#ok that's my relaxing doodle page of the week

[ministarfruit]

reaper dad and demon siblings!

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[thecrowslullaby]

001 and Loceit 😁😁 --🌶🌶🌶

when I started shipping it if I did:

When I was 7 pages into the murder mystery comic. I was a fool who thought this:

was gonna stay a joke. Hooooo, boi was I wrong. Because I spent my 2 week vacation giving them a sad™ backstory, and realised I actualy really like their dynamic and now I can never go back, the brainrot is too strong.

my thoughts:

No thoughts at this point, only a stack of doodles and comic pages with fluff so indulgent it's too emberassing to share and a playlist of songs I want to make loceit animatics too.

Ok one thought: I find it absolutly hillarious that I took the two most stoic and academically smart characters in the shows and made their braincells allergic to each other.

What makes me happy about them:

The overlapping of interrests. The fact that these two could grow with each other. Logan catching Janus lies, but rolling with them anyway. Janus playing up Logan's confidence.

What makes me sad about them:

With all the angst in the fandom I feel like they keep playing against each other. This can literally be said about any other relationship too, tbh.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Love confession that avolve into: lets f*ck in a matter of seconds/minutes? (i mean, i generally avoid smut, but I also adore ace Logan and/or Janus headcannons)

things I look for in fanfic:

I mean, I like that trope in general, but especially for loceit.

+them convincing ach other to take a break.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

I'm a huge fan of both loceit and intruality, but tbh, I'm fine with any combination of intrulomoceit (pairings/poly ships, uou name it I'll take it). Both moceit and logicality is cute and wholesome, while both demus and intrulogical is wild or ride and fun. Like, obviously I'd chose loceit and intruality over any other ship combo but I'm ok with the others ^^'.

My happily ever after for them:

Having some relaxing quiet time. I just want them to be soft together, not necesarry romantically, but I want them to be able to work on projects together and getting to discuss book, phylosophy, sharing gossip, sipping mom juice together. Relaxing.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Both, both is good. Janus placing himself between Logan and whatever project he had once again worked too long on to force him to take a break, or Loggan wrapping his arms around Janus while they both work or read has my heart. So does the concept of tiny Janus trying desperatly to wrap himself around Logan's back, or in-canon-verse, using all of his six arms to do so.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

Just, leaning against each other while going about their day. Little hugs through out the day ;-;, both reading a book, sharing a blanket.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Perfect

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After much research and seeking out advice from Tony, Loki asks you on a date. Warnings: dialogue heavy and an adorably awkward Loki A/N: Thank you for requesting @akhansen2800! I hope you enjoy :) 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The common room was a mess, thanks to the trickster god. There was paper and books littered all over the floor. Not to mention bits and pieces from the computer he may or may not have smashed against the ground. It really was hardly his fault, though; it was the insipid machine that dared defy him.

“Woah, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, walking in, sidestepping the junk on the ground. “Did a tornado hit or something?”

“Oh, very funny, Stark. If you ask me, it is an improvement over this drab decor you have picked,” Loki quipped, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.

“No, how could you! My heart, it can’t take this,” Tony overdramatically gasped, flopping on top of the papers strewn on the couch. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Your theatrics never cease to amaze me,” Loki sighed, finally looking up at the man he’d come to call friend. “And that says a lot, coming from me.”

“You’re right, it’s high praise.” Tony picked up one of the papers he’d crinkled from laying on top of. “What is all this, anyway?”

Just because Loki considered Tony a friend, didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to say what he was doing. He was still a rather closed off person and, in all honesty, preferred to avoid any and all talks about his emotions. Which, of course, brings him right back to why he’s sitting in the middle of this mess, anyway. His emotions, which, despite his best efforts, he did still have.

Loki stood up and stretched his muscles, achy from being hunched over his reading material for so long.  He snatched away the page Tony was perusing, only for him to grab another one to skim. Realizing any effort to keep confiscating the papers one at a time would be fruitless, Loki moved it all to his room with a snap of his fingers. Then he sat next to his companion and began wringing his hands in that awful nervous tic of his. Truth be told, he could use some advice, but that only brought him back to square one of having to talk about his feelings. Tony leaned back on the couch while patiently awaiting Loki’s answer.

“I was doing some research,” Loki finally admitted. “On some Midgardian things.”

“That’s cute, Reindeer, but you could just ask me. Or maybe Peter if it's a pop culture thing.”

“It is not.” Loki wondered how much he could beat around the bush before he either had to give up on the conversation or genuinely say what was wrong. “It is just something I am not entirely sure how to go about.”

“I’m great at giving advice.”

“No, you are not,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Sure I am!” Tony exclaimed, feigning hurt. “How would you know, anyway? You’ve never actually asked me for any.”

“Maybe not, but I have seen the way you live your own life, Stark.”

“That’s entirely different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Fire away, I’m ready.”

Loki merely rolled his eyes again, though he was actually considering it. He hated to admit it—he really hated to admit it—but Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to him. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course, considering how Loki was a thousand years older than the man. But after his childhood, he’d be silly to reject that kind of relationship. Loki supposed that if he had to go to anyone with this problem, Tony wasn’t a terrible option. Besides, he should probably let himself be emotionally vulnerable very once in a while, right? That was supposed to be good or something, he thought. So, he steeled himself, and told Tony his issue.

“There is this Midgardian that I know. They are very sweet and kind and perfect... I mean, they are as bearable as a Midgardian can be,” Loki covered up, blushing slightly from how much he had just revealed. “I would like to ask them to spend some time with me, but I am not sure how.”

“Awww, you have a crush,” Tony cooed. “How sweet. You want to ask them out.”

“No,” Loki protested, stubborn as ever. Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. “Ok, fine! Yes, I would like to take them on a date, but I am dreadfully lacking in knowledge on Midgardian dating etiquette.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Tony grinned. “Oh and take notes.”

And so, Loki spent the next two and a half hours listening to Tony ramble on. Most of it was just him going on rather useless tangents about his own endeavors in love. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes so many times, he began to fear they might roll out of his head. His notes, at least, were pretty amusing. Ok, to call them notes may be a little generous. They were mainly silly doodles of Tony monologuing, with the few helpful things he said jotted in the margins. He got so invested in one of his little caricatures that he didn’t even notice Tony stopped speaking.

“Hey, that’s not what I look like,” Tony pouted, peering at the drawing.

“Well nothing you were saying was helping, Stark.” Loki put the note pad in one of his dimensional pockets. “I am not like you. I am not a flashy person when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Oh, so you want to go the be yourself way. You know, the sappy speeches and flowers and chocolates direction.”

Loki perked up a bit. “Yes. Yes, that sounds splendid.”

Tony sighed and gave Loki a list of movies to watch. And told him to speak from the heart. That troubled Loki; no one ever really cared to listen to him speak before. But, he dutifully watched all the assigned movies, supplemented by some of the books he was still combing through.

After a week of preparation and many, many drafts of a speech to say to you, Loki was finally ready to ask you out. Donning his best Midgardian suit, he walked out of his room, greeted by a bright flash of light. Tony was standing there, camera in hand.

“Look, at my little boy,” he fake cried. “All grown up.”

“Stark, will your antics ever stop?” Loki looked at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “And delete that photo, I was not ready.”

“Nope. It’s payback for all those unflattering doodles. Now, go get ‘em, Reindeer. Remember: Just be yourself.”

Easier said than done, Loki thought as he called upon his seiðr, teleporting to your street. You were an employee at Stark Tower; that’s how the two of you met. Loki had been looking for his brother, his search taking him into the cafeteria, one of his least favorite places in the whole building. It was always too loud and populated for someone who liked his silence and solitude. The sheer number of people in the room was overwhelming to the god that day, but he needed to speak with Thor, and he’d searched just about every other place his brother could be. He could not spot him in the crowd, but his eyes landed on you, off near a corner at a table alone and reading a book. He cast one last nervous look around the room before heading towards where you were, his social anxiety kicking in.

“Hello,” he said after clearing his throat.

You looked up at him with a dreamy sort of gleam in your eye that revealed how enchanted you’d been with your book. It gave Loki a little boost of confidence to know that that happened to you, too. That you could get so lost in a story that the world around you disappeared. It calmed his racing heart a little.

“Oh uh, hi,” you greeted with a chipper smile. Then more nervously, added, “It’s Loki, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. Loki of Asgard, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, sweeping into a small bow. “And you are?”

You told him his name, extending your hand for a shake. “How can I help you?”

“I am looking for my brother, but I cannot find him. You have not seen him around, have you?”

“I actually did see him earlier, though I’m not sure- Wait!” you suddenly exclaimed, and Loki followed your gaze. “He’s over there.”

Loki gulped. Of course his brother was at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by people. He really needed to talk to him about a mission, but the thought of going over there was making his stomach feel queasy. He tried to take a step forward, but his feet were apparently glued to the floor.

“Hey, if you’re nervous about going over there, I get it. Crowds can be scary,” you said, picking up on his subtle fidgeting. “The room usually clears out significantly in about ten minutes from now. I, um, was going to that little cafe over in the corner and get some tea or coffee, if you want to come.” Loki stared at you for a moment, unused to being invited places, especially by mortals he did not know. You seemed to mistake his silence, though, and rushed to assure him he didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was probably stupid. You’re under no obligation to say yes, of course. I understand.”

“No! I mean, yes.” He sighed and mentally smacked himself. Ever since moving to Midgard, his silver tongue was not what it used to be around strangers. “I mean, no that is not stupid, and yes, I would like to go to that cafe with you.”

And go to that cafe you did, launching into an animated conversation about reading. Loki even made you laugh, which felt like a huge accomplishment to him. The both of you sat back down at your table with your warm drinks, still chatting. There were very few people Loki ever felt so relaxed with, especially so soon after meeting them. You didn’t talk about anything groundbreaking, but he enjoyed talking to a kindred spirit. Somehow you even got a smile tugging at his lips, getting wider by the minute.

True to what you’d said, the room noticeably emptied nearly ten minutes later. With only a few people left and after such an amazing conversation, Loki was sure he could go grab his brother out of the room. But that was the problem; the conversation was too amazing, and he didn’t want it to end. And it seemed you didn’t either.

“Hey, um, maybe this is weird, but do you maybe want to talk again sometime? Like if you ever need a friend or are bored or anything?” you ventured.

“I would love that,” he genuinely replied.

You quickly wrote down your number and, after double and triple checking it, handed it to him. He tucked it safely away in one of his inner pockets before getting up and you bidding you goodbye. Then, in a better mood than he’d been in in a long time, Loki waltzed over to Thor’s table and successfully extracted him from the few people still clinging to his every word. He glanced back at you one last time before exiting, and you gave him a small, somewhat shy wave. He returned it along with a smile.

Loki kept that all in his heart as he walked up to your door, finger hovering by the bell for a minute. Maybe this was silly. No, this was definitely ridiculous. But, if he stood here any longer, your neighbors would probably think he was some crazy person.

Really, he shouldn’t be so nervous. You talked all the time since that day of your first meeting, and you’d never seemed bothered by him before. Not even when he started bringing surprise morning coffees to your desk. Or when he started leaving you books he thought you might like. Or when he started giving you little hugs when you seemed down. In fact, you seemed touched by all that. But this was all so new to him, so different from anything he’d known before. What if he was reading it all wrong? Before he could talk himself out if it, he rang the bell.

He heard you shout that you were coming in response. He quickly adjusted his tie and then stood with the flowers hidden behind his back. He made sure to get a bouquet of your favorites. You opened the door and your mouth made an adorable little “o” of surprise before your lips formed a sweet smile.

“Loki!” you greeted, smoothing down your sweatshirt. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s great to see you. Um, do you want to come in? The place is kind of a mess right now, but-”

Loki whipped out the flowers from behind him, making you cut out in surprise. He stared at his feet and nervously mumbled, “These are for you.”

“Loki, these are so beautiful. This is so sweet. Thank you.” You gave him one of those shy smiles that he loved so much. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”

“That is quite alright. I have come here to ask you something.”

“Oh! Ok. I’m all ears.”

Loki smiled at the Midgardian expression, calming him a little. “We have been friends for some time now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute—nay, every second—I have spent with you. You are the most kindhearted being I have ever met, beautiful both inside and out. And thus, I find myself wanting something more than friendship, if you will allow it. My dear, sweet, darling little mortal, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Oh, Loki,” you breathed. “That was beautiful. I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

He cheered on the inside, and you hugged him close. After you pulled away, the two of you stood there for a minute, smiling like dorks. It seemed to Loki that no matter how badly he wanted to say something else, the only thought occupying his brain was that you said yes. He could hardly believe you said yes.

“So, uh, what are we going to do on our date?” you sheepishly asked.

Loki’s face dropped. He couldn’t believe how foolish he was. “I do not know yet. I knew there was something I was forgetting. I am sorry, darling.”

“That’s ok, Loki,” you kindheartedly laughed. “Tell you what, there’s a bookstore with the most adorable little cafe in it, just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we go there?”

“That sounds perfect,” he replied, his smile returning already. “How does tomorrow sound? I can come pick you up around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You stared at each for another minute, those same goofy grins that gave away how happy you were plastered on your faces. When Loki began to overthink how awkward he probably looked, he found it in himself to tear his eyes away from your beauty.

“So I shall see you tomorrow then,” he nervously said.

“Yup! See you then,” you replied, your nerves equaling his own.

After a quick hug and waving goodbye to each other, you parted ways. Soon, Loki was back home in the Tower, happily sprawled on the sofa, book in hand.

“Hey Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted. “So, how’d it go? Was I right, or was I right?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Stark, you were right.” Loki smiled to himself, already daydreaming about your date. “It was perfect.”

Loki found that after so much anxiety and uncertainness, there was finally one thing he knew; tomorrow was going to be perfect, too.

[funnyexel]

Quiet Tsundere x Reader

A/n: This is a drabble. If you like it don’t be shy, leave a request. In the requests on my page. Enjoy <3333

Masterlist Mega List

Yawning, your locker slams shut. You jump at the sudden action, drowsiness present in your form. He towered over you. Looking down at you as if you’re a lesser being than him. You stared back at him. Silently having a staring contest until you gave in. Yawning once again, you lean against the locker. “Yes?” You grip onto your books as they slowly slip out of your hands. He only looks you up and down. Hitting your books with little effort nearly knocking them out your hand and poking you with minimal force. “I’m tired. I was up all night.” You rub your watery eyes. He walked away from you. Maybe onto his next class but it was beyond you as the bell rang to continue your tiring school day. 

You sat in your usual choice of seats. In the back, you’ve been doing this since the first few weeks of school. The words coming out of the teachers mouth was equivalent to gibberish. You didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Sleep was taking over your body as your head met the comfortable school desk. And just like that you were back into dream world. How you ended up sleeping in class was an interesting reason. To think it’d be because of studying or something like that but no. It was because of dumb, never gonna happen fantasies. And with the last person you thought would be in your head in this type of way. How in the world did this happen? Funny story...

“You’re telling me. You have no feelings whatsoever. If he’s not sexually harassing you, they say it’s a sign he likes you.” You roll your eyes at her ridiculous accusations. In your mind, the day he likes you is the day pigs fly. “Mhm. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. He doesn’t utter a word to me. What makes you think he likes me.” You chuckle, hearing how crazy it sounds coming from your mouth. This goes on for days and days on end. Until you’re up at night, thinking if he really does like you. Making scenes and scenarios in your head about confessions, dates and other things.

 And most unexpectedly fantasies about his voice, if it would be deep and smooth or high and premature. It really stumped you. You heard rumors around the school about how his voice is deep and gravely like concrete. Whatever that means, but then again it’s just rumors. Could be true, could be false but only the one the rumor is about will know. On the flip side, his “friends” were noticing his actions towards you as well. It was sudden nonetheless but it was frequently that they would see him around you. He had one true friend. One he knew since the crayon stage. 

He’s the only one that he got comfortable enough around to speak and use his voice. Why is this? He was insecure about his voice. It wasn’t bad or anything but he thought it was super deep, so one day after puberty hit him he decided to stop talking and only talk around those he’s comfortable around. He wanted you to be one of those people. Oh, how it would overjoy him for you to be one of those people. He could talk for hours and hours on end if he had the right person. And in the back of his mind, you were his right person. Corny? Yes and he knew this so he kept to himself. Keeping it well hidden at that. 

