zero and worked her way up. It was usually as simple as that. She counted the scrapes and smudges on the off-white linoleum while Neil puked on the other side of the third floor bathroom door.

There were several dark streaks left by rubber shoe soles. Fifty-two. There were fifty-two smudges on the surrounding eight tiles alone. A maintenance cart had made a mark that stretched nearly the entire length of the hall. Eva wondered: should the long streak count for more than one? Neil spat into the toilet three times.

The men’s restroom went awfully quiet for twenty-eight seconds. Leaning against the door, Eva listened for any reason not to kick it down. Faintly, she heard Neil exhaling, long and slow, catching his breath. He sniffed once.

“Let me know what I can do,” she called in.

“Got all I need right here,” Neil answered. “Water, breath mints, a little window. I could last for days.”

Eva rubbed tiny circles into her temple. “Just let me know.”

“You know,” Neil huffed, “there’s something to be said of this. Hanging around while I literally spill my guts --”

The rest was lost to violent retching. There was a red mark near the wall and a blue streak of permanent marker. Lord knows how that got there. Neil coughed thirteen times.

“What do you think it was?” Eva asked.

“Uh…” The toilet flushed.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Just something I ate, probably.”

That wasn’t right. Neil had a garbage disposal for a stomach. Eva knew, though, that she wouldn’t get anywhere contradicting him outright.

She seated herself outside of the men’s bathroom to rest her legs, listening to the water run for one minute. She’d been on her feet all day, running reports back and forth. It had been a day of workplace housekeeping with little real excitement until Neil burst from his office, peckish and panicked, and rushed down the hall like the devil was close behind. It wasn’t the excitement Eva had hoped for.

“How about you go home early today?” she suggested.

The water shut off. “Nah. Day’s almost over.” Neil pulled four paper towels from the dispenser.

“Exactly,” Eva said. “You’ll only miss a few hours that you can make up tomorrow. No harm done.”

“Nah,” Neil said.

“You’ve got plenty of sick leave saved up.”

Something rattled on the other side of the door. Neil gently screwed the pill bottle lid back on. The sink ran again.

“Tylenol probably isn’t the best thing to pop, Neil,” Eva called. “You’ll want to try and eat something with those or you’ll just keep feeling sick.”

She assumed that’s what it was. Neil kept his office drawer stashed with an unholy arsenal of over-the-counter pain relievers for the headaches that usually followed an all-nighter. Honestly, it was a miracle his stomach was still intact at all. He functioned exclusively off a diet of black coffee and little white pills. He kept his mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with energy drinks and ice packs. The only reason Eva didn’t worry more than she probably should have was because she knew Neil, and had for a long time. That’s just who he was: a terrifyingly stable imbalance of Redbull and Advil. She was convinced that it was the only reason (beside her help, of course) that he’d gotten through college.

Neil didn’t respond. A thick silence filled the space. Beneath the weight of her own overbearance, Eva returned her attention to the floor.

The women’s bathroom door was four tiles away from the men’s. The nearest fluorescent tube light (the horrid things...) flickered in a series of five irregular beats before steadying out, but it always flickered in fives. There were two exit signs in this hallway.

She’d never noticed the dimensions of the hallway before: eight tiles wide. It wasn’t important. It didn’t spark any epiphany. But now that she knew that the third floor hallway was eight tiles wide, Eva would never forget it. Now, every morning when she stepped off the elevator and walked down to her office, she’d notice the eight tile width and think about Neil puking his guts out, this terrible waiting game, and how the color had completely gone from his face when he finally emerged.

Rosa and Neil had known each other for twenty-five years. They’d met in the first grade. She was seven; he was six. They’d had a total of eleven classes together through high school. Neil was in and out of detention for minor disruptions while Eva only ever got detention once. That was in the tenth grade. Carson Adams had hit Neil three times. Eva hit Carson once. It was enough.

In college, the longest Neil had gone without sleep was fifty-six hours to study for his entrance exams. He snuck in a three hour nap before his first test. He never once got physically ill.

Eva rose to her feet while Neil took a moment to clean his glasses on the end of his lab coat.

“Please hold all disapproving and-or disconcerted expressions until I have regained the gift of sight,” Neil said. He slipped the frames back onto his face, flashing a smile and wiggling his fingers with a magician’s flair. “Ta da!”

Looking up at him, Eva crossed her arms. “Truly remarkable. Now go home.”

Neil shrugged. “A new stack of maintenance reports just came in. I’m stuck here, same as everyone else.”

“Do them tomorrow,” Eva pressed. “You look terrible.”

Neil pressed a hand to his heart, shaking the pills in his pocket. “Thank you, I’m touched. I’ll write that one in my diary tonight.”

Turning on a heel, he gave a halfhearted wink and started for his office. Eva followed close at his shoulder. She didn’t like that he hadn’t really, truly looked her in the eyes yet today.

“Cut that out. Seriously. Take the extra hours to see your doctor.”

Without missing a beat, Neil stopped so suddenly, they collided shoulders. “Dr. Rosalene, I’m flattered, but that would be completely unprofessional -- “

Scoffing, Eva marched on. If he wasn’t going to take this seriously, fine. She wouldn’t press any further.

