#//ignore me i'm just cleaning my drafts out <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[thegnomelord]

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 3

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

Warnings: Violence mentioned and referenced, not written. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Ransom was not having a good day. Truth be told, he hadn't had a good day since Steve punched his stomach over a week ago. The writer's block had hit harder than usual. Many applicants for the Assistant position were garbage, completely upsetting his idea that you just needed to google the right answers.

He was starting to realize that Fatso, as he had taken to calling her in his head, was able to help him through his writing blocks because she had the context of the other questions, some rough draft information, and she'd include ways to use her research into the story. Maybe he just needed to actually hire someone from the "competent" file and try from there?

Problem was, time was an issue. His writer's block had kicked in hard and his publisher was getting more impatient about updates. He spent so much time just staring at his computer.

He was startled out of his contemplation by a phone call. If it was his publisher he'd just ignore it but the Caller ID showed "Steve Rogers".

Ransom answered, "Rogers! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where the hell are you Drysdale?" Steve was quiet growling into the phone. Indicating he was around others.

"What do you mean?"

"The damned Stark party? Raising funds for Rhodes's campaign?!" Ransom could swear he heard Steve's teeth grinding. "You're supposed to be here chatting with Mrs. Devereaux. Buttering her up to at least not donate to Wilford?!"

"Shit," Ransom jumped up and ran towards his closet. "Tell her I'll be there in 20 minutes. If she needs an excuse, I was writing up a storm. I'll make it up to her by naming a character after her or something."

"Just. Get. Here." Steve hung up.

Yeah, Ransom was not having a good day.

Your life was returning to some sense of normalcy. The crutches were a pain but, thankfully, you didn't have a lot of places to go. You wanted to get back to working as quickly as you could, if only to feel like you were actually earning some of the money you'd been given.

But you'd kept your promise to be safe, and allow yourself to heal. You did your best to keep within the movement restrictions you were given. Part of you was still waiting for that hospital bill. Yes, Curtis, Dr. Beck, even Jake and Jefferson all said it was taken care of but part of you still waited for that dreaded notice of nonpayment.

Thankfully the cybercafe wasn't too far and you were able to convince the J's (as they told you to call them) that it was the perfect distance for your needed exercise and movement and you'd sit at the cafe long enough to rest for the return trip. You were happy to get back to tutoring the girls in the afternoons. Your mornings were spent applying for other jobs.

One morning your applications were interrupted by Jake.

"Hey, Y/N, this is Hal," Jake gestured to the handsome, shirt-haired man, wearing a too small shirt, next to him. "He's here to work with you towards getting his GED.”

"Oh, yes," you perk up. "Curtis mentioned another possible student." You reach out your hand and Hal, grinning even wider, shakes it.

"It's mighty kind of you to agree to this," he began. "I've been meaning to fill in that gap on my resume for some time.”

"Well I'm happy to help you with that. Please, have a seat so we can get started?”

Hal pulls out the nearest chair and turns it so that he sits on it backwards, his muscly arms resting on the back of the chair.

"So, is this a time that works for you," you ask. "I've got a pretty open schedule so your time preferences are get priority.”

"Well," he hesitates, "my schedule is pretty all-over-the-place. Is there any chance we could take it a week at a time?”

"Sure," you affirm. "As long as you give me notice so I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”

"Yes, ma'am," Hal nods. "I'm not in the habit of leaving pretty girls wanting." He gives a wink but you drop your eyes and sigh.

"Hal," you scold. "I'm going to guess you're the type to hit on anything that breathes?”

Clearly taken aback by your tone Hal straightens in his seat. "No," he denies. "Maybe. I swear I was just trying to compliment you.”

You pause your comeback and take a deep breath instead. "I suppose there is a difference," you concede. “Just please be careful with both of those around me. I am not a "pretty girl" and I do not appreciate being addressed as such.”

Hal's eyebrows furrow in confusion so you continue, "let's just keep the compliments related to our work? Please? I'd always prefer being smart or nice to being pretty." You give him a small smile and he visibly relaxes.