The girls that hung around his “friends” hung around him too and he disliked it. These wasn’t his kind of people, they were cool and whatever but not his type of crowd. They started to pick at you while he turned a blind eye. Saying small remarks like “such a pick me girl” and “she came outside wearing that?” It was subtle at first but became more and more obvious. Even though he wouldn’t talk, his body language spoke volumes. With a stare he stopped them from picking at you but it only stopped momentarily. Given they saw how it riled him up and they thought it was hot in a way. Very weird I know. 

“Y/n.” What’s that noise? You thought. “Y/n L/n!” A pair of hands slam on your desk causing you to jump up. They could visibly see the tiredness in your face. “Y/n, go to I.S.S.” They demand. The class inserts cartoon like noises, while you pack up your belongs and make your way to the classroom. You huff as you close the door to your classroom. Sleepily walking to the I.S.S. classroom which is turning into a jog as the hall monitor cracks down on you. They follow you to I.S.S. and close the door behind you. You look at the basically empty classroom with barely anyone in it. 

Sitting down at one of the back desks, you take out a notebook and doodle. A few minutes pass by and a piece of paper slides its way onto your desk. You didn’t see where it came from so you opened it. “how’d a goodie two shoes end up in here?” You lip sync to yourself, now knowing who its from. There lay, the way too familiar bookbag. You sigh and crumple the paper in your hand, putting it in your backpack. Now going back to your doodling activities. This time a paper ball hit your head and landed in front of you. “stop crumpling up my note, idoit.” You roll your eyes and write under his words. 

“you spelled that wrong and I’ll keep crumpling it up if I want to.” You throw it into his lap. He sat at the desk, in front of you to the left. “I know I did, you autocorrect junkie. did you break a pencil or better yet fold a paper wrong.” He was messing with you. “shut up and stop throwing this back, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” You finally go back to your doodling. You feel a minor yet hard kick in your leg. You jerk up ready to place your fury upon the poor soul. He puts his hand up for you to stop then points to the teacher, she was pregnant and out cold. He throws the paper at your chest and turns back.

Frustratingly, you open and read it. “she’s not even paying attention. and you have nothing better to do.” The temptation to crumple this paper is unbearable. “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” You throw the paper at his head, turning your body to the right and continue your doodling. Now in peace, you realize what you’re doodling. It was a mini comic about confessing. Alertly looking around, you rip out the page and shove it into your bookbag. ‘I hope no one saw that.’ You breath out at the thought. You felt little hits at your head, again and again and again. It was slowly getting to you. 

‘can’t this be over already.’ You bury your head into your arms. A soft tap is placed upon your right shoulder. Lifting up your head, an unbothered female rests the note on your desk. You’ve seen her before around the school, she was pretty antisocial as far as you knew. “Those group of girls in the front are staring at you.” At the last word, you lift up the note a bit to get the girls in your eye range. Placing the note on your desk, you reply. “nice to know...you wouldn’t happen to know why. would you?” You drop it on her desk. He stopped throwing paper at you. 

Unfolding her note. “because of your friend. watch out for them, they’re not so...friendly.” You glance at the women again, this time they notice you. “he’s not my friend. but thanks for the heads up. I’m y/n. what’s your name? I’ve seen you around before.” As you pass her the note, he gently places a note on your desk. “This is alot of note passing.” You mutter to yourself. “look at the door, stupid.” Rolling your eyes, you look and see your best friend. A smile creeps it’s way onto your face. “What are you doing?” You lip sync to her. “Class is over come on it’s lunch.” She motions you to come out.

Shaking your head, you receive the note from the girl. “Vera.” You put the note in your pocket and look back to your best friend having a silent squabble with him. You motion for her to stop. The sound of the bell echoes in the class, awaking the teacher. Looking to the ground, a puddle of papers engulf your feet. Thinking fast, you move your backpack closer to the papers and shove them all in your bag. “Ok. I don’t feel like filling in a report so this time, I’ll cut you all lose. Out.” She motions to the door and she didn’t have to tell you twice. You dashed to the door, almost knocking your best friend out. 

Taking her wrist, you pull her to the cafeteria. Sitting her outside at your usual table, she sighs. “He’s annoying....” You slowly nod to her observation. “Just right for you.” She adds to her unfinished statement with a devilish smile. You slap your hand to your forehead and shake your head. She chuckles, leaving to get lunch for you and her. You pull out the papers from your bag. All were blank except for one. 

“This note is for the Idiot who finds it.  You Lack In the brain department. Just so you Know. It Even hurts mY brain to talk tO yoU. Even though I don’t talk.” 

This note made no since what so ever, some letters were written over as if he made a mistake. You put the confusing note in your pocket for later. Feeling the breeze, you close your eyes and relax. “What do you want with Arthur?” A girl in close contact, spits with a noticeable cruel attitude. You open your eyes and they land on the same girls that were in I.S.S. They stare at you intensely. Causing you to answer. “Nothing.” You awkwardly say, playing with a piece of paper. She snatches the piece of paper from you. “Like hell! You’re ugly. He doesn’t like you and would never like you.” 

They encourage her hateful words. “Honestly, she’s the bottom of the barrel.” They begin to cackle at the ‘not so insulting’ insult. It was insulting but not so much for you to go crying to your mommy. Taking their leave. “And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” A snarky remark leaving your mouth, loud enough for them to hear. “What did you just say?” She turns her head, doll like. Reminding you of Annabelle. “I said, And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” You repeat yourself but speak slower so it can sink in. 

“Can we help you?” Quinn says, placing the food on the table and standing by you with her knee on the seat. “Listen here, skank. He doesn’t want you.” You roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I can tell. I’m not interested in him. You can knock yourself out. Metaphorically.” You sigh and take a water from the tray. She gets visibly more frustrated and mad at your unbothered state. Scoffing loudly, she leaves you alone. Glancing at the surroundings, people were gathering around you. They soon realized it was just a disagreement and go back to their business. Quinn was very surprised at how you handled the situation.

Surprised that you even responded to her. “I’ll beat her up.” You chuckle at your best friend. “Words can’t hurt me.” You breathy huff and lean your head in your palm. Secretly staring at her approaching him, smothering him. ‘He looks so uncomfortable.’ You stop staring at her and look at him. He catches your eye and you revert your eyes back to Quinn. She was staring at you the whole time. “I’m not interested in him, she says.” She mocks you, even adding her own commentary. The end of the day came pretty quickly. The halls were practically empty as you went to your locker for the rest of your stuff. 

“I just had to get held back by that teacher. Wasn’t I.S.S enough for them?” You say to yourself as you put your stuff in your backpack. The click of your lock, set about some rapid footsteps coming towards you. You looked and two people grabbed you by the arms. “Let go of me!” You yelled in her face. She laughs wickedly as you get dragged into the bathroom. They striped you of your bookbag and threw you into the stall doors. Your back hit harder than it sounded. As they started to beat you up, you reached into your pocket and pull out your taser, tasing someone in the ankle. 

They dropped down to the ground and this was your chance. Hurriedly crawling to the bathroom door, you push it open. At that moment, you got away. A tight grip is placed upon your ankles with all your might you hold onto the door frame and scream to the top of your lungs. All the while, one of them were pulling your ankles with all their might. Your hands gave in as soon as another pair of palms gripped onto your ankles. Your screams echoed from the bathroom for a moment until an inhuman slam came across the door. Silence filled the restroom, you laid on the floor bruised up and lightly bloody as they stopped their movements to the new person. 

Hearing yelps of surprise, soon enough you were being lift up bridal style in strong arms. Your left eye refusing to open, you stared at him with your right. A heavy sigh of relief, left your lips as you leaned into him a little closer than before. The far too familiar sound of cheap paper crumping fills your ears as he sets you down on the nurses table. The nurse wasn’t there but the door was unlocked. He got some band-aids and alcohol. Sitting on a chair next to the table, he patched you up best he could. You avoided eye contact with him at all costs. “This is awkward.” His voice shook you to your core. Though you were already shaking from the recent events. 

“y-yeah.” Voice low and sore from screaming. He finished, putting all the stuff back, placing a ice pack to a huge bruise on your leg and giving you another for your eye. You stayed quiet for the most part, but you reached into your pocket and held out the crumbled note to him. He looked to you and took it. Leaving the ice pack on your leg, he unfolded it and immediately saw your writing on the bottom. “I like you too.” He lip synced your neatly written words. Shoving the note into his pocket, he gazed into your eyes with hopefulness. “can we leave?” You state, feeling like someone is watching you. He offered you a ride home which you gladly took, having already missed the public bus. 

You both talked the whole ride. Getting used to his voice. He took you to get some food. Throughout the ride, you both established that you’ll keep this relationship on the down low. Arriving at your home, you invited him in but he politely declined. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You leaned in the window and nodded with a smile. “Bye.” You flash one last smile before turning and walking to your front door. Putting in the passcode and entering the house. Walking into the kitchen you but your fast food bag on the island and took a sip of your drink as you dialed a frequent number. “Quinn. You will not believe what just happened.”

[laws-yellow-submarine]

Together With Fruit Ch. 9 (Snippet)

Omgomgomg I actually finished something omg

Obviously this is not the full chapter, but it’s a pretty major chunk of it, and because I’m just so proud of myself and happy that I actually got something I set out to write forever ago FINISHED, I am posting this snippet here as a one-shot (it’s...more than a snippet really, it’s like 4000+ words, and it’s mostly unedited so...ye’ve been warned lol)

Word Count: 4199 (yikes)

Enjoy! Hopefully I’ll have the rest of the chapter finished within the next week or so!

“We’re finally nearing the Grand Line…” Nami muttered, pointing at a spot on the map. “It looks like the only way into it is through Reverse Mountain here.”

“Reverse Mountain?” Hazel murmured, peering over the girl’s shoulder at the point where the seas intersect.

“What a pain. Can’t we just sail straight through it?” Zoro groaned, glaring from where he sat leaning against the rail. Sanji shook his head.

“Nope, from what the geezer told me, that’s the only way boats can enter.”

“How come?” Usopp asked.

“Cause it’s supposedly dangerous.”

“But how come?!”

“I don’t know any more than that!” Sanji yelled, glaring at the sniper. 

“Boys, please…” Hazel scolded, trying to stop any fights before they could occur.

“The reason for that is-”

“Alright! I got it!” Luffy interrupted Nami, pointing at the map. “Then let’s head straight into it!”

“Are you even paying attention?!”

“But it sounds fun!” Luffy insisted, grin never wavering. “Plus it’d feel way better going straight into it!”

“Fun or not, I’d like to actually make it to the Grand Line before we die,” Hazel told him, side-eyeing her brother’s enthusiasm. Nami shared the sentiment.

“Talking to you makes me feel like I’m gonna go crazy…” the navigator whined, palm to her forehead in exasperation. Luffy soldiered on, ignoring the women’s concerns.

“Anyways, let’s stop at an island first and get meat! Meat! Meat!” Nami reached a finger out to point at a spot on the map, and Luffy and Hazel both peered closer at the paper.

“There’s a famous city on this island...Loguetown.”

“Loguetown?” Luffy asked, puzzled look on his face as he tried to think. “What? Is it famous for its meat?”

“Also known as the city of the beginning and the end…” Zoro chimed in, thoughtful look on his face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s where Gold Roger, the former Pirate King, was born,” Hazel supplied, appearing somber, “and where he was executed.”

“The town where the King of the Pirates died...” Even Luffy’s voice was tame, contemplation clear in his eyes. Nami swung her gaze to meet his, sly smile finding its way across her cheeks.

“Wanna go?”

“Yeah! I wanna see it!” As he spoke, his voice grew more excited, though it never lost its reverence. “I wanna see the town where the man who got the One Piece - everything this world has to offer - was born and then died!” Luffy stood up, grin fixed firmly back in place. “Nami! Set sail for Loguetown!”

As the crew scrambled to set their course, Hazel smiled at her brother’s excitement, though she didn’t share the enthusiasm. She didn’t really harbor any opinions on the former Pirate King, good or bad; there just wasn’t enough information available on who the man truly was. She had asked her grandfather once, considering what she knew about his connection to Ace, but after hours of pestering the only thing he’d told her was “don’t believe everything you hear”. Other than that cryptic statement, she knew about as much as anyone else: he was born in Loguetown, he circumnavigated the entire world, then turned himself in (to her grandfather, no less), and was executed in his hometown. For someone who was so famous, you’d think there’d be more to know about him.

Hazel looked down at the notebook in her hand, blank since Shells Town except for the notes she’d taken. She wasn’t going to let Luffy fall into that same level of anonymity. Sure, the boy couldn’t care less about the fame; his views on being the Pirate King weren’t shared by most other pirates, though she found his ideals to be more admirable. What she really didn’t want to happen, though, was for her baby brother’s name to be smeared by the media, with nothing to counteract it.

Which meant she had a lot of work to do.

“Well, before we get to Loguetown, I have to get to work. Which means I’m shutting myself in my room until I’ve finished writing about our adventure so far!” Hazel stated for all to hear. She ignored the odd looks sent her way. “So no one bug me, ok?” When she’d received satisfactory nods, Hazel made her way to the girls’ room, shut the door, and plopped herself down at the writing desk. She ripped out her pages of notes so she could refer to them easily as she wrote, then opened to a blank page, her pencil hovering above the paper.

An hour later and the page was still blank.

Hazel’s pencil had moved, at least. It’d been set on the desk, balanced on her nose (a failure on her part, but no one could see it so she wasn’t too pressed), twirled between her fingers, tucked behind her ear as she stretched in her chair (and changed position at least three times; currently she had her feet on the back of the chair with her head leaning on the desk). She’d doodled little pictures on her note pages; tiny flowers and crude renditions of her crewmates (note to self: hide these so Nami doesn’t see). There’s a reason she hadn’t decided to illustrate this book.

Another hour later and her legs hurt from how much she’d been bouncing them. The page remained blank, her mind void of ideas, and her eyes were fixed on the picture frame hanging on the far wall. Maybe some food would help? She didn’t think she ate much at breakfast…

As Hazel made her way on deck, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted her. Nami was lounging in the sun on the top deck, being served some fancy drink from their newest member. Zoro was, surprise, napping beneath the mast, his swords propped in his lap. Luffy sat on the other side of the ship, watching Usopp practice with his slingshot. Oh, that could be fun!

“Whatcha guys doin’?” Hazel asked, sneaking up behind the sniper, causing Luffy to laugh at the boy’s frightful shriek. “Oops! Sorry, Usopp!” He just glared at her in return.

“Usopp’s practicing his slingshot! See? We set up some targets against the other side of the deck, he’s really good!”

“Well, you see Luffy, I’ve been using a slingshot for at least 25 years,” Usopp boasted, ignoring the fact that he was only 17. “Which of course makes me an expert sniper!”

“25 years, huh?” Hazel snarked. “Well, mister “expert”, whaddaya say to a little contest? The closer to a bullseye gets you more points. Whoever gets the most points wins.”

“Uhh, ok, Hazel. But where are you gonna get a slingshot?” Hazel just pointed to Luffy. Specifically his arms. “Hey, now, wait a minute! You can’t use him!”

“Why not?” Hazel and Luffy asked, both with blank looks on their faces. The sniper spluttered.

“Because-! He’s not-! And you-!”

“Ok, look - we’re not going for power here, just accuracy, so it’ll still be a fair contest. And we’ll use the same ammo, ok?” She left no room for him to argue back, immediately grabbing one of the pellets from his hand and positioning her brother. Usopp rolled his eyes behind her, but sidled up next to the two, aiming his own slingshot at the first target.

“Ready...aim...fire!” Usopp let the pellet fly, smacking the target right in the center.

“Hey, nice job Usopp! But I’m gonna tie it up right here!” Hazel ribbed, tying Luffy’s fingers together to form a sling. She pulled them back, tongue poking out between her teeth as she aimed carefully. When she felt confident in her position she nodded, waiting for Usopp to give the signal, and then let go.

The target shattered to pieces.

“Oh fuck-!”

“WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!” Nami’s shrill voice called, causing all three to wince.

“Luffy did it!” Hazel immediately yelled while Usopp checked the ship for damage.

“No I didn’t!”

“Now, Luffy, you know you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not-!”