“I’m kidding! Come on, Eva. Eva!” Neil ran after her at first, his rubbers heels striking the linoleum, but he settled for matching her walking pace.

“You don’t get sick, Neil,” Eva said, looking straight ahead.

Neil steadied his breathing. “Just something I ate. You know the cafeteria salads can be utterly rancid.”

They stopped between their two office doors. Eva’s hung wide open; Neil’s was locked. Even in the scramble, he had time to pull his door shut.

“Just take it easy,” Eva said. “Eat something with...whatever it is you’re taking.”

“Tylenol,” Neil affirmed.

“Drink lots of water,” Eva said.

Neil pulled an office key from his pants pocket. “Right.”

“Go to bed early.”

“Mhm.” Neil unlocked the door.

“Don’t mix pills and Monster. Actually, just skip the Monster today.”

“I will make no such promises,” Neil smirked. He gave a little wave and a tight-lipped grin before disappearing behind yet another door.

He left Eva in the hallway. She’d always been certain that if Neil needed to talk to her about anything, he would in his own way, because he always had, though they’d usually waste ample time beating bushes.

But those conversations always came about only after a little prodding on Eva’s part. And given the reminder that there was someone in his life who wanted to listen and wanted to help in any way they could, his guarded soul would, in its own time, open naturally to the daunting prospect of vulnerability. Eva just wished he’d get on with it already.

She took a slow breath. In his own time, always. Knowing Neil for so long had certainly made her far more patient than (she believed) she would have been otherwise. It was a good thing. A very good thing. She’d learned to take matters a little slower than she often wanted. Even so, she had an inexplicable sense of being on the clock, fighting a quiet countdown, which she attributed up to a desperate desire to see her friend well again.

She left that for another time. Dr. Eva Rosalene stepped into her office and faced a more immediate task -- the mountain of paperwork awaiting her return -- failing to overhear the faint jingle of pills tumbling from their bottle into Dr. Neil Watts’ shaking hand.

#to the moon fandom rise up #to the moon #finding paradise #neil watts #eva rosalene #rosawatts #fanfiction #to the moon fanfiction #finding paradise fanfiction #drug use #vomiting

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myautisticpov · 6 years

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How do you get writing done in the middle of autistic burnout? I’m in the middle of burnout right now and I really want to write but I’m struggling to do the most basic of things

^^ I hope you’re ready for a very long list of tips because getting writing done is, like, the one thing I have down to a fine art. That and building spreadsheets...

1) Routine

If you can build writing every day into your routine, it will make it easier to do. There are a lot of conflicting feelings on “write every day” as writing advice - and I agree that if the inability to do it ever discourages you from writing, you should give the advice a hard pass - but the benefit is that if you’re writing every day, you can just write a little and still get somewhere.

2) 4thewords.com

I have been using this site since January last year. It’s basically an online RPG but you play it by writing. All of the monsters require you to defeat them by writing a certain number of words in a time limit, and then they drop the loot you need to complete story quests. You also get rewards for writing a minimum of 444 words every day. It really helps me to stay motivated with my writing.

3) Write or Die

Write or Die is another bit of software to get you to write. You set a word count and a timer, and you can set it to wither reward you at certain intervals or to punish you if you slow down. I set it to 1000 words in 25 minutes and have it show me a picture of Grumpy Cat and start deleting my words if I pause for too long.

4) Dictation Software

This requires more editing than typing, depending on which software/microphone you use, but it means that you can just tell your story aloud, which can be easier if you have an easier time speaking than typing. For me, I swing between my hand pain being bad enough that I struggle to type and not being verbal enough to speak.

5) Type on Your Phone

I sometimes use Google Keep on my phone to type up scenes when I’m in bed. Because I usually have my phone on me, it’s a pretty low-energy way to get a few hundred words down.

6) Plotting

Omg, plotting is vital! If you have a detailed enough outline before you start typing, it gets rid of the “I don’t know how to start” executive dysfunction problems. Typically, I sketch a very vague outline of a book and then fill it in with a lot of detail like so:

They arrive at Jessica's house

It's nice and cosy and Amy wonder how she managed to afford it and the small business she set up, remembering how little money Jess had when Amy was younger

Nightingale is there to meet them

Amy is glad to see her older cousin, though she can't help but note how calm and serene she is

Nightingale jokes when she brings it up, saying that she's just really into yoga

Nightingale helps her to unpack and asks if Amy is nervous about going to school the next day

Amy says that she isn't, determined to make that the truth through sheer willpower

Then when I come to actually type out the scene, I know exactly where it’s going and it’s a lot easier. I’d recommend the book Take Off Your Pants by Libbie Hawker on the topic.

7) Be Self-Indulgent In Your Writing

Write what you want to write, don’t let yourself get bogged down with ‘but it’s too silly, other people won’t like it’. Write what interests you and forget the rest. If it’s actually a problem, it can be fixed in editing, but I’ve found that trying to reign myself in to what I think other people want hurts my writing more than anything else.