"Sure thing, Teach," he says. "So, where should we start?”

Curtis was cleaning up the interrogation room after Barnes and Fowler's latest “message” to Rumlow’s crew. They had already taken the body to drop it off on Rumlow's front door, Curtis would make sure all evidence was removed from the room. It was ugly work but maybe, just maybe, Rumlow would stop trying to push his drugs and thugs in their territory.

He was finishing up when he got a text from Jefferson saying Hal’s first session went well. He normally doesn't need these kinds of updates from the legitimate side of things but he found himself rather invested in your progress. You were unusual. A puzzle he wanted to figure out.

Or so he kept telling himself to explain why he was thinking about you so much. You’d shown yourself to be sweet and patient with others but he remembers the fire with which you spoke to him. He almost felt like a moth drawn to your light but he had to keep himself in check. For now it was enough to know you were doing well and helping his family.

At least until he got the follow up text from Jefferson saying, “Ran is looking for Teach. Ok to share info?”

Curtis felt his jaw tighten. The pompous ass had fired someone for taking a bullet. He didn't want him anywhere near you. He was sure you wouldn't want to see Ransom, either. Jake had told him you'd blocked your former boss’s number and his emails would go straight to spam. He texted back a simple “no.” Let the asshole suffer.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[ohimsummer]

this has been in the drafts since January, also it’s a scrap!! so there’s no real ending (spoiler alert he lost), sowwy babe <3

content: eren x armin's gf, teasing, mean! reader, suggestive, explicit language, not proofread

Eren Yeager considered himself a lot of things, but a bitch was not one of them.

He was notorious amongst his group of friends for accepting any dare, challenge, or bet thrown at him. Even if it was something foolish, all it took was a little prodding at his ego to have him up and running to do whatever it was they'd suggested. Eren thought it made him look cool. You thought it made him look stupid and easier to exploit.

Eren glances at you, more specifically at your boobs in his face which are almost keeling out of your tank top. "So you want me to do...what, exactly?"

You release a dramatic sigh and sit yourself on the arm of the couch, pajama shorts riding up the crease of your thighs and leaving even less to Eren's imagination. "It's a bet, dummy. Go a week without touching me since you like to put your hands on me so much. Think you can handle that?”

He downs the last remnants of water from the bottle in his hand before crinkling the plastic against his leg. "Yeah. But why would I wanna do some shit like that? Give you even more reason to act a fucking ass?"

You grasp at your chest in feigned shock and dismay. "Oh, well, excuse me, then! Big, bad Yeager-boy turning down a challenge? Fine, be that way."

Despite turning in preparation to leave, your feet don't make it to the floor before there’s a strong hold around your waist; Eren holds you in place and then pulls you closer to him, basically onto his lap. "Ah, ah. I didn't say I wouldn't do it, dumbass. What's in it for me if I win?"

You pretend to think up a prize for him, pursing your lips and tapping your cheek. "If you win, I'll do anything you want for a whooole week." A smile spreads across your face as his eyebrows perk up in intrigue. "But if I win, you have to do whatever I say, for a whole week. How's that sound?"

Eren had to admit, you at his beck and call for a week was an enticing offer. Though, at the same time, it gave you a week to be more annoying than usual. But, it would only be for a few days...and after he won he could spend the best week of his life breaking that shit attitude of yours apart and maybe make you behave more often.

"Okay, then.", Eren agrees. You give him a wicked smile and giggle, then begin to explain the rules to him more clearly: no touching you in any sexual way, not to tease nor to taunt, and you make sure to eliminate any specific touches he could try and play off as innocent. Eren decides not to set many rules for you. He liked the challenge, plus, when he won, he intended on making you pay for anything you did for the next 7 days.

The challenge started the very next morning. Eren spent the night wondering how he'd approach it; maybe he'd just avoid you altogether, or try and ignore you and just hope you’d get bored from his lack of reactions. He, unfortunately, wouldn't have any such luck.

"Hey, Eren!"