“ENOUGH!” Nami yelled again, interrupting the siblings. “I don’t care who did it, you’re just lucky the ship didn’t get damaged! You and you-” she pointed to Usopp and Luffy “-clean this up! And you!” Nami pointed at Hazel, making the older woman feel suddenly small. “You’re supposed to be writing right now! Not breaking things!”

“Well...you see...the thing is…” Hazel trailed off as Nami continued to glare at her. Huh. She didn’t like being on the receiving end of this. “I was hungry…?”

“Then ask Sanji-kun for a snack and get back to work. You told us not to bother you and we’re listening, take advantage of that!” At Hazel’s huff Nami smiled. “If you’d like, you can sit in the tangerine grove. I find it very relaxing when I need to focus.”

“Hmm...a change of scenery may be helpful. Thanks, Nami,” Hazel smiled, rolling her neck. “I better go bug Sanji.” But Nami held up a hand to stop her.

“Nope! You go sit, I’ll get it. I don’t want you to get distracted again.” The orange-haired girl walked away without another word, and Hazel was forced at that point to just listen to her. She made her way to the upper deck, finding a nice spot under the trees to nestle in. She reopened her notebook to the still blank page, and tapped her pencil against her chin as she tried to focus. The breeze up here was nice, as well as the sounds of her crewmates (Luffy and Usopp had made a game out of cleaning up her mess). The smell of tangerines wafted over her, muddying her senses. One of her curls was tickling her forehead.

She’d made zero headway by the time Sanji appeared with a snack. 

“Hazel-chwan!~ I’ve brought you a plate of delicious sandwiches, and a fresh glass of cabernet sauvignon,” the man said, brandishing a platter on one hand and a glass of deep red liquid in the other. She looked to the glass curiously. Despite having practically lived in a bar half her life, she’d never actually tried wine. Her alcohol tended to be of a rougher variety.

“Oh, yeah, alcohol. That’ll help,” Hazel muttered, hoping Sanji didn’t think her rude. For all she knew, it would get the creative juices flowing, so to speak. “Thank you, Sanji.” She smiled at the cook, his feet practically floating off the ground in happiness. He turned to leave her, and Hazel tentatively took a sip of the wine...only to immediately cringe when the bitter liquid hit her tongue. She glanced around in panic, hoping the blond didn’t see, and snuck the glass behind her back, hidden under the trees. “Ooh! Sanji, wait up!” she called, wine forgotten as she grabbed her plate and ran after him.

“Yes, my love?” Sanji asked, twirling around to gaze at her through heart-shaped eyes.

“I just realized that I never asked about what happened at the Baratie! After we left?” The cook’s expression had switched to confusion at her question. “In fact,” she continued, following him into the galley, “I don’t actually know that much about you. Tell me, what’s your dream? Your motivation? Your tragic backstory? Spare me no detail!”

For the first time since they’d met, Sanji wasn’t looking at her with adoration. In fact, he almost looked a little scared. His eyes darted around for half a second while she pulled out her best pout, gray eyes shining like a puppy begging for table scraps. Later, she’d chide herself for being so mean. After all, she used to practically torture Ace with that expression. But for now, she needed answers.

“Well…” Sanji started, pulling himself together before all the blood rushed out of his nose. “I am merely a humble sea cook, mademoiselle. I fought valiantly for my former home, and for the chance to gaze upon your lovely visage once again.” He flourished into a low bow.

“Uh huh,” Hazel chuckled, an amused smile on her face as she raised a brow. “Definitely humble.” Sanji rose back to standing, an easy grin in place at their shared humor. “Come on, lover boy. Sit with me awhile and tell me a story.”

The two sat and talked for a time, Hazel’s pencil scratching across the pages of her notebook as Sanji divulged all the details he felt comfortable sharing: how Luffy had bartered with Zeff for his freedom, the way he’d swatted projectiles with a single kick. She had a feeling he may’ve been embellishing his actions a bit, but having seen the way he’d toppled part of a building at Arlong Park, she knew it wasn’t all bluster.

He told her of Pearl, the man who’d covered himself in armor, only to lose his mind (and catch fire, apparently) at the first drop of blood. How Gin, the man he’d helped, had taken the old man hostage, and how he’d been willing to die to save his mentor’s dream. Hazel filed away that note for later, planning to ask about the clear devotion Sanji had for the old man, even if the blond tried to hide it behind snark.

She tried not to laugh when Sanji told her Luffy destroyed part of the ship. From what he was telling her, it was actually a brilliant stroke on Luffy’s part, and definitely contributed to Sanji’s outlook on the situation; but the way the blond’s curly brow furrowed over his eyes at the memory was, in her opinion, hilarious. 

“So, wait,” Hazel started, pausing Sanji’s tale of his fight with Gin. “How did you come to the Baratie in the first place? Zeff isn’t your father, is he? Why so devoted to preserving his dream?”

Discomfort crossed the cook’s face, as it had earlier, but whether it was his dedication to please the woman in front of him, or because he’d already come this far, he gifted her with the reason. “He saved my life,” was the simple answer. The follow-up nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

Hazel reached across the table, covering his hand with her own, and she sent him a soft smile. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and she allowed him to turn away to light a cigarette; she even grabbed the ashtray off the back shelf for him.

Just as they were about to continue, the door to the galley swung open, a rubbery body bouncing its way inside. “Sanji!! Food!” Luffy yelled, head turning frantically before his eyes finally settled on the cook.

“You just ate, you damn animal!” The cook scolded, and the somber mood was broken as Hazel burst into laughter.

“But I’m hungry! Food!”

“I’m busy!” Hazel took that moment to step in.

“It’s alright, Sanji. I can get the rest from you later. If you don’t start dinner soon, we may not have a ship to sail on anymore,” she laughed, drawing Luffy’s attention. The boy leaped onto the bench in front of her, taking Sanji’s place, and glancing at the notebook for a second without reading.

“Whatcha talkin’ about? Whaddaya need Sanji for?”

“He was telling me about your fight with Don Krieg, since I missed it.”

“Oh! I can tell you! There was a boom! And a woosh! And then I went ‘Gum-Gum Bazooka’! And then there was poison gas, but we’re fine, and then everything went boom boom boom boom! And then I got poked a lot! And then-” Hazel tuned out as her brother continued telling her all about the fight with as little detail as possible. Sanji shot her a confounded look over their captain’s shoulder, and the girl replied with a nonchalant shrug. When Luffy finally finished, he looked to his sister expectantly, proud grin wide across his face.

“Thanks Luffy, I’ll make sure to write that down.” The boy nodded, then looked back at her notes from Sanji’s story.

“Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done!” Hazel flinched, grimacing into her palm.

“Yes and no…” Luffy just looked at her, confusion in his eyes, and Hazel gave a heavy sigh. “To be honest, Luff...I don’t really know where to start.”

“At the beginning. Duh.”

“Wow, I never thought about that,” Hazel deadpanned. “And get your finger out of your nose!” As Luffy stuck his tongue out at her, something struck her. Hazel’s eyes widened, an invisible energy urging her hand to move across the paper. “Actually, Luffy, you’re a genius! Thank you!”

She vaguely heard him say something in agreement, but her mind was too focused on the idea it had. Start at the beginning...she was surprised the thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier; after all, she’d only just told the story a week ago.

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

Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town. Even when pirates had settled their sails at its docks the year previous, the villagers had yet to deal with much past the occasional bandit or two. Our lives had been much the same, short as they were; filled with fun and laughter and play. Then one day, the stuff of legends became real, and peace would be known no more.

The sun had shown brightly that morning, though my brother and I had already been up for hours. We always had trouble sleeping the closer to Shanks’ departure. In only a short time, the red-headed man had wormed his way into our lives, and our hearts, and my brother especially was determined to join him this time.

So it was that we stood on the deck of the Red-Hair Pirate’s ship, the hustle and bustle of supplies and crates being loaded around us. A few of the men were singing songs - definitely inappropriate considering the children in their company - but we’d already spent the last seven years in a bar. There was nothing in those songs we hadn’t heard before.

I had been listening to Benn Beckman’s tale of their last voyage when Shanks’ voice had called our attention to the figurehead. Standing atop the dragon’s maw, my brother Luffy stood glaring down at our pirate friends. Unfortunately, none of us had taken his declaration of strength seriously. Not until he drove the knife beneath his eye.

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

The paragraphs flew quickly out of her hand, the day in question clear in her mind. Hazel took a moment to shake out her wrist, feeling stiff as she read over her work so far. She liked it, she really did. Now to keep up this momentum.

The door opened once again, and Usopp and Nami wandered in, talking about something she couldn’t hear. Hazel was still glaring at the page, chewing her cheek as she thought about how to word her next sentence. She heard Sanji mention dinner would be ready soon, Luffy’s excitement sounding through the room, then Usopp’s hiss for him to be quiet.

“Don’t distract her! She’s scary when she’s mad!” the boy whimpered out, much to Luffy’s amusement.

“No she’s not!” he laughed, drawing the sniper’s ire.

“You didn’t think that when she made you take a bath!” Hazel stifled a snort.

“Speaking of which,” Nami chimed in, holding a hand to her nose. “How long ago was that?”

“Actually, Luffy, you are due for one. Zoro too,” Hazel said, looking up at her surprised crewmates. What, did they think she couldn’t hear them at all? “Why don’t you go wash up before dinner. Please?” Luffy groaned, glaring at the navigator, but dutifully made his way to the bathroom. Despite what he said, he didn’t want to push his sister. Again.

Hazel took that moment to stand up, stretching her back with a loud pop, grabbed her notebook, and made her way outside to tell their grungy swordsman his bath was after dinner. She couldn’t see him at first when she stepped outside, but after glancing around for a moment, she finally spotted him. She blinked when she saw his bare back, mesmerized for a moment at the way the muscles rippled as he did push-up after push-up. A second later, she blinked the distraction away, and walked down the steps to the grass-haired man.

“Hey, your turn for a bath after dinner,” she told him, practically hearing him grit his teeth at the notion. “Dinner’s actually almost done, by the way, so you may wanna wrap it up here.”

“Not done,” he grunted, prompting her to raise a brow in his direction.

“Well find a way to be done. We’re hungry, and you’re sweaty.”

“If I’m gonna get stronger, I can’t cut training short. I need more weight.” His gray eyes swung up to hers, and Hazel got the distinct sense he was sizing her up.

“What do you want me to do about that?” She regretted asking the instant she said it. Zoro gestured to his back. His extremely sweaty back.

“Climb on.”

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating here?” She crossed her arms, trying to decide if she needed to hit him for calling her fat or not. She caught him rolling his eyes.

“You’re all muscle, it’s heavier. Climb on.” Hazel chewed her lip, weighing the pros and cons. Then, deciding she had nothing to lose except her hygiene (and really, she could do with a bath herself), she stepped closer to him, cautiously sitting down when he paused for her. He reached his arm around, causing a startled squeak as he adjusted her position, then he resumed his training, a new strain in his breath.

While he worked, Hazel puzzled once again over her notebook. Disappointment flowed through her as she stared at the four lone paragraphs, the struggle for where to take the story next staying her hand. She’d gotten nothing done today, and it was difficult not to take it to heart.

“What are you sighing about up there?” her cushion grunted below her. Hazel rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him by answering anyway.

“I’ve been working on this all day, and somehow I have nothing to show for it.” Zoro was silent except for his heavy breathing, but for some reason she pushed on. “What kind of record-keeper am I? What kind of storyteller can’t tell a damn story? I don’t even have to make it all up, it’s all stuff that happened…” A puff of air escaped her as her eyes began to sting. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

She hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud, and was startled when her chair suddenly stood up. She cried out as she fell, but before she could hit the floor, Zoro’s arms came out to steady her. She looked up at him in shock, affronted at the small glare he sent her way. “Read it out loud,” he said, pointing to the little book in her hands.

“Eh?!” Hazel shrieked, appalled at the very notion of any living being actually hearing her work out loud.

“Read it out loud,” Zoro said again, shrugging his shirt back on. “Then I can tell you if it’s shitty.”

“No way! It’s not ready for human consumption yet!” she yelled, glaring as he sat below the mast. “Besides, who are you to tell me if it’s shit? You wouldn’t know good literature if it waved a sword at you and said ‘boy, speak your name’!” Zoro rolled his eyes at the reference, but leveled her with a steady gaze as it dawned on her the trick he was trying to pull. “Stop it, it’s mine. Why should I share it with you?”

“Because I like the way you tell stories.” He said it so simply, like it didn’t carry nearly the weight for him that it did for her. Hazel felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Something held her gaze on his, something she couldn’t possibly name.

“So how does me reading it aloud help me write it?” Her voice was so quiet, she was surprised he could even hear it.

“Just write it how you’d say it,” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And when he said it like that, it did seem obvious, and Hazel could kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. Before she knew it, she felt herself nodding, sitting beside him beneath the sail.

“Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town….” she began, reading from the beginning, and surprising herself when her voice continued past the last paragraph. He’d heard the story before, but still Zoro sat, listening with rapt attention. Her voice slowed as she wrote, not allowing herself to forget what she’d said, what phrases she used that flowed from her mouth like water.

At one point Hazel glanced beside her, surprised to see the swordsman’s eyes shut. She let out a sigh, finishing her sentence, but not continuing on. She found herself rolling her eyes at the sleeping swordsman, irked that he apparently found her so boring.

“You stuck again?”

Hazel turned to him again, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes. She let out a half chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, before diving into the next paragraph.

It was only Luffy’s call of “Dinner!!” that finally drew the two inside.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

As inspired by Joey being absolutely fricken precious, how about Jaskier (even modern AU if you feel it fits better) helps reader make a DnD character and theyre both just being generally chaotic cuties? Maybe Jask suggested the game as a distraction from stress? (Like forreal, dnd gives me something to look forward to in these times.) 💕

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Modern!Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,298 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Modern!Jask helping Reader through quarantine stress by the power of Dungeons and Dragons. Thank you for this amazing prompt, nonny. Hope you enjoy xo

He’d been watching you grow more and more anxious as you watched the news and tried to telework. Jaskier was grateful that you had a job where you could work from home during these dangerous times, but he knew that it meant you never felt you had a break. You were always checking emails or fretting over things long past the work hours you’d set. There was only one thing to do.

You jumped as the books were plopped onto the table but before you could ask what was going on Jaskier had already turned around and was walking back to his office. This time he returned with a wooden chest that you knew contained his dice collection, as well as a couple of binders. He sat next to you front of the supplies and the azure eyes fixed you with a determined and excited look.

“Y/N, the time has come,” he intoned dramatically. You cocked your eyebrow in question but he saw an amused smirk play about your lips and he was encouraged that he was on the right track. “The time has come for you to play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh! But… how?” you asked. You’d been planning on joining the game he hosted once a week, overtaking the dining room table while you usually relaxed in the bedroom or your office, but the quarantine had dashed those plans. Or so you’d thought.

“My group has decided to try out playing online and you will be joining,” he explained. He slowly snuck the laptop away from you and you didn’t stop him, glancing with interest at the books in front of you.

“I’m so excited!” he said with eyes shining with excitement and a giddy smile that was infectious.

“Ok well you know I don’t know basically anything about this so how do we start?” you asked. He pulled the topmost book down and pulled a couple pieces of paper from a binder.

“First we make your character. Now my group has been playing for a bit so they’re at level five now so I think it’s best to make your character the same level. That just means you’re going to get more cool shit, so don’t even worry about that. Let’s look at races,” he handed you the book opened to a page and you skimmed through them, looking at the different races you could be while Jaskier explained where you didn’t understand.

“Ok so halflings are just, like, hobbits, right?” you asked.

“Yep!” Jaskier answered.

“Well I AM a hobbit basically so I’m going with that,” you said decisively.

“Excellent choice! You’ll get halfling’s luck which means if you roll a one, which is usually a critical failure, you get to reroll. Ok now we move onto classes,” he turned the pages, thumbing through them with the ease that can only be gained by rereading something so often you know exactly where to find what you want. He handed the book over to you again and it took longer to consider your options.

“Let’s break it down this way first, do you want to fight or do you want to cast spells?” he asked, noting your confusion.

“I want to be magic,” you replied. From there he took you through the options again.

“Wait – what’s the difference between a sorcerer and a wizard?” you asked.

“Wizards have to study and learn magic whereas sorcerer’s have a sort of innate magic,” he explained.