8) Write Multiple Projects at Once

This is a one that other people often disagree with - and I do think that if you’ve never completed a project before, you should just knuckle down and try and get one done, even if it’s just a novelette or novella, to prove to yourself that you can complete a project - but I’ve found that having multiple projects in the works at once allows means that I can focus on writing what I’m in the mood for. Like, I haven’t hit my wordcount today by far and it’s almost 10pm, and I’m probably going to solve this issue by writing a project that won’t be published until 2020 at the earliest. But hey, then I will have less to write in 2020.

9) You Don’t Have To Be At Your Desk

No, seriously, that’s what the phone thing is about. And also I have dictated from my bed more than a few times. I know authors who dictate while going for walks and I have used my phone to write on the bus more than a few times. I also know that a lot of people have bought devices like the AlphaSmart Neo, which is a handheld that just lets you type into a text document and the screen only lets you see a few lines at a time, so you’re not tempted to go back and edit.

10) Taking Care of Your Body

Look, everyone hates this advice, I hate this advice, but I also know that writing is harder if I forget to take my iron tablets, so... Make sure you’re taking meds if you’re on them, you’re taking vitamins if they’re not in your diet, and idk some water probably wouldn’t hurt once in a while. I have a kettle next to my desk so that I can make tea to keep myself hydrated and a mini-fridge to keep me fed.*

11) Take Care of Your Sensory Needs

That kettle? Also because I heat stim. And I have stimmy music that I play when I work. Usually the soundtracks to special interest things.

12) 5,000 Words Per Hour by Chris Fox

This book has a lot of good stuff in it surrounding how to get in the zone, and I generally recommend it to anyone who has trouble concentrating on stuff because a lot of the stuff can also be applied to school work and stuff.

13) Writer Fuel™

If all else fails, get a mug and add:

- 1 tsp chilli powder (I use the hot stuff)- 1/2 tsp cayenne powder- 15g dark chocolate- 1 tsp vanilla syrup- 1-2 tsp instant coffee (I use instant espresso powder...)- A dash of cinnamon

And then add hot milk (I use almond milk), mix, and drink. It usually kicks me into high gear when I need it. As a bonus, pick a video game with short levels and play one while you drink/wait for it to kick in. Video games get your brain into DOING THINGS mode. I like Darkest Dungeon, racing games, or Jedi Academy for this.

*My bedroom office set-up if you’re interested in just how much I keep to-hand to make sure I’m not losing brain-functioning to having to leave my room for anything but the loo:

#food cw #long post #nospoonsgiven

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ferrisnotbueller · 6 years

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HIS WAREHOUSE SPACE...

Ferris occupies a room on the top level. It’s not hidden whatsoever, and you’re practically in his territory the moment you step up the stairs. His mattress on the group is always unmade and covered in white sheets and a white duvet. He always has a couple of books, some pens, and, of course, charges on end tangled in his thick covers. He rarely sleeps under the covers, or even in his bed, he can usually be found cat-napping under or on top of his desk, in the dining room downstairs, or on the couch in the farthest corner of his room. He doesn’t keep a bedside table, but he has a few vintage fruit crates lining the walls next to his bed - all of which are filled to the brim with random books he’s picked up. They’re mostly genetic study books and psychology novels, but there’s a few good fictional pieces added into the mix. He’s especially a sucker for Nancy Drew novels and Stephen King books. He has one rug under his bed, which is coated in old cans of Monster Energy Drinks, and old stains. He found it at a Goodwill and thought it had some classic charm; the rug is a braided, brown rug that has some holes in it. Most of the holes are covered from being placed under the bed.

On the wall next to his bed he keeps several different diplomas from his past. His doctorate, his masters, and his bachelors, all lined up in a pretty, straight line. They say his full name, but he could care less. He likes to look at them and imagine the scenarios of what could have been if he hadn’t have chosen Reato. Some nights, when he really can’t fall asleep at all, he’ll stare awake at them for hours.

On top of his crate-bookshelf, Ferris has placed more energy drink cans, and there are a random assortment of notebooks. He keeps a Kikkerland retro alarm clock next to the clutter, and has it set for random times he knows he needs to be awake for. The sound it makes is shrill and overly loud, but since he’s in an open space the echo muffles the sound quite a bit. On the walls around his open space, he has plastered several calendars and information cork-boards to keep track of his ideas and dates. If someone walked into his room, they might think a reclusive, conspiracy-theorist lived there instead of a criminal genius. He also has a small, plastic trash bin in one corner that is rarely changed. The mice and rats like to dig into the empty bags of chips and candy, as well as the useless pieces of paper he has kept.

He has a single wood desk, under his window. It holds the most clutter out of every other area of his room. It’s filled to the brim with notebooks, his laptop and desktop, his pens and highlighters, as well as more makeshift shelves for the remainder of his books. The windowsill is lined with empty coffee cups he was too lazy to take down, and one or two house plants to give it more of a homely feeling.He read somewhere that taking care of plants has a positive correlation to increases in happiness, but so far he hasn’t really been taking care of the plants. He always has something going on with his desk, and if someone was to move a single thing it’d leave Ferris absolutely devastated. Although it looks chaotic and unorganized, he has a method to his madness. One of the desk drawers is a stash for his newest collections of snacks and candy. If you’re looking for something to chew on, Ferris has got quite a few snacks stashed away.