Eren recognizes your voice behind him as he's walking to his car to head to his apartment. He turns, and his eyes almost pop clean from his head. Thoughts are fighting to be at the forefront of his mind, a prominent one being 'How the fuck is she allowed to wear that on campus?'. There's no time to question it, your voice cuts through his jumbled mind as you ask him for a favor.

"Could you drop me off at the library, 'Ren?", you bat those pretty eyelashes and tilt your head. "I'm supposed to be meeting 'Minnie there but my car's in the shop. Pretty please?"

He agrees. And the week only gets worse from there.

If Eren thought you were insufferable before, it increased tenfold the day this bet started. The car ride on Monday had to be one of the worst experiences of his life. It was bad enough that majority of your skin was revealed, but watching the sweat glisten on your exposed chest, tits pushed up and straining against your top, jostling with every bump in the road that he tried desperately to avoid, made the whole thing that much more unbearable. 

The days following weren’t that much better. Eren realizes how much you’d been holding back when you’d teased him before. Sure you’d lean forward a little and wiggle your ass when you knew he was watching, but now? On your hands and knees in a skirt right in front of him with only the thin fabric of your frilled panties to hide yourself from him? Taking a shower when you knew he was coming over just to let him catch glimpses of your gleaming skin. The worst offense, in Eren’s opinion, was when you “accidentally” text him a photo of your bare pussy, quickly followed by “oops, meant that for ‘minnie so don’t look :(”.  He doesn’t respond, but the read receipt indicating that Eren did indeed see it has you giggling to Armin that night about how fun it was to make his friend’s life even more of a living hell. You don’t know that your high jinks have Eren fucking his fist every night until he can’t even cum anymore, but you like to believe that you have that effect on him anyway.

In spite of your unbearable antics, Eren prides himself on lasting until the final day without touching you. He’s irked at your lack of panic that you’re about to lose, but decides that you’re just putting up a front to make him suspicious. 

[thehistoriangirl]

HIII i love your works soooo much i literally cry when you update anything *violent sobs* you dropped this my queen 👑 also i don't mean to pressurize or anything, but is the work "If You Hadn't Left (Me)" on AO3 still continuing? if not no pressure! as always, take care of yourself and your health lots of love mwah

aANON IM SO SORRY

I had been in a writing slump—and plotting my original novel didn't help—, but I'm going to start college soon :3 so ofc I'm starting to write for Viktor again!!!

Here's a sneak peek at a scene for chapter 2 👀

Viktor's eyes swept over your designs. All swifts lines and clean sketches you've surely done a million times.

He couldn't help but remember how you had drawn him before, after carefully examining the features of his face with attentive eyes and feather-like touches.

His sigh echoed in the quiet lab, and he felt your gaze over his shoulder, waiting.

"I don't like it," he said, recoiling inside himself after hearing his whine. But it was true; this wasn't your style. You loved sinous curves and flowery details, soft edges that would end in intricate carvings like vines ensnared in an old tower.

Rather, the building was like a rounded obelisk, with sharp walls and a rounded roof that would merge well with the rooftops of the boulevards' buildings. A gigantic tower that was meant to be awed and feared.

"It doesn't surprise me that you never won any ingenieering competition," you huffed, your petty tone trying to conceal the hurt of his words. "Your machines may be good, but they're ugly. You clearly have no taste."

Viktor chuckled, humorless. "I must dissagree, Miss." He could do 'cute-looking' machines. Usually made to decorate your shelves, but he wasn't going to say that. "I dated you, after all."

He didn't register the words until they had come out his mouth, the damage undone and his professional reputation on the floor.

Your eyes were wide open, clutching the papers against your chest as if scandalized.

"You're insufferable," you mumbled, taking your sketch from his desk and dashing toward Jayce's empty desk, where you would finish the necessary blueprints copies for Jayce and the Council without daring to look at Viktor's direction.

"Isn't it a little bit early to already get out of work?" Viktor mused, looking at you putting your things inside a bag. Past lunchtime, but with the sun still shining and the streets still lively with children and students chatting all over the Academy's courtyard.