“Ooh… see I’m torn because in Harry Potter they’re called Wizards but I like the idea of just having magic within me,” you mused.

“Oh love, you most certainly have magic within you,” Jaskier said with a little wink. You rolled your eyes but laughed, the first time he’d seen you laugh in a while.

“Ok you know what actually I’m going to go with Warlock,” you said suddenly.

“Oh? Going for the sketchy class, eh?” he teased.

“As far as I can see there’s nothing sketchy about it. You work for a god, you get some magic. It’s like capitalism. Or having a sugar daddy,” you reasoned. Jaskier laughed but nodded.

“Alright, the good news is you can pick your sugar daddy. There’s Archfey or some Fiendish ones or-”

“Mephistopheles?” you ventured hopefully.

“Oddly specific but yes, that could happen,” he replied.

“Mephistopheles,” you said decisively, a smile that was borderline creepy coming over your face.

“Do we – uh – need to have a little talk about why you’re so horny for Mephistopheles?” he asked.

“Do you want to have that talk?” you asked pointedly.

“Good point. Just – no summoning demons in the apartment, alright? It would make quarantine just a bit too awkward for me,” Jaskier pleaded. You made a big production of sighing dejectedly.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “Ok what’s next?”

He took you through the backgrounds (“I can straight up be a Charlatan? Like that can just be my identity?”) and the alignments (“ok but it would be too cliché to have Mephistopheles as my patron and be evil, right? Like there would be a more satisfying tension if I was good but he was so, so bad… Hey, come back!”) and equipment (“I want a bag of holding but like I want it to look like an Ikea bag”) and before long you had a character.

“What do you want to name your Chaotic Good Charlatan Halfling Warlock who frequents Fantasy Ikea?” Jaskier asked as he helped you finish filling out your stats.

“Ooh I’m not sure. Would it be plagiarism if I named my hobbit Pippin? Like, will the ghost of J.R.R. Tolkien arise from his grave and shake a finger at me sternly if I do that?” you asked.

“I think we’ll be fine. There’s literally a whole musical called Pippin,” he replied. Your eyes widened in excitement. “Different Pippin.”

You looked decidedly less excited but when you turned back to your character sheet you happily wrote PIPPIN BRANDYBUCK” on the paper.

“Brandybuck eh? Just doubling down on the Lord of the Rings references?” Jaskier asked with amusement.

“I am obviously their child, Jaskier,” you said with a little head shake as if he were being silly.

“You’re such a nerd,” he teased with a look of pride on his face.

“Well you’re the Dungeon Master so….,” you countered.

“Yes, which means you’re sleeping with the Dungeon Master. Don’t expect to get any special treatment. My monsters aren’t going to pull any punches,” he insisted.

“Your monsters won’t need to. Pip is a badass and has the power of Demons and Anime on her side,” you retorted, doodling little hearts around your character’s name.

“Oh you’ll also need to write a backstory. Not right this second but just anything you can think of that you want me to know. Family, any relationships, that sort of thing.”

“She has a great love,” you said immediately, “A bard who travels far and wide. She grew tired of his traveling and that he expected her to just be waiting around for him to come back and that’s why she set off on her own, to have her own adventures instead of waiting to hear about his.”

Jaskier scribbled down some notes on a notebook he pulled from another binder and looked at you expectantly after you’d finished talking.

“That’s all I have for now,” you admitted.

“That’s brilliant! That’s a really good start! See, you’re a natural at this!” he exclaimed. You leaned over and kissed him, and then pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a meaningful look, “I didn’t realize how much I needed something to focus on that wasn’t just another stressor.”

He smiled, cupping your face with his hands to pull you in for another kiss.

[our-time-is-now]

May 11, 2019: I have never…

(previous play)

(Joint project from @riddikulus und @shakshuka-grandpasweaters, translated from @girlwholovesagirl, @divingdeepintothewater, @m-ger and @julerocks. Here is the timeline and the link to the original blog @unsere-zeit-ist-jetzt. If you would also like to help translate, please contact one of us.)  

Saturday, 12:14 pm/7:15 pm:

Matteo: *finished his coffee in the kitchen* *quickly moved the cups and the coffee to his room after that* *gets up when David comes back in* Okay... umm... make yourself at home... there's still coffee... I'll hurry... * goes to the bathroom after that and only then realizes that he didn't take any clean clothes with him* *sniffs his clothes and thinks that they're still alright* *showers in record-time because he doesn't want to leave David alone* *rubs his hair more or less dry and decides to let the air do the rest of the drying* *manages to be back in his room after 15 minutes* *notices David sitting in his armchair sipping coffee, his gaze directed toward his lap, where he must have something that Matteo can't see from his position* *only thinks how unbelievably good he looks and how unbelievably great it feels to have him still there, still waiting for him* *closes the door behind him and smiles when David looks up* Hey...

David: *took out his sketchbook after Matteo vanished into the bathroom and randomly filled a page with things that had accompanied him yesterday and today: two Dürum, the transgender-flag from the Instagram-posts, Matteo and him embracing in his sleeping bag, his and Matteo's hands, two mugs of coffee and so on* *only made rough sketches and plans to complete some of them later when he has time* *skims through some older stuff when Matteo comes back into the room* *smiles automatically when he sees him and cocks his head* Na? All cleaned up? *grins slightly*

Matteo: *grins* Yep, as clean as it gets... *drops himself on the bean bag next to him and then leans forward to refill his coffee* *sees his sketchbook and grins slightly* Did you have to process the traumatic experience with Linn?

David: *takes the mug from Matteo when he refills their coffees* Thanks... *laughs at Matteo's question and shakes his head* *Nah... I was just doodling a little... *pushes the sketchbook towards Matteo in case he wants to take a look* ... I have to finish it sometime when I have more time... *remembers something and pulls the sketchbook back toward him* *murmurs* Hang on... *removes the paper clips that hid the pages he thought were too private - obvious transgender elements, some pages on which he processed the humiliations at his old school and countless sketches of Matteo before they met and some other big and small things connected to him* *puts the book back on the armrest between them and looks at Matteo invitingly* Well, If you'd like...

Matteo: *laughs slightly* With you it's never just doodling... *Is just about to reach for the book when David pulls it back toward himself* *thinks that David remembered something he isn't supposed to see and waits for him to tear out or glue together pages* *is all the more surprised when the opposite happens and looks at him with wide eyes* Of course I'd like to... *reluctantly takes the book into his hands* Are you sure? *sees David nod and then carefully skims through the book* *reaches the pages he wasn't allowed to look at a few weeks ago* *swallows when he sees the tougher sketches* *turns the page and sees his own face, sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller, sometimes only his eyes, sometimes in profile* *two full double-pages only of him* *looks at him dumbfounded* When... when did you make these?

David: *watches as Matteo skims the book and only looks at the pages a couple of times to see what Matteo is looking at* *at Matteo's question he leans a little further toward him to see which sketches he is looking at* *grins and blushes slightly* Hmmm... if I told you it was after our first conversation, would you consider me a freak? *has actually recorded the situation or the feelings or Matteo himself after every meeting with him... and during the time they didn't have any contact he drew him again and again whenever he thought about him*

Matteo: *shakes his head* *looks back at the drawings and then back at David again* No... I'm just... flabbergasted... for only seeing me once you captured me pretty well... *clears his throat* After our first conversation I only tried to find you on Insta... *looks back towards the page* *slowly skims forward*

David: *grins slightly* Your face etched itself directly into my brain... *in his thoughts adds "and into my heart", but doesn't say it because it sounds too cheesy and because it's more true for their second meeting than their first conversation* *laughs quietly when he mentions Instagram and thinks* I don't even remember when we followed each other there... *leans forward when Matteo keeps turning pages, but finds it pretty uncomfortable having to twist like that - especially as the armchair is wide enough for both of them to fit* *shuffles to the side of the armchair, almost to the armrest, and asks* Do you maybe want to come up here? Then I can see better and don't have to twist like that... *can feel a little that he has been wearing his binder for too long but is quite relaxed at the moment and so it isn't too much of a strain, yet* *wouldn't mind being a little closer to Matteo, anyways* *glances back at the book and notices that they almost reached the "sandwich-recipe in pictures"*

Matteo: *looks at him slightly amused but also a little touched* Awwww *shrugs his shoulders* I don't either... *does remember it exactly but doesn't want to expose himself as someone who remembers stuff like that* *looks up at him when David offers the space next to him* *grins and naturally joins him there immediately* *would love to put an arm around him but leaves it for now because otherwise he wouldn't be able to turn the pages anymore* *turns the page and sees the sandwich-recipe and has to laugh out loud* This is genius! *looks at him lovingly* The drawings are all really awesome…

David: *smiles satisfied when Matteo sits down next to him, hesitates briefly but then puts an arm around him and leans against him to look into the book with him* *grins when he hears Matteo’s laugh and shrugs* At least this way we can never forget what was on them... just in case we want to prepare another feast like that* *laughs but then gets more serious again and smiles at Matteo's compliment* *hears a phone buzz and tries to fumble his phone out of his pocket* *looks at Matteo questioningly while doing so* Yours or mine? *eventually manages to get his phone out and glances at it* *shakes his head* Yours! *moves slightly away so that Matteo has enough space to grab his phone but lets his arm remain on the armrest*

Matteo: *smiles and wipes imaginary pearls of sweat off his forehead* Thank God! *also notices the vibrating and is immediately annoyed that someone is disturbing them* *gets up to take his phone out of his pocket* *sees that it's his mother and immediately feels bad* Sorry, my mum... *walks a few steps away and picks up* Hi Mama...

David: *nods when Matteo apologizes and contemplates for a moment whether he should leave Matteo alone* *decides against it because if he didn't want him to hear the conversation he probably would have left the room* *reaches for his mug and tries to look as if he wasn’t listening but still hears everything*

Matteo’s mom: *is glad that her son answers his phone; had tried calling yesterday without success and was worried after he had disappeared so suddenly the day before that* Hey, darling... I just wanted to ask if everything's alright...

Matteo: *turns slightly away from David, more as a reflex than defense* Yes, everything all right... sorry that I left... but I had to take care of something... but everything’s good now...

Matteo’s mom: Take care of what? Did it have something to do with David? I mean it's probably none of my business... anyways: It is good that everything's all right and well now. *sounds a little insecure, as if she didn't know to what extend she is allowed to ask her son about private things*

Matteo: *closes his eyes briefly* *doesn't really want to tell his mother anything but doesn't want to offend her either* Yes... it did... but... everything's fine now and we... we'll make up for the dinner, okay?

Matteo’s mom: *sounds happy* Yes, I'd love that! With David as well? When do you have time?

Matteo: *shakes his head for himself* Maybe... I don't know... *briefly looks over to David* *I'll ask him and I'll text you, ok?

Matteo’s mom: Do that! - I'm looking forward to it! *one can hear her smile* *Bye, my boy! *waits for Matteo to say goodbye and then hangs up the phone*

David: *had sipped his coffee and waited* *only looked up once when Matteo said he would ask _him_ and wondered briefly if it was about him* *watches Matteo now, after all, but thinks that he doesn't look stressed but only a little impatient* *smiles when Matteo hangs up and turns around to face him* *tilts his head questioningly* Everything all right?

Matteo: Bye, Mama *hangs up and puts the phone back into his pocket* *nods briefly and talks while he goes back to David and sits back down next to him* Yes, that was my mom... I kinda left her hanging on Thursday and well... *shrugs one shoulder* She invited us over for dinner... but I didn't agree on anything... I can go by myself...

David: *briefly thinks about what could have happened on Thursday and realizes that it was probably because Laura had told him that he hadn't come home* *feels bad for a moment but doesn't get the chance to apologize again because Matteo continues talking* *looks at him skeptically while he talks and shakes his head slightly* Um, what? She invited _us_? *for one, didn't know that Matteo came out to his mother and didn’t know that he even told her about him, either* *smiles insecurely and stammers slightly* I didn't know that you... well I thought you weren't out to her... and... she knows about me?

Matteo: *nods slowly when he asks /who/ she invited* Yes... *listens to him and instantly gets a little embarrassed* Oh... umm... yes... after I called you, when I wanted to pick you up... after that phone call I texted her... well I came out and she knows your name but not much more than that... *looks at him and puts his arm around him* And you really don't have to come if you don't want to...

David: *smiles lovingly and a little proudly because he thinks it's really brave of Matteo and because it shows him once again how certain Matteo had been the entire time that he wants to be with him - if he even told his mother about him* *leans on him when he puts his arm around him and reaches for his hand* *quietly says* This was really brave! *actually thinks any kind of coming-out is really brave* *grins when he hears his next words and looks up at him provokingly* And if I want to? Would you take me with you? *would actually like to meet Matteo’s mother*

Matteo: *shrugs when he says that it was brave* Over text? I just wanted her to know... *grins at him when he says that he wants to come along* Of course I would take you with me... but I'd warn you that you can't choose your family... *hesitates briefly and gets serious again* My mother takes antidepressants... I think she's doing better now... but... it wasn't always easy with her.... and I'm used to not really knowing in what mood she's in... just so you know...

David: *thinks the way of the coming-out doesn't matter - if it's over text or in person - it's a really big step* *shrugs when he hears his warning and grinningly sighs* You don't have to tell ME about it... *thinks that one of these days they're probably going to talk about his family, too, but for now he's only curious about Matteo’s mother* *gets serious again when Matteo does and listens to him* *presses his lips together briefly and at first doesn't really know what he should say or what he's allowed to ask* *brushes his thumb over the back of Matteo's hand and eventually says* If you want to tell me more about it... about your mother or your parents you can do that anytime... doesn't have to be now... but maybe sometime... *looks up at him and gives him a brief, tender kiss on his mouth* *murmurs* I'm here, okay?

Matteo: *nods slowly* *smiles at the kiss* Okay... maybe some time... later... after you've met her... *kisses him again and automatically slides closer to him*

David: *smiles at Matteo's words and nods* Okay... *gets another kiss and feels how Matteo slides closer to him* *softly grabs his neck so that Matteo won’t release the kiss and deepens it* *runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower and then back over his neck and his cheek* *a feeling of happiness rushes through him when he thinks about the fact that he can kiss Matteo whenever he wants now*

Matteo: *makes out with David on his armchair a little longer until his stomach rumbles once again* *laughs and apologizes* *they decide to get some food and go to the kitchen to make some sandwiches, which they take back to Matteo's room* *they then move from the armchair to the bed* *at some point, Matteo puts on some quiet music and they lie there and talk* *Matteo tells him a little more about his friends, who is or was dating whom or who's crushing on whom, what they are like* *David talks a little about Laura and his godmother* *at some point in the evening they order pizza and Matteo manages to get it and be back in his room without being held up by one of his flatmates* *after eating the pizza they are more quiet and make out more than talk*

David: *really enjoyed the entire day with Matteo and felt incredibly comfortable* *found it interesting to learn more about Matteo's friends and thus more about Matteo and thinks that being with him like that has a completely different meaning now as finally nothing is standing between them anymore* *is lying on the bed with Matteo after eating the pizza - by now both of them only in their T-shirts, as sweaters and hoodies were getting too warm - and enjoys the closeness to him and that they don't need many words right now* *runs his fingers over Matteo’s neck while they kiss and can't really resist the urge to be even closer to him* *therefore deepens the kiss and moves closer to Matteo* *pushes his leg between Matteo's legs and wraps his arm around his back* *moves his arm softly up and down his back*

Matteo: *feels a pleasant shudder when David pulls him closer* *has his hand in David's hair and pushes himself even closer to David* *kisses him and notices how his entire body reacts to David* *his /entire/ body* *panics all of a sudden as he doesn't know what he should do and might do something wrong* *pulls away from David and exhales deeply* Sorry... I... *is still slightly out of breath and has to collect himself a little* Well, I... *swallows hard and then looks at him* I have never...