WHERE YOU’LL FIND HIM...

The window next to his bed leads out to the roof of the warehouse, and is almost always open (except during the nights that he actually falls asleep). He has also set up a napping place on the roof. He moved a couple of blankets up there and set up a tent and pillows to sleep in on nights when his room feels too closed in. Sometimes during the day he’ll even move his work up there, so he can have a more productive working space. The roof is his favorite location in the warehouse. Although it’s bare, it’s fairly quiet and it’s got a beautiful view of the rest of Las Vegas. If the view of the inside of the warehouse is trash, the view from the outside is pure gold.

Ferris keeps a couple of his notebooks in his little tent, as well as some more of his snack stash. Any of the snacks he takes up to the roof are left unopened to avoid any kind of bug problem in the tent. He may be uncaring towards the clean condition of the room, but for the roof he’s very diligent about how tidy it is.

His second favorite space is the kitchen, he loves to sit atop the counters and eat his assortment of cereal.

You might catch him in the garage when he has no other place to go. It’s not his favorite spot, but it can be a quiet work place. He’s interested in the several cars stashed inside, and always wonders how Reato got the money to invest in the cars. He chose to store more of his drinks in the mini-fridge located in the corner of the garage. He counts them every night before he goes back up to his room to ensure that not a single one will be stolen without his knowing.

WHERE YOU WON’T FIND HIM...

He tends to stay away from both the main office and the dining room. Both spaces are where he has the hardest time focusing, and where everything feels the most uncomfortable. He is only in either room if there is an important meeting that has to occur. Otherwise, he tries to stray from going into either room longer than to pass through.

He is also rarely in the parking lot or outside of the warehouse. He chooses to spend his time inside his own room or on the roof, mainly. He doesn’t make too many trips into the outside world. It’s just an extra thing to add onto his already never-ending mental to do list.

HIS WAREHOUSE HABITS...

His diet consists of coffee, Monster Energy Drinks, Redbull, Sour Patch Kids, Snickers, frozen pizza, soft pretzels, barbecue chips, dill pickles, and macaroni + cheese.

He leaves his glasses around the warehouse randomly, and probably has to replace them consistently because people always step on them.

The way you can tell if Ferris has been in a room is if there are empty bags/cans left behind his, his glasses, his laptop, or whatever book he is reading. He usually forgets items behind in rooms that he exits.

His nap-times can get pretty hectic and unscheduled, but usually you’ll catch him napping on his tiny couch from 5am-7am, on his rooftop lounge from 12pm-3pm, on his desk from 4:30pm-5pm, and on his bed from 1am-3am.

Will wake up if anyone walks into the room, or even whispers, while he’s sleeping.

He has a jar titled “Trip Fund” that he adds a dollar to every single day (sometimes more). He hopes that it will add up to be enough for the next time he skips out on town.

He does not have any social media, and only keeps a burner phone so he can keep track of his fellow Reato members. He also has an email, but it’s got a highly cryptic username that couldn’t trace back to him.

He rarely gets drunk, but when he does he becomes the next Aristotle.

Wipes off his diplomas every fucking day, bro.

Makes random information boards around the warehouse. There is probably a few Dermot Valentine boards randomly located in the kitchen.

Catch him running random experiments with no relationship to Reato’s goals. He might be in the kitchen extracting strawberry DNA or in the garage trying to find a method for gas saving.

He never cleans up after himself (woops).

He leaves out bowls of cereal everywhere (woops).

He is mostly a recluse, but he usually will talk to anyone who he comes across. He isn’t too reluctant to stop and chat for a minute or two.

#reatohq;task #( written word || tasks )

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autumncrocuscosplay · 7 years

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Leap Frog Chapter 2

echoofautumn on AO3

Chapter 2

Summary:

Red is at home on the paintball field, and Lance chokes on an energy drink.

It was another 30 minutes before the first player arrived. Lance had moved to laying across the counter on his back and was watching the sun set, while Matt was finishing his work on the circuit box for the night game's lighting system. As always, it was the beat-up red pickup truck that arrived before anyone else. The driver’s side door opened, and one of their regular players stepped out.

Lance remembered the first time they had shown up at The Empire just over a year ago.

It was a Saturday like any other. Lance was working the shack when someone had approached him nervously. “Um,” Lance looked up from the rental he was cleaning to see a young guy, about his age, wearing a faded red t-shirt and with a black sports bandanna covering his mouth and nose to protect from the dust. Lance made a mental note to buy one, because that would be great to have during the dust storm season. “Yo. Can I help you?” The newcomer had a black worn-out gear bag hoisted over his shoulder, and he shifted its weight uncomfortably as he stood in front of Lance. "Can I-? We can use our own gear here, right?" Lance chuckled. "Yeah dude. As long as your BPS is within regulation, you're good to go." The guy made a move to walk away, but turned back around. “Can I get some paint from y’all?” “Twenty bucks a box.” He grumbled something about paint being cheaper in Texas as he dug a wadded up $20 out of his pocket, and Lance had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as he grabbed a box of red paint from the back. “Rentals shoot white paint, and we usually only stock that and orange. But you’re in luck. We just got a few boxes of other colors yesterday.” Lance grinned. “You’re gonna match your paint, Red.” ‘Red’ scowled.