David: *because of the closeness to Matteo he can feel that all this making out doesn't leave Matteo unaffected either and notices that he feels the same way* *doesn't have any idea where this might lead to but is too aroused to think about this now* *lets everything happen and loses himself in this feeling and is therefore slightly confused and a little breathless when Matteo suddenly pulls away* *asks himself briefly if he did something wrong and it takes some time for Matteo's words to get through to him* *swallows and then smiles slightly when he understands what Matteo is trying to tell him* *puts a hand on his cheek and looks back at him* Me neither... *gnaws at his bottom lip and tries to sort his thoughts* *asks quietly* So you never, ever? Neither with boys nor girls? *thinks that the question sounds somewhat stupid and blushes slightly* *assumed that Matteo had slept with Sara but likes the thought that apparently that wasn't the case and that it will be the first time for both of them*

Matteo: *immediately feels stupid and thinks that he shouldn't have told him and should have just kept going* *but then he feels David's hand on his cheek and relaxes a little* *closes his eyes briefly when he says he hasn’t either and is somehow extremely relieved* *opens his eyes at his question* *can assume that David is talking about Sara and shakes his head* No... boys never offered themselves... and with girls... I didn't want to... *bites lightly on his bottom lip* So... well... it didn't come out of nowhere that she was able to put two and two together so quickly, I guess...

David: *laughs at Matteo's words and feels his heart do a little jump* *knows that it probably shouldn't matter but it still means something to him that apparently they'll make this first experience together* *thinks that right now Matteo looks so open and slightly unsure but so beautiful that he just has to lean forward to kiss him again* *searches for words and eventually says quietly* So far, that was out of question... there wasn't anybody I trusted enough that it could have even come close to that... *moves closer to him again, gets a little nervous and feels his heart jump to his throat when he whispers* But with you, I could imagine it...

Matteo: *immediately closes his eyes when David kisses him* *looks at him again when he talks and feels even the last bit of tension leave his body* *nods slightly at his words and feels his heart beat faster* I feel the same... *closes the distance between them and kisses him again* *at first softly and tenderly but then he deepens the kiss and pulls him a little closer* *is about to carefully push his hand under David's T-shirt when there is a knock on his door* *can’t even react before the door opens and Hans is standing in his room* Hello, my butterfly, Linn said... Oh! Hello! *Matteo sat up to at least attempt to shield David a little* Hans, out!

David: *almost beams when Matteo says that he feels the same, but then gets kissed and pulled closer by him* *deepens the kiss together with Matteo and quickly realizes that they pick up right where they left off earlier* *flinches when there is a knock on the door and only seconds later Hans is standing in the room* *blushes and gets flustered and is relieved when Matteo sits up to shield him a little even though he immediately misses being close to Matteo* *hears Hans laugh at Matteo's request: "Oh, you sweethearts, I didn't want to interrupt... let me know if you need anything! Keep going! Have fun"!* *blushes even more at Hans' words but actually hears the door close and then it's quiet* *lays there petrified and shocked for a moment but then he pulls Matteo back down and half on top of him* *grins slightly* You heard him… keep going... *searches for his lips again and deepens the kiss* *eventually puts a hand under Matteo's shirt and softly strokes it up and down his back* *loves how soft his skin is there and realizes that he wants to feel more of that* *at some point hears distant voices coming from the living room - Mia and Hans: "Why can't you fold your laundry in your room for a change!!? Give them some privacy!" - "But here I'm closer to the action... in case they need anything..."* *stops listening to the discussion but still feels a little under observation* *is glad when it soon gets silent again in the living room but can't quite turn off the thought that somebody is sitting there, listening to every noise coming from Matteo's room* *hears Hans laughing loudly all of a sudden and stops the kiss a little* *murmurs* We could also go to my place...

Matteo: *laughs a little when David pulls him back toward him* *manages to suppress the interruption and continues* *can also hear the voices coming from the living room and thinks that somehow this isn’t great* *sighs when he hears Hans’ laugh and pulls David back* *is really glad about his suggestion* Yes, please… *gives him another short kiss and slowly pulls away* Sorry... I never thought they'd all stay home on a Saturday night... *gets up slowly together with David* *both of them get dressed again and Matteo stops at the door* Okay... the plan is get through the living room quickly, grab jackets, bag and shoes and then we're out of here... don't give Hans any chance *grins a little*

David: *laughs quietly at Matteo's answer and grumbles a little when he slowly pulls away after the short kiss* *doesn't want to let him go at all* *shrugs at Matteo's apology, smiles and murmurs* No problem... you couldn't have known... *gets up with a sigh and puts his sweater back on* *then says* Maybe my sister will be at home, but she usually spends her evenings in her room and probably won't disturb... *at least he hopes so* *would really like to continue what they started without any interruptions* *grins at Matteo's words once they're at the door and nods* Okay - go in and win... or rather: go in and flee! *gets ready and follows Matteo when he opens the door* *has to grin when he sees Hans sitting in the living room in front of the TV with a pile of laundry and doesn't react to his comment: "Oh, do you need anything?! Are you leaving"?* *only grabs his stuff, puts on his shoes quickly and leaves the flat with Matteo* *has to laugh when the door closes behind them* Made it! *briefly pulls Matteo against him and kisses him hard but brief* And now let's hurry... I want to continue where we left off!

(next play)

[blurry-fics]

Chapter Twelve

Where Did We Go | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, angry!Tyler

Word Count: 2049

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you enjoy this chapter today :) (picture credit)

I idly drew doodles in the margins of my notepad as the team droned on about some matter that didn’t really concern me. My head was so heavy on my hand that I knew it would leave a mark when I finally pulled away, but I didn’t care. Next to me, Josh actually seemed to be paying attention, but he was still drumming his fingers on the table. I liked the beat.

Another song lyric floated through my brain, so I quickly wrote it down beneath the others before it got away from me. Lately, it felt like the only thing these meetings were good for was coming up with fragments of song lyrics and making my throat sore. Nothing else productive ever seemed to get done.

“We got the visuals back from the artists. I have some stills here, but you should all be receiving an email tonight with the full videos for review.”

Now this actually seemed interesting. I scribbled down the words “visual review” in the corner of my page, ripped it off, and stuck it into my pocket. Nobody seemed to notice.

“We think that the visuals are adequate, but not exactly as we intended.”

We?

“And as a result, we’re thinking about cutting the payment of the artists. This will also save us some room in the budget to put elsewhere.”

I leaned forward in my chair. People’s eyes immediately went to me, anticipating what I was about to say.

“Cutting the artist’s pay? How do we know if their work is ‘adequate’ or not if my team hasn’t even had a chance to do a full review?”

“Well our artistic board-”

“Exactly, your artistic board. Last time I checked, your artistic board isn’t the one putting on a show,” I said. “And no matter how we feel about the visuals, the artists did the work and deserve full payment for their time and effort.”

“But they didn’t deliver-”

“They did. The visuals were done to the best of their ability and provided by the deadline that we gave them. We’re giving them full payment and my team can decide whether the work is satisfactory or not.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Joseph, but then we’re going to have to raise ticket prices to make up for the losses.”

“What is all this crap about raising ticket prices?” My voice was getting louder now. “We gave you the budget months ago! Everything was laid out with enough money to cover all costs and keep ticket prices exactly where we wanted them, but your company decided to put things off until it didn’t work anymore.” Josh reached out and put a hand on my back. My shoulders relaxed, but my voice remained raised. “Our fans are not in charge of paying the price for your poor choices. That art looks fantastic and, if I’m being honest, the only people here that aren’t delivering satisfactory work is you.”

I stood up then, sending my chair flying out behind me. Josh’s hand fell away from my back. I turned on my heel and headed for the door, still fuming.

“Where are you going?” someone asked. I couldn’t place the voice.

“I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in ten.”

I walked down the hallway, unsure of where I was going, until I found a sign marked with the stairs. My hands were curled into fists at my side until my nails were digging into my palms. It had been a long time since I was this angry, but the stupidity of the company we had chosen to put on this tour was sending me over the edge. Tour was only a week and a half away and it still felt like we had more loose ends than we did answers.

Most of all, I hated that this was what I was missing out on time with my family for.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and immediately dialed Y/N’s number. She would know what to say to get me calm again before I walked back into that conference room. My leg bounced as the phone rang, alleviating only a small portion of the emotions I was feeling. They were quickly getting overwhelming.

“Tyler?” she answered. Just that simple word was enough to release some of the tension in my shoulders.

“Hi, love.”

“What’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, “Yes, but it’s not going well. I just blew up on the company representative.”

“Oh no,” she sighed. “What are they trying to get you to do today?”

“Raise ticket prices again! It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them I don’t want to do that, they won’t let it go.”

“Ty, hey, it’s ok. At the end of the day, you still have the power in this situation.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Is there somewhere else that you can cut costs a little bit? Weren’t you talking about maybe switching out some of the fancier effects for something a little simpler?”

“Yeah, there’s definitely places that we could do it, they just don’t like to listen to those ideas as much. It’s hard to convince them that it would actually help the budget.”

“I know, but it’s worth a shot. It’s like I’ve been saying, you and Josh just need to team up and get your ideas in there. Plus, you have Mark to back you up too. The power is there.”

“I’ll talk to them before the next meeting and really get things solid. I hate to ignore the progress that we are making, but the problems just feel so much bigger right now.”

“You’re going to get this worked out, Ty. I know you will. Think of how much you’ve been through to get here. Even if, at the end of the day, things don’t work out exactly how you want them to, you know people will be happy as long as you’re there singing the songs with them. You were popular even before you had the big productions.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I’ll try to keep that in mind. I just get so wrapped up in this vision that Josh and I created that I forget it’s the music that really matters. Thank you.”

“Of course. I know the show is going to be great no matter what you end up doing.”

“You always know the right thing to say,” I smiled.

“It’s a talent of mine,” she laughed.

“I just wish that I wasn’t stuck at this stupid meeting today.”

“It’s ok, Ty,” she said, but I could tell that her tone had changed. “You’re doing important band stuff. We’ll have a break soon enough.”

“I hope so.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the door to the stairs swinging open. Josh’s head poked through the door, quickly scanning the area. Relief came over his face as soon as he saw me.

“There you are. We need you back in the conference room. Things are happening.”

“Ok, let me finish this up and then I’ll be there.”

Josh nodded and disappeared again, letting the door swing shut behind him. I waited for it to fully close before I started talking to Y/N again.

“Sorry about that. Josh showed up.”

“I heard.”

“Anyway, I guess they need me back there.”

“Time to let you go?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I love you, and don’t let them get to you, ok, Ty? I know you can find a way to put on the show you’ve been dreaming about.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you remember that I’m going over to my parents’ tonight for dinner?”

“I remember now,” she laughed. It sounded forced.

“Ok.”

“Good luck, Ty.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I ended the call, now feeling a different sort of discomfort in my chest. It took me a moment to finally get off the steps and walk out the door back towards the conference room. My mind was running its endless loop of questions, but no matter where I looked, I came up with no answers. It felt like a weight in my head, dragging me further and further down.

I hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

*     *     *

The meeting finally ended around four that night. There was another one scheduled for the next day - which the company claimed would be the last additional meeting we had to schedule - although after today’s events, I was feeling hopeful. They were finally starting to listen to the ideas that Josh and I had, helped along by the fact that Y/N had given me a new sense of confidence about the show. After a few more emails and phone calls, I was sure that things would finally start coming together.

My mom was the one to open the door when I knocked. She immediately pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tight enough that I nearly coughed. I didn’t blame her, I had only been able to find enough time to see my family once since I had gotten home from tour a week and a half ago, and most of my siblings hadn’t even been around. This time had been a little more planned so that Zack and Maddy would be able to stop by too.

“I’ve missed you so much,” my mom said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’ve missed you too, Mom.”

I went around and hugged each of my siblings and my dad. It was nice to have everyone together again for a family dinner. The last time we had a get together like this was before the Australian leg of the tour nearly a month and a half ago.

“Dinner is already ready, if you guys want to eat. I made it early since I figured you would be hungry after your meeting, Tyler.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

Everyone stayed pretty quiet, aside from small talk, as we dished up our food. I was sure that my family was full of questions to ask me, but they knew better than to try and ask before I was settled at the table. Right now, my mind was on food and food only.

We eventually all sat down at the table in the places that we had been assigned since childhood. Once everyone was comfortable and had taken a couple bites of food, the questions slowly began to come out.

“How was your meeting today, Tyler?” my dad asked.

“It was alright. I kind of blew up on the representative today-”

“Tyler,” my mom chimed in. Zack barely concealed a laugh.

“Mom, listen, it’s only because they keep trying to make us raise ticket prices even though we’ve had the budget planned out for weeks. It didn’t matter how many times I told them that wasn’t going to happen, they kept insisting.”

My mom kept a disappointed look on her face, but deep down I could tell that she knew I was right. From day one, she had always made sure that I knew staying true to myself was vital as I continued to pursue music. That advice had stuck with me since.

“Are they starting to listen though?” Maddy asked. “I mean, there’s only like a week and a half until tour starts, right?”

“Yeah, they’re finally coming around. Josh and I have been fighting with them pretty much all week, though. They’re bringing us in for another meeting tomorrow.”

“Another one?” Jay asked.

“They flew Josh in?” Zack chimed in right after.

“Yes and yes. That’s how big of a problem all of this is.”

“Geez,” my dad said. “That sounds intense.”

“It is. I’m barely hanging on by a thread here.”

My mom reached over and reassuringly rubbed my shoulder. “You’re safe here, Tyler. We’re not going to let you fall.”

I quickly glanced around the table to see that the rest of my family was nodding along with my mom. Warmth spread throughout my chest at knowing that they still had my back, even if I couldn’t always make as much time as I wanted to for them. At the end of the day, they were still my family.

We’re not going to let you fall.

*     *     *     *     *

Taglist

@tylersheavydirtysoul @faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @shaytwentyonep @tyler-josephs-floof @angelicopioid​ @topownsmyheart @harishaanne @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah @somethingboutyou1 @boiled-onionrings @heythereitm3 @gaysludge @breadbinishigh​ @5secondsofmoxley​ @patdsinner33​ @littlerachelbee​ @royal-avengers​

[eye-zen]

SILENE

The sun blended with the bright blue sky like an ornament. Waves crashed on the beach, bringing with it small stones from the sea and sand that became buried between her toes. An ocean breeze opened her nasal passages and a gust of sea salt covered her inhale, The white sandy beach was empty and serene as if she were the only human left on earth. For that moment, I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded if that were true. Using her right pointer finger she drew in the sand, writing, “Where Am I Right Now ? “ As she finished writing, a wave swept along the beach erasing her words.

*TIK TOK TIK TOK TIK TOK TIK TOK TIK TOK”

 Her hand was balled up in a fist resting on her right cheek,reluctantly holding her head up. She looked at the clock across the room as it read 8:07 am. The sound of the clock was the loudest thing in the empty office. Echoing a constant reminder that this would be her serene beach for the next 8 hours or 28,800 tik toks to be exact. Her desk was covered in a mound of paper that would be better suited for a beach bonfire but….who wants to get fired on a Friday.

Usually she sat at her desk diligently doing her work and occasionally looking out the window. Daydreaming about staring out of a plane or reading a novel under a palm tree. Her daydreaming at moments felt so real that she became upset whenever she “snapped back to reality”.  Wishing one day that her eyes opened and the image of what she imagined would not escape her brown eyes.

She finished her tasks just before noon with a wearisome four hours remaining to the end of her shift. Opening her laptop she exited out of the work programs and logged on to the internet. 

Searching google, she typed the question “How Do you lucid dream ? “  An array of images and articles flooded the screen with many directions and tips for lucid dreaming. She clicked through at least 6 pages of tips before the alarm on her phone went off signaling the beginning of lunch. Reaching in her tote, she retrieved a black plastic bag with a bowl of yesterday’s dinner. It was still warm from this morning as she heated it up before leaving the house. Sitting at her desk and eating she continued to look through the many articles and images. There were thousands of people with advice but who was right ?

As she continued browsing…her phone vibrated from a text message…

You’re right, The world has finally gone crazy lol…

Yes, I know lol…

If there was a off button to make everyone STFU I would like to push it..

Lol well I think there is. It’s called Wifi and Tv. 

Lol wow, I think you’re right. I’m literally witnessing people go crazy. Just from watching the news on TV and self proclaimed scientists, politicians, and news reporters on social media. 

Lol yea i see. Well today I was spared from those at work but well see how the rest of the day goes.

.Lol right, Well what are you doing later ?

I’m not sure yet. No plans, just going home and relaxing, maybe go to the beach.

Ok cool, The beach ? what beach are you going too.

None smh..lol I wish though, Have to speak things into existence. 

Yes! You’re right about that. I’ll speak to you later.

Okay…

Time after lunch went relatively quickly. She read enough about dreams to receive her bachelor’s degree and doodled enough to fill a whole children’s book. The clock read 3:50 pm. She thought to herself, 10 more minutes until I’m free. She began cleaning her desk and organizing the folders back accordingly. There was a pile of papers of doodles accumulated from the day. She began throwing them away in the trash. One drawing in particular captured her attention so she decided to keep it. Folding it neatly and placing it in a small zippered compartment on her bag. After a final check of her desk she stood up and left the office.

On the way home she stopped at the grocery store and ran a couple of errands. Once she entered her front door a sigh of relief hit her like falling on a thick pile of feathers. 

She placed her groceries on the kitchen counter and washed her hands. Sat down in the chair and answered an incoming text message.

Hey, do you still want to go to the beach ?

 what ? I mean yea but when ? I know you don’t mean now.

Sure..yes, now..sooo do you still want to go ?

Do you see what time it is

Yes, I know. We have all the time in the world. 

Lol ok. If you say so…

.

She unpacked her groceries then walked to her bedroom. After undressing then headed to the shower. Bathing herself with a sweet lavender soap that washed off the filth of the day. Following her shower she went back to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed. There, she laid and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. The black oscillating fan dried her off and swayed her curtains back and forth. Her bag lay at the side of the bed, she rolled over, unzipped a pocket and pulled out the drawing she kept from work. It was a drawing of a beach. There was a full moon that shone bright in the night sky leaving a streak of glistening water in the sea. On the beach was a small bonfire pit and a few feet away from that was a large blanket just under a leaning palm tree. She stared at the drawing for a few minutes before placing it on the nightstand near her bed. After a few deep breaths she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

*ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS, FLIGHT NUMBER 1135 WILL BE BOARDING IN 15 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO GATE 7 AND PREPARE TO BOARD YOUR FLIGHT*

The airport was hardly crowded. It was a Tuesday afternoon with a slight overcast. A few people could be seen stretched out on airport chairs awaiting their flight as a few other gates began boarding. Two or three airport workers were canvassing the terminal wiping down seats and searching for trash on the floor. She had a bag of chips that were almost finished and a bottle of water she used to wash it down, Her black sweatpants and hoodie had managed to accumulate a few crumbs. With her phone in her lap she used her pinkie finger to swipe through music switching from song to song. 

After finishing the bag of chips she wiped her hand with a paper towel and made her way to the bathroom and back to the boarding gate. Passport and ticket in hand she passed through the gate and walked down the long corridor to the plane. The flight was relatively empty. When she boarded the plane and sat down there were plenty of seats unoccupied. She was assigned to the middle seat in her row. After 15 minutes there seemed to be no one else coming so she moved to the window seat and placed her bag in the seat next to her.

*THANK YOU FOR BOARDING FLIGHT 1135 , PLEASE BE SEATED, FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT AND PREPARE FOR TAKEOFF*

As the flight attendant began giving the flight instructions she turned her phone on airplane mode and put the playlist on shuffle. The plane began making its way up the airstrip and increased in speed. The plane’s engine began roaring as her back pressed firmly against the seat. Within seconds the slowly began ascending off the ground and towards the sun. She opened the window cover and was now adjacent with the clouds. 

 *GOOD AFTERNOON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING. WE WILL BE CLIMBING TO 30,000 FEET. PLEASE REMAIN SEATED UNTIL WE REACH THAT ALTITUDE. THIS FLIGHT IS SCHEDULED TO TAKE 5 HOURS. THE WEATHER IS PRETTY CLEAR UP HERE SO WE EXPECT A SMOOTH RIDE. SIT BACK RELAX AND THANK YOU FOR FLYING WITH US. 

*BUZZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ*

The phone vibrated the bed but it was nowhere in sight. With eyes still closed she felt around for it until it stopped vibrating. The fan was still spinning like propellers and had moved the curtain just enough to see out the window. The sun was down but the last bit of light created a purple hue in the sky covered by fresh white clouds. She rolled over and the phone was just under her left leg. When she looked at it, it read…

DO YOU STILL WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH ?

SURE, WHY NOT…

OK MEET ME AT MY HOUSE IN 50 MINUTES…

OK..

She laid in bed for a few minutes before heading to the kitchen for a drink. While she was in there, she grabbed a bottle of water and walked back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of her bed she browsed through her phone for a few minutes before preparing to go out. 

I AM ON MY WAY..WILL BE THERE IN ABOUT 7 MINUTES.

OK…..WHEN YOU GET HERE JUST OPEN THE GATE AND COME IN.

OK…COOL

The sky was black as tar and the stars painted trails across its surface. The moon was full and occasionally blanketed by passing clouds. There was a slight breeze, warm enough to wear shorts but cool enough for a long sleeve shirt or hoodie. As she approached the black gate, insects could be heard speaking in the bush and dogs barking in the distance. She opened the gate as it squealed and closed it gently behind her. Immediately a hammock caught her attention hanging just under the house. She laid her bag down on a nearby chair and sat in the hammock. As she sat down he exited the front door of the house with two cups in hand.

WHAT’S UP…I HOPE YOU AREN’T ALLERGIC TO NUTS.

NO, I’M NOT.

 OK COOL…WELL I MADE A SMOOTHIE. IT HAS BANANA, NUTMEG, PEANUT BUTTER, HONEY AND DATES

UHhhh…..SOUNDS INTERESTING…

JUST TRY IT….

OK.

She took a sip of the smoothie and didn’t die so she began drinking some more.

OK, SO IT’S NOT THAT BAD

LOL OK COOL

Yea SO WHAT BEACH ARE WE GOING TO THIS TIME OF NIGHT.

WELL WE HAVE TIME, BE THERE IN A MINUTE. 

They both sat there and drank their smoothies until finished. Talking and discussing their days and plans for the weekend. 

WELL I KNOW YOU HAD A LONG WEEK…

HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT ?

BECAUSE YOU HAVE A JOB..DOESN’T IT COME WITH THE TERRITORY

 WELL IN MY CASE I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT..

SO I WANT TO HELP YOU WIND DOWN AND RELAX 

OK…HELP LIKE WHAT ?

He walks back in the house for a few minutes and comes back out with a small bag.

OK…SO…THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO CALL A DREAM KIT.

Lol ok….A DREAM KIT ? You just got weird on me,,

LOL NAH JUST TRUST ME.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a bottle of lavender oil, diffuser , and Shea. He placed each item on the table just left of the hammock.

JUST RELAX…LAY BACK AND TAKE DEEP BREATHS. 

He picks up his phone and turns on a sound of waves, similar to the sounds at a beach. 

OK…WOW SO IS THIS YOUR BEACH….SMH

He then puts lavender into the diffuser, letting out a warm scent of lavender that complimented the brisk night air. As she takes deeper breaths her body relaxes more and she falls deeper into the hammock. He grabs a piece of shea from the small container then puts a flame to it. The shea begins to melt in his hand and spreads across his palms. He then picks up the bottle of lavender oil and puts a drop in his hand along with the shea. Rubbing his hands quickly together he creates heat and then grabs her foot. Firmly squeezing until the heat transferred from his hand to her feet. She takes an even deeper breath and inhales the soothing lavender air. He began firmly pressing on her feet inch by inch removing the tension as the stress began escaping with each press. A few minutes had gone by as she laid in silence and gently moaning from the massage. 

ARE YOU OK ?

She replied…Yes.

 OK, well I need you to do one thing for me. 

What is that ?

I need you to continue breathing slowly and deeply. Focus on your inhale and your exhales. Synchronize your breaths with the sound of the waves. 

OK, and then what ?

 WITH EVERY INHALE THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT AND WITH EVERY EXHALE DISPEL ALL NEGATIVE THOUGHTS.

OK…

Her body temperature began rising and her breaths got deeper and deeper. After a final exhale her body got a tingling sensation and everything went black. When she blinked her eyes she looked up at the moon and its mesmerizing presence. As she continued gazing at the moon she could hear the waves crashing in the background. Her eyes slowly panned until she was staring at the sea. In disbelief she looked around and realized she was on the beach. The hammock was now a large quilt and it was under a palm tree instead of the house. A few feet to the left of her was a small bonfire with crackling wood. She stood up and started walking towards the water. A wave washed her feet and removed all of the sand, only to put more in between her toes. She began walking up the beach, feet sinking deep into the sand with every step. She walked towards the moon which was so large it felt as though she could grab it. 

.

HEY ! ….you couldn’t hear me ?

Huh…um no. No, I couldn’t hear anything. 

Dam,Yea you was knocked out for a couple of hours.

At that moment an alarm goes off..

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Oh No not again… SMH

Not again what… What’s wrong ?

Don’t tell me this is another D…

Yes…….it’s another Dinner. That’s the alarm for dinner at the restaurant on the beach. Did you not like the food last time ?

She turns around and sees a trail of lights and hears the faint sound of laughter, music, and forks clanking against plates.

No, It’s ok, Lets go

We have to be there in 20 minutes. Let’s try to make it on time today,

They both started walking on the beach towards their belongings.

.

Wow..i Just had the weirdest dream. Felt like I was there……

[amicweald]

Poems for strangers - Luke Hemmings

The tranquillity flowing around your head followed the lines you’d draw on your notebook smoothly, composing the silhouette of a posing man. Your stained hand would leave accidental charcoal spots as you slid the pencil over his body, shading the figure imperfectly offering a perfect purpose to it. I broke down your mountains, but never you I didn’t walk 13 thousand miles, but I would have walk 100 And to climb a mountain might have been fun, but your curves will always be my favourites The ghost of the melody danced between your ears as if a guitar was chasing after the words. A bass was added, trembling with your heart and then, came the drums as footsteps coming closer. As stomps grew closer, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. The lyrics fell down your back fading as you opened your eyes up to the new voice entering your headspace. “Hey!” he smiled stepping back, fearing the answer “Hi, uhm…I’m Luke.” The blonde haired boy stretched out his hand towards you and you friendly took it shaking it “Hi, there” you smiled confused, you not very used to random people introducing themselves. You were resting on the immensity of red cinema chairs, that the small venue, where you worked, had. Alone and happily enjoying your lunchtime sketching and humming bodies and lyrics, away from the burning hell that summer had to fill the streets with. “Ahm, you know, actually” he began, pushing the cushioned seat down to sit next to you “I’m part of this band, 5 Seconds of Summer, and I don’t know if you know us but we’re playing here at-” “I know.” you interrupted him unintentionally, making him stop with his arm up still point at the stage, where the band would play that night. “What? Wait, you listen to us?” his smile grew bigger as the guilt in your chest increased just as fast. You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding his blue eyes “Well, no… I just happen to work here” you smiled hoping he wouldn’t eat you out of anger “I know every artist who comes up in this stage, It’s kind of what I do” you laugh uncomfortably. He was so pretty, maybe if you’d have lied he would’ve kept smiling. Idiot. “Oh, you work here…” he sank a little into his chair and before he could speak you continue to try to make him feel better “I work here as a summer job, yeah. Sometimes I help with lights or sound, scenarios, but the thing that I’m known for is the calendar, I basically remind everyone of what’s happening” you laughed, and he smiled back sympathetically “I don’t really have time to listen to music outside these stages” He laughed loudly, as a sense of relief rushed through your body “Well, that’s a bummer, there’s a lot of amazing artists and albums out there nowadays” “I bet, but trust me, the only music I get to hear throughout the year is the same old boring ones my teachers insists on making me dance to.” your hands joined on your knees, tugging your notebook closer to you. He was such a taller presence next to you. You felt his strong cologne hugging your body making it impossible to forget, his pierced smile made momentarily your heart race and you felt your face grow warmer when you notice his dimples. “You dance in class? I don’t remember that being a thing back when I was your age” he joked. “I’m majoring in dancing, dumb head.” he hummed at you with a smile “‘Back when you were my age’ was like a week ago. You’re like what? 19?” “Close. I’m 20” his hand grabbed his chin, joking a seductive look “Guess I still keep my looks, huh?” you laugh hiding your face behind your hands “And you? How old are you?” “A strong 18 and a half years old, sir” you announced proudly. “So, does this 18 and a half ballerina have a name?” “I didn’t introduce my self, did I?” your cheeks burnt pink just as your bottom lip did, while Luke shook his head amused in the background “I’m Y/n, sorry” “You really don’t look like a dancer, Y/n” he bit his bottom lip next to his black piercing. Something tickled inside your belly before you replied “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t have the ballet girl body?” His dimples deepened watching you smile “No, no. You’re perfectly fine. I just thought of you more like a musician.” You’re perfectly fine. “A musician?” you laughed. “That was actually the reason why I came to talk to you.” you watch his lips carefully following his hand movements as the voice that was meant to haunt your memory spoke “Me and my band are doing some gigs here and there but we’re trying to build a new album and we’re just looking for inspiration and different points of view of the world, you know. I was going to ask you if you write poems or even music.” the chant of his voice almost distracted you from the question, the one you blushed at, trying not to give away that in your hands were the pages that you filled with melodies, verses and doodles. “Well, I guess sometimes I do.” “Do ever shared them with anyone?” “Rarely, only when I think it’s decent enough” “What do you think of writing a poem or show me one of yours and I’ll arrange a song with it?” his blue eyes pierced your shiny ones to reach your soul, it was hard to deny such offer, but most importantly to deny such a man. “Really? Like you guys would sing and play it?” “Yeah, of course. That’s like the whole point of this album” his smile came up again. His black painted nails drummed against the armrest of the chair, his forearm led up to his bicep hugged tightly by the sleeve of his shirt. His collarbones poked out off out of the shirt’s collar and you felt yourself lost in burning cheeks again. He was beautiful. “That would be awesome” you smiled for the 100th time to him “I actually keep the poems I wrote in here” you looked down at the book in your hand, leading his eyes to it. Looking at it you felt embarrassed by the messiness of notebook: it was stained in its sides, had papers of different sizes folded in it and it was ridiculously fat “I need to get a new one”. “And you write 'sometimes’ you say?” he looked surprised at the notebook, resisting the temptation of open it immediately and read the creativity of the girl in front of him. “Well sometimes in a day, I guess.” you shyly replied. “I knew you wrote poems, you just have that vibe.” he laughed. You opened up the notebook you’ve never shown to anyone. All the thoughts that fill your mind orderer into rhyming sentences were overflowing that book. “I strangely trust you, Luke” you slowly search through the pages, looking for a poem that you were mildly proud of until you reached one about yourself and your journey as to accept you as you were. You apprehensively look at his royal eyes and something weird felt down your body. A sense of safeness excessed from his iris and his endearing smile felt like you were being held warmly behind your back. You hand him over the poem and you breathe deeply while he blandly mouthed your handwriting. After a minute he breath out the last words, startling you a bit “’I am worth it, I’ve always been’…” he took a moment to sink in your words and you sank in your chair out of embarressement “You know, it’s not that well written and maybe has a poor concept, I-” “This is beautiful, Y/n” he looked back into the mirrors and flowers doodle around the poem, completely aroused. You didn’t notice but your heart was pounding against your chest and didn’t know how to make it stop. You were out of words to say, you were not expecting a compliment, it also didn’t help the pulsation of your heart. You looked down at your now empty and vulnerable hands and the only thing you could think of came out in a whisper “It’s really personal.” Some long seconds went by until his sight left the poem noticing you and your flustered mess again. “Hey” his hand touched gently your shoulder unfocusing your thoughts “I’m a writer too, ok? You don’t need to be scared or embarrassed of what you feel. I do this all the time.” he pointed “It feels like I’m giving all of me to art but sometimes you just need it. You just need to get it out, for someone to listen. This is truly…” he didn’t finish and instead squeeze your arm looking at your soft smile. His eyes burnt your skin and you hid yourself behind your hands, leaning onto the armrest separating you both “I’m such a derp” you said. You heard him chuckled above you. But apart from the melody of his giggle playing in your brain, it was his arms around you that made you freeze in your place. His hands were hugging your back making your skin tickle and burn at the touch through your sweatshirt, your heart skipped a beat and you could hear it relaxing and slowing down again from the euphoric moment. Before he let go your arms travelled to his waist resting on his arms and almost magically, both of you pulled tighter in the hug at the same time, as a puff of his perfume filled your lungs. Here you were hugging a complete stranger, a stranger that had just read something you wouldn’t give to anyone and a stranger who made you feel better than any of your previous boyfriends did. His hand dived into your hair, brushed through it and as he slowly pulled off placed his hand on your cheek. Your head slid off his neck, but he didn’t push away. “Thank you for letting me read that poem. It’s beautifully written.” he whispered. You were inches apart, your noses almost touched and you could smell the mint toothpaste in his breath. Your eyes were stuck on his comforting voice and pink lips, just as his were on yours.   But reality hit Luke softly and he looked down at the opened book on the armrest, as he leaned back your hand placed his biceps fell but he gently caught it holding it around his fingertips. You felt drugged, everything besides from you two was blurry, something stronger than anything you’ve remembered pushed you to him and you couldn’t see any disadvantages in that. With his other hand, he closed the notebook and it seemed like his voice hadn’t gotten deeper and sore, but still gentle "Will I see you tonight?” he asked rubbing his thumbs on your palm, the butterflies were ranging inside. “I wouldn’t miss it.” you looked up to him, forcing him to look back. Suddenly everything was crystal blue, but everything you could focus on was the trembling ocean that the blue would escape to show. His eyebrows furrowed as if he was in pain, as if he didn’t want to feel this way, as if he didn’t want to be this vulnerable again. He led your hand close to his mouth placing a long kiss on it, shivers electrocuted your whole arm. He let your hand fall on your notebook and stood up. You wanted to say something, something that would make him stay, but you couldn’t find a poem to ask and you couldn’t find a melody to sing. “Until then, beautiful.” he left with a smile, which only made you retribute it with another. As he walked out of the room, you looked back to the hand he just kissed. Your heart deeply pounded in your chest, the butterflies fond their way out and they were humming around your head, the lights on the stage seemed brighter and your body lighter. Did I just fell in love with a stranger? But he was no stranger, in your heart, you’ve known him for years.