When the next game was being set-up, Lance observed the newbie with interest. The guy had on red and black paintballing pants, but wasn’t wearing a jersey. Red was hovering near the other players wearing a standard black face mask, a waist pack holding pods filled with extra paintballs, and holding his gun in his left hand. Matt was standing in front of the gate explaining the rules of Speedball to the inexperienced players. “Once again: if you get hit, you’re out. No exceptions.” The teams were split up and they headed onto the field. Lance grabbed a Monster drink out of the mini-fridge in the shack, before walking over to the fence of the range. The whistle blew, and the game was afoot. Immediately, the range filled with the sounds of paintball guns firing. The majority of players stayed behind their designated bases, but a few of the more experienced players started advancing and taking cover behind small bunkers and shelters. It took Lance only a moment to find Red. Red was tearing across the field, alternating between ducking and dodging around obstacles to protect from enemy fire, and standing his ground to fire at the opposing team. He fired at two kids from a long distance but didn’t even pause to see if the shots had landed. They did. Lance was stunned. This could not be the same person who had approached him nervously just ten minutes before. This was someone entirely different. Red was at home on the paintball field. Lance took a drink of his Monster and almost spit it out when Red passed the right fifty. Even Lance didn’t attempt to pass the centerline until the majority of the other team was eliminated. But now, almost the entire team was still playing. Red flanked a small bunker and lit up three players hiding there. He sprinted toward a wall and ーLance actually spit out his Monster this timeー dove into a forward roll to get behind it. Lance had never seen someone attempt a roll in person. Even in tournaments he’d watched, only a handful of times had he seen one of the pros pull-off a successful roll. As Lance was gawking at him, Red was crouching behind the wall and refilling his gun with the paint from one of the pods on his harness. He shoved the now empty pod back into his belt and was back in the game. Red was moving forward quickly. The opposing team was suffering heavy losses, while their own was only missing three or four players. As the game started to come to a close, he shot the last four players on the opposing team. The whistle blew. Red exited the range behind the other players, and Lance had to return to the shack to assist the rentals. It took a while, but once Lance helped everyone in the line, he went over to talk to Red, who was leaning over a work table digging through his gear bag. “Nice moves out there, Red.” Red jumped slightly before looking over his shoulder with a scowl. “Don’t call me that.” Lance smirked. “Well I can’t call you Blue, now can I?” Red’s refocused back on the table. “And why’s that?” Lance gasped dramatically. “Because that’s my name!” Red rolled his eyes. “Also, look at yourself.” Red turned around and leaned against the table. “Alright, I’ll humour you. What does my appearance have to do with you calling me ‘Red’?” Lance started counting off on his fingers. “First off, you’re wearing a red shirt. Secondly, your bag is black and red. Third,--” Red cut him off. “Okay, okay I get it.” Lance grinned. “But seriously, I’ve never seen someone play like that. I’ll admit, it was impressive.” “Not really. I wasn’t trying that hard.” Red shrugged. “That might’ve been the easiest game I’ve played in a long time. It was more of a warm-up than anything else.” “No way.”

Lance recalled how he had teased Red until the prep for the next game started, and proceeded to do so between every game for the rest of the day.

"Blue? Hey, Blue!" Lance was snapped out of his reverie by Red yelling. He opened his eyes to Red leaning over his face. Lance jolted upright, slamming his forehead into Red's in the process. "¡CARAJO!" "FUCK!" The two reeled from the shock; Lance falling back onto the counter and Red staggering backwards a few steps with the weight of his gear bag. They both held their foreheads in pain. Matt's laughter could be heard from the range. "NICE GOING, BLUE!" Lance let out a screech and bolted upright, yelling at Math. "SHUT UP, ¡CABEZA DE PINGA!"

Immediately, Lance leaned forward and groaned. "Bad idea. Very bad idea. Díos ayudarme." Red set his bag on the counter and adjusted his black bandanna before turning back and glaring at Lance. "Ya think?!?" Lance's eyes narrowed. "This is your fault anyway." Lance slid off the counter to face Red. "Wha-how?!" "Well, if you weren't in my face like that, it wouldn't have happened!" "It wouldn't've happened if your head wasn't up your ass!" Lance poked Red in the chest with his finger. "This is coming from the one who shops at Hot Topic!" "Yeah? So?" "So, Mr. Edge Lord, quit being so emo and step up your game." Red threw his hands up. "This has nothing at all to do with our original argument. Jesus Christ you have ADHD." "Tell me something I don't know! I'm sor-ry that I can't afford my Ritalin on a college student's income!" "And how do you think I'm do–" A loud car horn blared through the air, interrupting Red. Lance and Red spun to face the main gates, where a large olive green Hummer was just pulling thorough. A girl was leaning out the passenger side window, waving at them with both hands.