______

Follow me boos

xx

[waruihoshi]

IMPORTANT TALK !!!

Ok, important talk here. Because it’s related to my productivity and in general my activity on Internet.

Tomorrow will be the beginning of a new life for me : I’ll start living in my own studio during the week and sometimes weekends too, and school will eat almost all my time (week and weekends). I won’t have illimited Internet connection in my studio, but hopefully it’s enough to do a few things.

I won’t have time to be as productive as I was last year, because I’m in a class where you have to work hard everyday, and eventually my free time will be mostly used as sleeping time. But I will still try to draw a few things ^^ And drawing will be a way to relax and have a short break from working, so ...

Plus my parents didn’t allow me to take my tablet with me, at least for the first weeks. They want to see first if I am able to work correctly and to be well organized. I will try my best in order to have my tablet back, but I can’t guarantee anything. And I suppose they won’t let me draw with it during weekends because I am supposed to work and all. 

However I’ll still keep an eye on Tumblr, Youtube, Discord and my mailbox, and I will post a few random things I suppose, so my blog won’t be dead. Mostly sketches and doodles I suppose, but I’ll try to keep doing more quality content, it will just take more time for me to do it.

About the comic, I will find time to do it no matter what, even if it’s only one page every three monthes, I will not stop the story here (plus it’s about to get really interesting ^w^)

So yeah, school starts tuesday, and tomorrow I’ll record something in my studio to say the same stuff on youtube, and you’ll have an idea of how my room looks like now that I have a bed XD. 

It will be hard, but I will try my best to keep my blog alive ^^

If you read that, thanks, because not all people will do so (memes are more attractive than serious talks XD)

And I don’t know how to end that post, so meh.

[hoarding-indigoskies]

A book and a bracelet.

Okay so my absolutely lovely friend @sassyshoulderangel319 has been asking me to write something and last night I couldn’t sleep so I tried to write something. A Thomas Sanders imagine. Hope she likes it and hope everybody else likes it too. Constructive Criticism is most welcome :)

“Lyric wait.”

Lyric turned around to look at Thomas grabbing his bag and calling her. She’d only seen him in class and they'd never talked but he was such a sweetheart, always so polite and kind.

“Yeah Thomas.” Lyric flung her bag on her shoulder as Thomas reached her. They were the last ones left in class only because Lyric always wanted everybody to leave first and Thomas was finishing up his work.

"You know my name??" Thomas had looked quite surprised to see his name leave Lyric's lips.

"Of course I do, Thomas. You're in almost all my classes and it's really hard to forget the name of a guy who’s so sweet and helpful."

"Oh." Thomas' cheeks turned red and he gave a shy smile that made his eyes lit up and made 'em look like two chocolate chips melting in the sunlight. His auburn hair fell on his eyes no matter how many times he tried to push them back, and it was kinda adorable to watch.

"I never thought you noticed me. You always look so lost and happy in your own lil' world, listening to music on your iPod or reading a new book every week and scribbling a thousand words and doodling endlessly in that blue leather book of yours like it's the only thing that really matters." Thomas commented.

Now it was Lyric's turn to blush but she hid it well and said "That's because I like my little world, it's calm and relaxing and I don't "scribble" a thousand words." Making air quotes around the word scribble and stared blankly at Thomas. Thomas was about to reply that he didn't mean it that way when Lyric cocked her head to one side, her raven black her falling to one side and smirked "Try more like a million words." Thomas looked relieved and then the both of them started to chuckle loudly like two kids on a playground.

When both of them caught their breath, Lyric sat down on one of the nearby benches and folded her legs beneath her. Then she motioned to Thomas who did the same.

Lyric then took out her blue leather bound notebook that she always carried with her and started doodling in it. “You called for me". She looked up at Thomas who was looking fascinatingly at her notebook."Huh" came a soft and unhelpful reply. "You called me, before, when we were leaving class?” Lyric tried bringing him back to topic. Thomas still not registering what she said, pointed to the notebook and asked "Can I see??" Lyric was a bit hesitant but then thought that it was Thomas who was asking, the sweetest guy in any of her classes and handed it over to him. “Yeah sure.”

“Thanks,” Thomas looked ecstatic to be looking at the blue book which he’d only ever seen when Lyric was busy writing in it. He’d always thought it was like the TARDIS from Doctor Who. Bigger on the inside with a whole world in its hundreds of pages some a bit crumpled, some old  and some pages that weren’t of the book but seemed to belong there. As he flipped through Lyric's journal he found out he was right. It was indeed the TARDIS. It had her favorite quotes, original poems by her (which were beautiful btw), many amazing pieces of art she'd done and sooo much more. It was like looking through a portal in Lyric's world. The girl in question watched quietly as Thomas looked through the pages of her journal, who she called Blue. She'd never seen someone look so awestruck by her journal though to be fair she'd never shown it to anybody before. And then she wondered why.

She was thinking about it when Thomas nudged her and handed Blue back to her with a cute smile on his face. "Thank you for letting me see, it's beautiful." "That's sweet of you to say, thanks." Lyric took it from his hands and put it back into her bag. Thomas then gently reached into the back pocket of his jeans and then took out the charm bracelet he'd found near Lyric's chair and gingerly put it in her palm, " You dropped this when you were leaving class".

Her eyes went wide as she took it from her hand and wrapped it around her hand, " Oh My God, how could I drop this !! Thank you soo much Thomas, this was my grandmother's gift to me and I'd go mad if I lost it." She gave him a hug and kept thanking him for finding and returning it to her. " It's okay Lyric" Thomas said after she'd thanked him for the tenth time." OK, so I'll see you later?" Thomas got up from the bench and started to leave.

"Where are you going, that was the last class for the day, wasn't it ??" Lyric inquired.

"Yeah, it was, I am just heading to the library to get started on the English assignment." Thomas replied.

"But isn't that a two-person assignment?" Lyric asked as she got up from the bench and pulled her hair into a bun and put a pencil through it which made her a little too like an elf.

"Yeah it is but I haven't asked anybody and I really don't know if somebody would wanna work with me but I really loved the concept so I though I'd get started on it by myself for now" Thomas said as he walked alongside Lyric to the library.

 " Yeah I think it's an excellent assignment too, take a sonnet from any Shakespearean piece of work and write your own version of it. It’s gonna be fun doing this.”

Just then an idea popped in her mind.” I haven't found a partner too, so why don’t you and I partner up for it ? If that's okay with you?" Lyric stopped and turned to look at Thomas whose eyes seemed to agree with the suggestion. “Are you kidding me? If it's okay by me? I'd love to partner up with you. You write so beautifully and amazingly, it's a pleasure to read what you write. I'd really love to work with you on this assignment."

Lyric beamed at him and extended a hand towards him “Partner?"

Thomas took her hand and shook it. "Partner" came the enthusiastic reply. The two of them then spent the entire day in the library but not a word was written for the English assignment as they spent all that time discussing about their mutual love for books, the kind of music they enjoyed and all about their respective fandoms which ended in them being through out of the library giggling for "disturbing the silence" but it was a good day and the both of them really enjoyed each others company.

[andthentherewere2blog-blog]

I find that no matter how profusely I promise to make more time for meaningful me-time, it just never seems to really materialise and maybe that says more about me and how I prioritise self-care than I’m willing to admit. I tend to need to have an “excuse” to extract myself from the kids and that normally takes the form of blogger events, birthday parties and hair rehabilitation appointments 🙂 So when Nielouphar from Pretty Paper Studio asked if I’d like to try out their latest offering of the For Me DIY Kit, I jumped (almost literally as it’s been a loooooong few weeks) at the chance.

If you haven’t heard about Pretty Paper Studio before, they are a one-stop online Craft shop based in the UAE that aims to not only supply you with all your creative goodies but to build a network and community of like-minded souls. One branch of this offering is the “For Me” DIY kits. These limited edition boxes of fun epitomize the concept of “Mommy Time Out” in that they help you create that space (or in my case excuse) for you to stop and focus on something other than the daily routine.

PPS “For Me” DIY Kit (November Edition) including String Art Kit (Turquoise Boutique Studio); Hand painted candle and clay studs (Rodrigo Creations); Fridge Magnet (Marshy Doodles) and an organic cotton towel (Earth and Ethics).

Each edition of the kit comes out with surprise DIY project and a selection of locally sourced hand-made and artisanal goodies. The November Edition includes the following:

DIY String Art Kit by Turquoise Boutique Studio There is a choice of 3 designs for this month’s DIY kit all of which are equally fun to do and you can choose to do them with or without the kiddies (you know which option I picked!) You’ll be supplied with the majority of the components to complete the design (including a private video tutorial) but if like me you do not own a hammer, be prepared for a trip to the hardware store 🙂

Hand painted candle and Clay Studs by Rodrigo Creations. This was the first time I came across this amazing artist! Have a look at her Instagram page as she has some amazing illustrations and can create personalised gifts for family and loved ones (and teachers – remember it’s almost time to spoil them too!)

Fridge Magnet by Marshy Doodles. If you love brush lettering and watercolours you will definitely have heard about this lovely lady!

Organic Cotton Towel by Earth and Ethics. You need to feel this Khadi Cotton towel to believe it. It is so soft I’m hiding it from the hooligans!

    Therapy in the form of art – creating my String Art Masterpiece

Ok, so maybe String Art is not yet officially a branch of Art Therapy, but I’m telling you it should be! There is something very soothing and relaxing about first venting your frustrations on a tiny nail head followed by the fits of laughter as you realise this is louder than you anticipated and culminating in the steady rhythm of wrapping the string around the nail. Tani from Our Big Dubai Adventure and I chose the newly opened Hamptons Cafe in Jumeirah Islands (apologies again to anyone in the vicinity that was not expecting our musical renditions)! This was the perfect setting, no interruptions, flowing coffee and gorgeous views made for the perfect backdrop.

I was initially worried that I would not be able to do the project justice because while in my head I am the Queen of Pinterest, my artistic talents lie so well buried, some might say they are almost non-existent. The way the kit is put together though, makes it really easy to do regardless of your artistic prowess. You have the option of both a video-based tutorial and a printed out step by step guide so it is perfect even for beginners. Those with more experience or who would like to experiment more can add embellishments and play around with patterns and colour combination so there really is something for all levels.

I’m sure there is a special type of hammer for this – I went for the available and cheap version myself! Works like a dream 🙂

I may have gotten distracted by the light 🙂

The video tutorial makes it so simple to follow!

Feeling pretty proud of myself, until I realised I made a mistake so now I have a very unique piece! Please pretend like you cannot see it!

  The final product!

  Totally do not look awkward ….at all! And hubby wonders why I don’t monetize my blog….this!

  I would, however, remind you that yes, hammering is not a quiet activity so this is not something to squeeze in during the little one’s nap time unless they are very deep sleepers! Overall verdict – the perfect way to get some Mommy Time Out, on your own or with a group of girlfriends at your local. The “For Me” DIY Kit also makes a great gift idea that would work for a teens and adults alike.

Thank you to Nielouphar at Pretty Paper Studio for the opportunity to try out the “For Me” DIY Kit! If you would like to order the November Edition or have a look at some of the previous kits head over to www.ppsuae.com or @PPSUAE on Instagram.

Creating Me Time with the Pretty Paper Studio "For Me" String Art Kit. I find that no matter how profusely I promise to make more time for meaningful me-time, it just never seems to really materialise and maybe that says more about me and how I prioritise self-care than I'm willing to admit.

[theliteraturenerd]

Getting Unstuck, Writers’ thoughts on writer’s block. Illustration by Caitlin Hazell, Article originally published on Rookie

Fran Lebowitz

(From an interview on Bullseye With Jesse Thorn)

I have only one fear in life, and that is of writing.

Up until the point that I got my first actual writing job, I loved to write. I wrote all the time when I was a kid, and when I was a teenager. But the second I got my first $10 writing assignment from a tiny, tiny newspaper, suddenly I hated to write. Part of it is that I just hate work. I am by nature a sloth—I am really lazy, and I really don’t like to work. I have never had any work that I’ve enjoyed.

I’ve spent most of my life reading, and I have probably never read without feeling guilty. I always feel that I’m supposed to be doing something else—and I always am supposed to be doing something else. When I was a kid, I was supposed to be doing homework; as an adult, I’m supposed to be writing. If I tell myself, “Fran, you have to write,” I will not do it. I am so resistant to authority that I am resistant to my own authority.

Writer’s block is painful. There are painful things in our lives that we don’t seem to be able to fix. Things that you know the origin of, you have a high chance of fixing. Obviously, if I knew exactly what this was, I would fix it. I do not know what it is, exactly. I have my theories, but I don’t really know. However, I do not believe that I will never write again. And since no one would ever accuse me of being a cockeyed optimist, probably I will.

Joss Whedon

I wasn’t sure how to start this, so I did anyway. I’ve faced plenty of writer’s block in my time, though maybe less than some. I’ll lay out whatever rules for dealing with it that come to me. I think I’ve already laid out the first.

Control your environment. No one comes or goes. You’re alone, with enough time not only to write but to fall into the place of writing, which can take a while. No internet, no phone. Play music. It can amp the mood and separate you from the people on the other side of the door. (I listen to movie scores when I write. Nothing with lyrics—too distracting. Modern movie scores are very drone-y, in a good way for writers. Just sustained emotion. Hans Zimmer, Rachel Portman, Carter Burwell, Mychael Danna…there’s tons.) Make sure your desk faces the right way. (I have to face the room, not the wall.) Not too much clutter…it all matters.

Start writing. You can overthink anything. You can wind yourself up into a frenzy of inertia by letting a blank page stay blank. Write something on it. (Don’t draw something on it. The moment I doodle on a page I know nothing else will ever go on it. The blank page is scary, but it’s also sacred. Don’t mar it.) Anything can be rewritten—except nothing.

Be specific. You want to write something. Why? What exactly are you going for? Whether you’re at the beginning or the middle or the last damn sentence of something, you need to know exactly what you’re after. Verisimilitude? Laughter? Pain? Something that rhymes with orange? Whatever it is, be very cold about being able to break it down, so even if you walk away, you walk away with a goal.

Stop writing. Know when to walk away, when you’re grinding gears. This is tricky, because it’s easy to get lazy, but sometimes straining for inspiration when it’s not there is just going to tire you out and make the next session equally unproductive. I believe that Stephen King once likened it to kissing a corpse. But then, he would. Walk away, relax, and best of all…

Watch something. Watch, read, listen—it fills the creative tanks, reminds us why we wanted to write in the first place, and often, it’ll unlock the thing that’s missing. That doesn’t mean you’ll see something and subconsciously steal from it (though it doesn’t 100% NOT mean that), it just taps into the creative place a blocked writer can’t access. Very often I’ll see a movie that’ll completely inform what I’m writing, which will bear no resemblance of any kind to that movie. I’ll just know how I want to feel when I’m writing it. (Episode 10 of season three of Buffy: totes indebted to The Last Temptation of Christ.)