Notes:

BPS - Balls per second. A measure of rate of fire.

¡Carajo! - in this context it's "fuck!" Cabeza de pinga - dickhead Díos ayudarme - God help me

Who do y'all think the mystery girl is? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

#voltron #voltron fanfic #voltron au #paintball #paintballau #klance #klance fanfic #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #keith kogane

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thotticus---prime · 7 years

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Vineyard Vines or Boyfriend Finds?

Part 1! You’re here: Part 2!

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My contribution to @indiansummersunset and @iverindes ‘s College Rich boy trust fund kid Viktor

You can find my Ao3 here!

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“Yuuri Katsuki if you think I’m going to wash all of your stupid little tea things then you’ve got another thing coming. Okay they are super cute and I totally instagrammed the poodle one but babe you thought wrong.”

Yuuri walked into the small kitchenette with Vicchan then sighed and ruffled his hair. “I was going to do them as soon as I got back from getting your coffee Phichit.”

Phichit took the coffee from Yuuri’s hand then took a long sip while making direct eye contact with Yuuri. “I take back my statement, son.”

“I’m older than you!” Yuuri nearly shouted before grabbing his own tea and quickly walking to his room. “I have psychology and then physics in thirty and Ciao Ciao gave you the day off so you’d better not waste it on instagram and...the snapchat?”

Phichit gave Yuuri a deadpan look then crossed his arms. “Don’t you ever call snapchat the snapchat again Yuuri. Never again.” He huffed slightly then went back to washing anything but the many little tea infusers. “Besides, how do I talk to my people and cheer you on by not going on social media?”

Yuuri hummed then shrugged and smiled. “I guess you’re right but still, you need to make sure you do your homework...and don’t cut the sleeves off of your shirts again.”

“Yuuri we’ve discussed this. I’m the fun one and you’re my impulse control. Remember?” Phichit grinned as he took another sip of coffee then sat on the counter. “Oh, after practice we should totally go out and splurge on a dinner okay? Yep, we’re doing that and then we can go to the club!”

Yuuri furrowed his brows then hummed and shrugged. “I actually can’t tonight Phichit, I have something to do. You can go out though~!” He grinned at Phichit then retreated to his room with Vicchan scampering after.

It took Phichit a beat or two to realize what happened before he slammed his coffee down. “Yuuri come back out here and wash your tea things!” He listened to Yuuri’s laughter for a few minutes before grabbing a monster energy drink from their mini fridge and downing it while sipping his coffee. “Little jerk.”

“Chris! Mama wouldn’t let me hold a skating party at the rink.” Viktor whined as he leaned against his best friend and pouted.

“Well it’s mid Fall so either way he probably can’t be there mon ami.” Chris practically purred into Viktor’s ear before Viktor pulled away and pouted rather dramatically.

“Why wouldn’t he be there Chris? Does he not like me? I knew I should’ve given him a faberge! A yacht! Anything!I don’t think I’ll ever recover.” Viktor whined as he sunk down in his chair.

Chris sighed as he ran a hand over his face then took his glasses off and set it on his computer. “Well he’s a figure skater, Viktor.”

“What does that have to do with my unrequited love?” Viktor frowned then sat up and fixed his hair before slipping his Vineyard Vines hat back on.

“He has qualifiers soon, I may not be able to qualify this year but I still keep up with it. That Phichit kid keeps posting updates on his insta and snapchat too. You should follow him so you can do less literal stalking and do it on the internet like the rest of us.”

Viktor pouted then placed a finger on his lip before he sat up. “Good idea Chris, we’ll hold a viewing party at the rink for Yuuri’s qualifying match!”

“I-I didn’t say that Viktor.” Chris sighed then shook his head. “Nevermind, but make sure it’s big enough for everyone to see.”

Viktor clapped then stood. “Alright, I have physics in ten. I’ll bring a starbucks back for you.” Chris slid his glasses back on then saluted Viktor as he walked out with his computer. As soon as Viktor was stepping out onto the quad he slid his sunglasses on and winked at the large crowd that immediately began to gather around himself.

He made his way across the quad, his hair practically gleaming in the mid fall sunlight. As he walked into the crowded classroom his eyes found Katsuki Yuuri who was sitting in the back and staring out a window. Viktor grinned before rushing over and nearly dropping his computer in his haste to get to the empty seat next to Yuuri. “Hi Yuuri~!”

Yuuri jumped nearly three feet in the air without momentum then rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head to give Viktor a slight smile. “Hello Viktor.” Viktor grinned as he took his Vineyard Vines hat off then ruffled his hair. “Wanna go on a ride on my daddy’s yacht?” Viktor grinned as he watched Yuuri turn a few varying shades of red before setting his elbows on the desk and placing his head on a fist. “I’d like it better if you wanted to go on a ride on me afterwards though.”