Have a deadline. I would probably never get anything written if it weren’t shooting next week. I’m a terrible procrastinator, which means the adrenaline of last-minute panic is my friend. (It’s all that kept me afloat in school, I’m sad to say. My attention has a disorderly deficit. There was no acronym for that when I was little.) But you can create deadlines of your own. Friends are good for this. Make yourself mutually accountable—you have to deliver such-and-many words by this-or-then time, as do they. You might not always (or ever) hold to these, but they can help you remember that your writing may matter to someone besides yourself.

Have rewards. I’m talking about cookies. Actually, I’m finishing with cookies. What matters more? Earn them, then enjoy them.

Malcolm Gladwell

I deal with writer’s block by lowering my expectations. I think the trouble starts when you sit down to write and imagine that you will achieve something magical and magnificent—and when you don’t, panic sets in. The solution is never to sit down and imagine that you will achieve something magical and magnificent. I write a little bit, almost every day, and if it results in two or three or (on a good day) four good paragraphs, I consider myself a lucky man. Never try to be the hare. All hail the tortoise.

Susan Orlean

1. If you think you are suffering from writer’s block, stop writing immediately.

2. Walk away from your computer.

3. Remember this: writer’s block doesn’t exist. What does exist is a condition in which you don’t really know what you’re trying to say, and therefore are having trouble saying it.

4. Don’t try to think of what you’re trying to say—yet. Go do something other than writing or thinking, preferably something where you’ll sweat (running, weeding the garden, walking the dog) or be pleasantly distracted (cooking, going for a drive).

5. When you’re done with that diversion, start thinking about what you still need to learn before you know what you’re trying to say. Don’t start writing yet.

6. Usually this will require making some phone calls, or doing some research. DON’T START WRITING YET.

7. Once you’ve done that additional research and thinking, start composing in your head the idea that got you stuck.

8. Find someone whose opinion you trust. Explain to her what you are writing. Listen to yourself as you’re talking. You’ll be sorting out your thoughts as you’re talking.

9. NOW sit down and try writing that down. If you’re still stuck, maybe you still don’t know what you’re trying to say. Repeat steps 1 through 9. If necessary repeat again. And again.

10. Celebrate getting past a hard part of your writing!

Adrian Tomine

The worst case of writer’s block I’ve ever experienced struck when I was 14, before I’d actually written anything. I knew that I wanted to be a cartoonist more than anything, but thanks to a childhood spent reading superhero comics and science fiction novels, I’d gotten it in my head that you needed not only an idea, but also a plot and even an entire fictional “universe” before you even started, so instead of actually writing or drawing, I sat around wishing I was writing or drawing. And when I did eventually stumble upon what I thought was a suitable idea (e.g., Elric of Melniboné mixed with Neuromancer, only it’s set in an alternate, futuristic version of the 1950s, and all the characters are robots…or are they?), it was so ambitious and convoluted that I would get frustrated and give up before I had completed a single page.

Fortunately, I soon discovered comics by people like Chester Brown, Harvey Pekar, Julie Doucet, Seth, and Joe Matt—people who made comics about themselves, about everyday life. At first I was like, “You can’t just do a story about waking up and making a can of soup for breakfast!” But then I’d find myself thinking about that story for a long time after I’d read it, and going back to those comics and rereading them, trying to figure out what made them so compelling. I wasn’t smart enough to work up any big theories about the true nature of art or anything like that, but I did feel, admittedly arrogantly, that if they could do stories like that, so could I.

I felt like I’d been trapped behind a massive roadblock for years, and suddenly I was able to just hop right over it. I could write and draw about anything, even the most mundane occurrence in my generally mundane teenage life. The ideas had been there all along, I just didn’t realize that they counted.

Then, of course, I was faced with the realization that making comics was about so much more than just coming up with an idea or a story. Contrary to what I’d believed when I was sitting around endlessly brainstorming (“I’m an amazing cartoonist…all I need is an idea!”), I was terrible. It was obvious that I had a lot of practice and learning ahead of me. But I was actually, finally, writing and drawing; and I was surprised to discover that once I started making comics, those elusive ideas came to me with much greater ease than when I was sitting there staring at a blank sheet of paper. They weren’t high-concept blockbuster ideas, but they were stories I was eager to tell, and that’s a great feeling.

Julie Klausner

Writer’s block is hardly ever a symptom of having nothing to say. It’s usually just your dumb lizard brain beating yourself up because you’re afraid of (in this order, at least for me):

1. Discomfort/ boredom 2. Not knowing exactly what it is you want to say yet 3. Failure

If you can push through the squirminess and clock the hours at the computer like you’re doing brain cardio, puking out whatever it is you MIGHT want to say in a fixed period of time, you’ll be OK. Because once you get ANYTHING on the page, you’ll be able to return to it later and make it better. If you leave and you have nothing, you’re not being very nice to your present OR future self.

The good news is that, even if you’re judging yourself while you barf out that crappy rough draft, what you write is usually not as bad as you think it is! Just make sure you sit on it for a little bit of time before returning to it and editing the shit out of it. It’s always easier to shape something from something than to make something from nothing. So try as hard as you can to blurt something out, even for 10 minutes, and know that once you’re done, the hardest part is behind you.

Writer’s block isn’t magically ordained, or sent down as a decree from God or whatever. It’s not external—you’re the only one doing the blocking! So please try to be gentle to yourself. Being hard on yourself is the #1 cause of misery and wasted time and keeping yourself back. I’ve never heard of anybody who’s bullied themselves into being more prolific or successful.

Give yourself the gift of letting yourself put something down that isn’t perfect. You will return to it later and make it wonderful.

Vanessa Davis

The hardest thing for me has always been the beginning of a project—just getting started.

I went to painting school, and I learned all about how to stretch canvases in all of the olden-times ways, with hand-made stretchers and millions of layers of rabbit glue and sanding (so much sanding). All of this fussy craftsmanship shit. I’d think about painting, but the idea that everything had to be perfect and gorgeous and “right” had been drilled into my brain, and I wouldn’t even be able to start. Any ideas I’d have would immediately be second-guessed (by me) and would evaporate.

After college I decided to make comics, but at first I didn’t really know “how” to make comics. I’d never thought of myself as writer—I didn’t know how to structure a story. I didn’t know how to plan out my pages. I didn’t know how to draw my characters.

I thought back to a painting teacher I had when I was 16, who did one tiny painting a day, just as a way to always have something going. Like a diary. When our class visited his studio, he had thousands of paintings on his wall—the last five years of his life displayed all at once. It was so moving, so cool. I decided to do something in my sketchbook every day. I told myself I wouldn’t to show it to anyone. It could be big or small, a cop-out or an ambitious project.

There’s always something that happens in a day, something worth remembering or noticing. Putting those moments together started to form a story, without my even trying to write one. It was reassuring, but also humbling—it meant that I didn’t always have control over everything I made. And you don’t, either. Sometimes what makes something good is something you improvised, or something you weren’t even conscious you were doing, or something you thought was a bad idea. If you go into a project demanding perfection, you’ll never have a chance to be pleasantly surprised by those lucky “accidents.” But if you leave yourself room to figure things out as you go, you’ll not only have an easier time starting a book/poem/article/diary entry/whatever; you might also end up with a better end product.

I did eventually show people my sketchbook, and those sketches became my first graphic novel, Spaniel Rage. Since then, my process has changed—I found that I do like to do some pre-planning now. But when I just don’t know where to start, I stop and look around, and write and draw whatever I see around me, whatever I’m thinking about. It’s my start button. You can find yours, too.

(Also, I have put a waterproof notepad in my shower. All those good ideas you get in the bathroom go right down the drain if you don’t write them down!)

Jenny Zhang

I have been telling stories and making up nonsense words for as long as I can remember. But around the time I started high school, I started to realize that for me, writing wasn’t just a hobby. It was my freaking life. I knew I wanted to write and not just wanted to write but wanted other people to read what I wrote and not just wanted other people to read what I wrote but wanted other people to read what I wrote and like it and not just wanted other people to like my writing but wanted other people to read it and like it and be transformed by it.

Do you see how if you go down that path you will (a) seem full of yourself and (b) scare yourself into doing nothing by placing outrageous expectations on your writing? So let’s you and I take a step back, and try to remember a time when an afternoon of writing was something to look forward to, not something that caused us crippling anxiety and agony. Here are some tips to get you there:

The internet is not your friend. The internet wants you to do excessive online browsing. The internet wants you to scroll through Tumblr until your wrists hurt. The internet wants you to read other people’s writing. The internet wants you to have 30 tabs up at once that you can’t possibly close until you’ve read every single link from the Wikipedia page on zombies. You have to peel yourself away from the internet.

You could do what Miranda July does here, or you could download an app like Freedom or Self-Control, both of which block you from going online for whatever amount of time you specify. I personally prefer Self-Control, because even if you restart your computer, you still can’t get online as long as you are under the time limit you’ve set for yourself. Also, the app allows you a “whitelist”—a small number of websites, pre-ordained by you, that you can still access. I like to keep one tab open for Dictionary.com and one for Poetry.org, so I can look up words and poems as little breaks between writing bouts.

Give yourself small assignments and projects. I’m the first one to resist any kind of writing exercise because I’m all like, I am far too complex to submit to a lowly writing exercise. I will come up with my own inspiration, thank you very much. And then I go online shopping and spend three hours finding 45 items to add to my shopping cart until I have the equivalent of a down payment for a house in the ol’ cart. So, no, I am not too far advanced, and, yes, I do need a kick in the ass sometimes. So kick yourself. Tell yourself that whenever you get a paper receipt from a store, you will, by the end of the day, write a poem on the back of that receipt, or the first few sentences of a short story.

Take an old book that you don’t care about and a black Sharpie and make an erasure poem, which is where you delete entire chunks of text to create a new poem. It’s way more satisfying to do it to an actual, physical book, but if all of your books are precious, you can check out Wave Books’ online portal for creating erasure poems here.

Keep a notebook at your bedside, and every morning write down whatever you remember of your dreams the night before. If you don’t remember your dreams, make them up. Dream up your dreams.

Go to a café and eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. Write down what you hear, then go back over it and scramble it up, take stuff out, add what you want, and turn it into an absurdist play.

If the physical act of typing or using a pen on paper is somehow a block for you, get a recorder and record yourself telling a story. Transcribe it the next day.

Be curious about other people. You know who has a million and one stories to tell? Your parents. Your grandparents. Your weird uncle. Your weird aunt. These are people who have lived through a lot of shit, and what’s more, they know other people who have lived through a lot of shit. Yes, some of the stories are boring, and some are about how cute you were when you peed yourself at the movies, but there are also amazing, incredibly sad, and incredibly hilarious stories to be uncovered. Gabriel García Márquez’s inspiration for One Hundred Years of Solitude was just sitting around his kitchen table listening to the women in his family gossip. He turned that gossip into gold. You can too.

Read, like all the freaking time. I meet young writers all the time who don’t read, and I’m always like, “What are you doing? Stop writing so much! Read more!” Be a better reader before you start worrying about being a good writer. Reading George Saunders in college inspired me to write better short stories; reading Kafka and Babel and Gogol and Kharms inspired me to write with more imagination. Reading Chelsey Minnis in grad school got me writing poetry again. Ariana Reines’s first book, The Cow, encouraged me to keep writing poetry and eventually to emerge from my writing hole with my own book of poems. Read other writers. Develop your tastes as a reader and eventually, just as Ira Glass says in this video, your writing abilities will catch up to your high standards as a reader.

Dreaming counts! We’re all told that we’re supposed to be “productive.” There’s a glut of things to know about, memes to forward, hashtags to create, instagram photos to take, etc., etc., etc. There’s not a lot of time in our lives to dream. But being a writer is saying that you want to see beauty in places that other people often overlook. So give yourself a day or a week off, or even a few months off, to daydream. But don’t let your brain get comfortable. Make it spin. Give it time to gather strength from ideas.

A lot of writers swear by routine, but I swear by chaos. There’s enough fucking routine in my life. Every day I have to brush my teeth. Every day I have to smile at strangers. Every day I have to worry about money. Every day I want something I can’t have. Every day I find some way to go on! I know that writing every day for an hour would help me tremendously with writer’s block, but I also know that I need an element of wildness in my writing. I need to know that writing is something I do because it sets me free. It makes me feel golden with confidence. It gives me the gift of gab. I feel like a god. I feel like an entertainer. So write when you damn well please.

No one is going to die if you don’t write. The world will find a way to go on. But you might find your soul shrinking the longer you go without writing. The thing about writer’s block is that sometimes it’s real, and sometimes it’s just your brain taunting you: What if you’re not a good writer? What if once you put the words down on the page, it becomes evident that they are not so brilliant after all? And then there’s the fear that if you do write the most perfect story or poem in the whole world, will that mean you won’t ever have another good idea? What if you run out of ideas? Well, then you…

GO OUT AND LIVE YOUR LIFE, BECAUSE AS LONG AS YOU DO THAT YOU WILL NEVER RUN OUT THINGS TO SAY. The best way to avoid living your life, as a writer, is to spend your time worrying about writer’s block. So, live your life for a while. Your talent and your instincts as a storyteller won’t die, I promise. And then when you’re ready, hole the eff up, and write, write, write.

Etgar Keret

“Writer’s block” is a term invented by very spoiled and whiny writers to refer to periods in which they do not feel inspired. The assumption hidden behind this term is that creativity is an everlasting, full-powered fountain, so that if at any given moment we wish to write but nothing exceptional comes out at the other end of our keyboard or pen, there must be some malfunction obstructing the natural cycle of everlasting creativity.

I’d like to offer an alternative perspective. Creativity, very much like love, is a gift. And you don’t get to get gifts all the time. If you go on a date and you don’t like the guy or girl you are meeting, you are not experiencing “lover’s block”—you simply don’t love at that moment, and if you’re patient enough you’ll experience love in the future (probably in the place and the time you’d least expect it). If you don’t write well, keep writing bad stuff (don’t worry, bad writing is completely ecological—it doesn’t damage the ozone layer or give you cancer). If it gets too frustrating, stop doing it—move on to badminton, collect airplane models, or do all those other things that people who don’t write do. But mostly, wait patiently. (Patiently as opposed to impatiently, or angrily, or bitterly—because those kinds of waiting don’t breed future good writing. Patience does.)

Writing isn’t a habit. It’s a unique form of expression. And nobody owes you that special experience on a daily or a weekly basis. But if you make an effort, when it’s gone, to keep living your life and experiencing new things, it will eventually return. And when it does, enjoy it as much as you can, before it goes away again.

Ayelet Waldman

I had writer’s block today. Here’s what it looked like:

I woke up late and sluggish, a result of having spent last night watching a six-episode marathon of Say Yes to the Dress. Too logy to work, I lingered over my oatmeal and tea, reading the New York Times on my phone despite the fact that the actual paper paper was lying on the kitchen table, next to the sugar bowl. Convinced that I would never be able to focus on work without a dose of endorphins, I headed to the gym. An hour later, I was far too physically exhausted to even contemplate opening my computer, let alone work. Ever the taskmaster, I forced myself to it—and spent an hour pinning wool blankets and linen throw pillows to my Pinterest wall.

Then I was hungry. So I ate lunch. Afterwards, I considered what a challenge it is to concentrate on a full stomach, but I forced myself back to the computer. Isn’t it remarkable how an hour of web surfing passes in the blink of an eye? Before I knew it, it was time to pick up the kids.

Another day lost to the torment of writer’s block. Right?

No. Wrong. There is no such thing as writer’s block. There is only procrastination, and laziness. Had I just turned on Freedom and sat the hell down, I could have written at least 1,000 words today. They may not have been good words. In fact, they probably would have sucked. But that’s not the point. The point is not to produce lyrical perfection—that’s what rewriting is for. The point is to sit your ass in your chair and write, even if all you write is a paragraph about what a lazy cretin you are.

Writer’s block is a myth. Get to work.