Yuuri let out a screeching noise similar to that of his roommate Phichit before hiding behind his fluffy sweater and coffee mug filled with tea. “Uh w-well I don’t think I can? N-not that I don’t want to I just can’t?” He smiled nervously then took a sip of his rose tea to avoid making eye contact with the pouting Viktor.

“But Yuuri~ We would have so much fun! We have jet skis and we can go paddleboarding together before swimming at sunset.” Viktor pouted as he watched Yuuri keep his eyes away from Viktor’s.

“I have competitions, the first ones that I already did aren’t that important but they help for the important ones.” Viktor pouted for a few more seconds before positively lighting up. “That reminds me! We are having a viewing party here for your competition~!”

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck then smiled slightly and shook his head. “Ah! Uh w-well if you were going to do that the connection doesn’t always work and uh Phichit already talks about it enough you probably wouldn’t miss much if he told you what happened.” He grinned, albeit a bit nervously, then went back to sipping on his tea.

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, not paying attention when the professor came in and began to talk about centrifugal force and centripetal force. Yuuri took careful notes, making sure to get every detail down before the assignment was passed around.

While a majority of the class worked on the assignment Yuuri walked up to the professor, having finishing most of the following month’s work and spending many nights studying and doing multiple assignments. He was ready to take the multiple tests so that he could easily travel for week after week for the Grand Prix and other competitions. Phichit, the rather sarcastic optimist, pointed out helpfully the previous day that Yuuri drank enough energy drinks to make a christmas tree in their sitting area.

Yuuri spent the next few hours doing his tests while the others did an essay. Once he sat down again he rubbed his eyes and grabbed his phone out of his bag to see if Celestino texted him. Viktor leaned over Yuuri shoulder, not bothering to do the assignment just yet in favor of spending time with the blushing Yuuri. “What were you doing Yuuri?”

For the second time that day Yuuri flew nearly three feet in the air before stammering and closing his eyes to take a deep breath. “Well I had to do my tests instead of making them up when I return for longer than a week or two.” He smiled nervously as he red through the e-mail Ciao Ciao had sent. Yuuri had a near heart attack as he read through the e-mail a few extra times.

Viktor watched Yuuri turn pale then raised an eyebrow and tried to read the e-mail before humming and leaning back in his seat. “What happened Yuuri?” Yuuri turned his head to look at Viktor before running his fingers through his hair and smiling nervously. “Oh, uh Grand Prix finals assignments are out now.”

Yuuri quickly pulled his old computer out of his backpack then took a deep breath and typed in the website to find out where he was going this year. Viktor skimmed through the website with Yuuri, more like reading over the younger man’s shoulder before Yuuri covered his mouth with his hands to avoid screeching once more.

Viktor hummed as he read the many foreign names then focused on Yuuri. “Which ones are you in Yuuri?”

Yuuri let out the bigging smile Viktor had seen since he met the younger man then ran his hand through his hair. “I’m in the Trophée de France this year and the Rostelecom Cup.”

Viktor smiled when he heard France then positively beamed when he heard Rostelecom. “Those sound so fun! The campus will love watching~!”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at Viktor then nodded slightly and took a deep breath. “W-well, thank you for your support Viktor.” Viktor merely grinned in response then grabbed his Vineyard Vines hat and slid it back on, grabbing his laptop and winking. “No problem Yuuri, you can thank me by coming with me on my daddy’s yacht and if chris were here he’d say come in more than one way.” He winked at the blushing Japanese man then ducked out as the class ended.

Yuuri sat in the chair for a few extra minutes with his mouth agape, a horrified yet confused expression on his face before he shook his head and began to stuff his things back into his bag to rush back to the dorm. Phichit jumped on Yuuri as soon as he walked into the dorm, catching a selfie before climbing off and grinning. “Congrats on qualifying Yuuri!”

“Thanks Phichit.”Yuuri was laughing as he set his back down next to the door then bit his lip. “So, I finally took care of all of my classes so I can actually travel without having to think about physics or psychology or engineering or anything.” He smiled then walked over to the small couch and plopped down, closing his eyes in the process. Phichit huffed slightly as he walked over then picked Yuuri up off the couch and settled down with Yuuri now in his lap. “Phichit! I could’ve moved!” Yuuri was blushing a familiar red as Phichit rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out to post the selfie he had just taken.

“Don’t give me that excuse of you being too heavy again babes, I know you aren’t.” Yuuri whined slightly then took his glasses off and leaned his head against Phichit’s shoulder. “So, Viktor invited me to go on his yacht?”

Phichit raised an eyebrow at his roommate then grinned and set his phone to the side. “Oh he did now? When did you guy start dating Yuuri? So scandalous!”

Yuuri laughed as he shook his head then rubbed his eyes as Vicchan hopped onto his lap. “We’re just in physics together, he said that he was going to hold a viewing party for the skates I”m in.”

Phichit laughed then nodded. “Chris told me, Viktor’s extra. He is hot though to get it Yuuri. Go get that ass.” Yuuri choked on air as he sat up fully, Vicchan nearly falling off, then turned his wide doe eyes to Phichit’s gleaming ones and let out a shrieking noise at the back of his throat. “Phichit! I can’t-why would you-how did you even get to that point in your head? I just said that we were in physics together and that he wanted to see the skates when did getting together with him cross your mind?!”

“Oh Yuuri I didn’t know you were the jealous type.” Phichit wiggled his brows at Yuuri before laughing at his roommates horrified expression. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Sure Yuuri, just remember that when you come back the walls are thin and make sure Chris isn’t there too he’d want to help Viktor, he says your thighs could kill a man and he’s not wrong, so remember. Thin walls. Thick thighs. Low screams, people wouldn’t want to be woken up that late at night. Make sure Viktor wears a different color other than that pink Vineyard Vines shirt, unless you’re into the pink. I don’t judge.” Phichit winked then watched as his roommate covered his face with his hands and mumbled in Japanese with bright red cheeks, partially hiding behind his small poodle.

----------------------------

Shout out to @actualyuuri and her fic Centripetal Force! Go read it! Cry with me!

#Trust fund kid Viktor AU #Yuuri Katsuki #Viktor Nikiforov #phichit chulanont #christophe giacometti #Yuri on Ice #Ice Ice Kill ME #COLLEGE AU #No one asked for this but oh well??#Sorry?#IM NOT SORRY HAHA BISH YOU THOUGHT #TAKE A FRICKEN SIP BABES #Yuri Plisetsky #mila babicheva #MY BABES #I LOVE THIS AU

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mirberry-blog1 · 7 years

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10 lactation boosters that won’t let you down

by Ashleigh Evans posted in Parenting Nursing has always been a bit rough for me. Around the 3-month mark is usually when my milk supply starts decreasing, so I’m trying to be proactive this time around. Eating foods that help boost my supply has really helped me this month. There are numerous things you can do to help increase your milk supply, but remember: everything doesn’t work the same for every person. Also, be sure that you actually need an increase of milk. If your little one is gaining and thriving, your supply might be perfect the way it is. A few helpful ways to boost your supply: Oatmeal. Aside from warm oatmeal, try adding it to your smoothies or making overnight oats in the fridge. Water. Staying hydrated is essential! Switch up your water by adding citrus, watermelon, cucumbers, mint, or berries. Fenugreek pills. I was told to take 3-4 tablets during mealtime to help boost my supply, but be warned: some babies get an upset stomach from it. Coconut milk. Give this Starbucks Pink Drink a try. This Apple Pumpkin Lactation Muffin recipe is perfect for the cooler fall weather. I tried to keep the sugar low so you can eat 2-3 of these almost guilt-free. The chocolate chips on top are optional…but c’mon, you know you love a little sweet treat! I like to have a muffin in the morning with my coffee after nursing, or as a snack to help with the mid-afternoon slump. Everyone in the family can enjoy these muffins, but feel free to keep them to yourself. The brewer’s yeast and ground flax are what help boost your milk in this recipe. Pro tip: when purchasing brewer’s yeast, be sure to choose a debittered variety, which is almost flavorless. You can also add it to yogurt or other snacks throughout the day! Apple Pumpkin Muffins w/ Chocolate Chips Makes about 12 muffins 1 cup all-purpose flour 1 cup old-fashioned oats 1 cup walnuts 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon pumpkin pie spice* 2 tablespoons brewer’s yeast 2 tablespoons ground flax seed 1 cup canned pumpkin 2 large eggs 1/4 cup sugar 2 cups applesauce 2 tablespoons coconut oil** 2 teaspoons vanilla extract Mini chocolate chips Preheat the oven to 350º. Line a muffin tin with cupcake liners. In a chopper, grind oatmeal and walnuts, pulsing to make a coarse chop. Using a medium bowl, add flour, oatmeal/walnut mixture, baking powder, baking soda, salt, brewer’s yeast, ground flax and pumpkin pie spice. Set aside. In a large bowl, add canned pumpkin and sugar. Using a mixer, mix on medium speed for 2 minutes. Add one egg at a time, mixing in between. Slowly add applesauce and coconut oil, then vanilla extract. Pour in the dry ingredients and mix until just combined. Fill the muffin cups up 3/4 and sprinkle with mini chips. Bake 30-35 minutes, or until golden brown. Allow to cool slightly before serving. *If you don’t have pumpkin pie spice, sub 2 teaspoons cinnamon & 2 teaspoons nutmeg **You can substitute butter or canola oil for the coconut oil Other delicious lactation recipes to try: Banana Chip Lactation Muffins via Dash of Evans (my blog!) Milky Monster Cookies via Dash of Evans Peanut Butter Banana Lactation Milkshake via We’re Parents Lactation Energy Bites via I Can Teach My Child No Bake Lactation Protein Bars via We’re Parents What helps you boost your milk supply? Do you have any favorite recipes? Let me know! Submit The post 10 lactation boosters that won’t let you down appeared first on BabyCenter Blog. Powered by WPeMatico The post 10 lactation boosters that won’t let you down appeared first on Baby Based. http://174.136.57.210/~babybase/10-lactation-boosters-that-wont-let-you-down/

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