"I'm working full time. Just not here," you answered dryly, already heading toward the door.

"Why?" He couldn't help but question. It was because of what he had said, of course. How could he let his tongue run so carelessly in an art he had masterfully controlled before?

"I don't have my drafting table here," you said, eyes connecting with his just for a second. "And I forgot my portfolio with my scale rulers and other stuff. I will bring them tomorrow."

He nodded, ignoring the way his heart made a somersault. You'll return here tomorrow—because of course you would, this was your job.

"Good evening then," he said, turning back to his stool, back hunched as he continued to scribble his equations away.

Viktor just heard the click of the door closing behind your back, and then you were all gone.

[undercoverpan]

College of Pandora blurb

Spider wakes up strapped to a table. The restraints are carefully tightened so they don't pinch his skin. He's clothed in a blue paper draft, though he felt the cold metal of the table on his clothed skin. The room is cold, the walls are a steril white. He's surrounded by surgical tools, each cleaned immaculately.

“Spider, you realise you can sit up, right? Like, you're not actually tied down, right?” Asked a girl. And that's girl, not woman. She, like most of the human population, seemed small to him, maybe 5’8 at most. She had curly hair that was tied back, brown skin, freckles. She was…a strange sight to behold.

“You're always so dramatic during checkups.” She remarks casually, jotting down something in a messy scrawl across paper. “Am i supposed to like being poked and prodded at?” He asks, yanking his hands free from the restraints. Truly, he found all their tests invasive. He found the clothes they made him wear restrictive, he found himself wriggling away every time he felt the cold rubber of their gloves on his body. 

“No, but if you really hated it, you'd stay still so I could do finish my work faster.” She hums in response, sighing as she peeled her hands free from the gloves. “I can't stay still, your hands feel like ice cubes on my body during all this.” He says in defence, hopping off of the table as he idly mumbled about his clothes in Na'vi. “I can't help having cold hands, Spider. I'm in a lab that's air conditioned 24/7.”

He rolls his eyes. “I'm locked up in a school that's the same temperature, but I'm still warm.”

She takes a passing glance at his chest before snorting and looking away. “Yeah, real warm without any kind of clothes.” She says, though it doesn't seem like the white lab coat and the layer of fabric beneath it were doing her any favours. “You're wearing like 3 layers and you're still colder than me.” The remark leaves him with a slight smirk. 

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “The labs have to be colder. It's for the sake of the samples.” She sighs, pulling her coat higher on her shoulders. “Now if you're done whining, you can leave me to look over the results.” Miranda hunches over scattered papers, intent on ignoring the boy crossing his arms at her. “I'm not leaving.” He says, purely to just annoy her. 

“Then at least be quiet.” 

“Make me.”

“I'm not gonna indulge you. Either get out or stay and be quiet.”

At that, she hears a crash behind her, like the sound of metal surgical tools clattering against the floor. She sighs once again, but refrains from turning around. She said she wouldn’t indulge him and she won't. This is a song and dance they've done before, with him getting under her skin and her retorting snidely. 

Not even as more metal clatters against the floor and hits the wall next to her. No, she keeps on doing…science things.

His footsteps thumbing against the cold floor is the only warning she gets before he leans over her, resting a hand on the table. She tenses as the skin of his torso pressed to the back of her head. “What are you doing, anyways?” He asks idly, glancing over the papers. “Looking over your check up results.” Came her answer, along with “get off, you're heavy.”

Spider answers by resting his head on top of hers, adjusting his hands so he could comfortably lay his weight on top of her. 

“I've had more check ups here than I have in my entire life.” Spider said, bored. “That says more about your caretakers than it does me.” Was Miranda's idle remark. At that, Spider furrowed his brows. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“They…should've documented you more. I mean, look at all these fractures and cracks. Your bones look like they were glued together.” 

“So I get hurt. I live on Pandora, dumbass, everyone gets hurt. You have no right to talk about who took care of me.” He hissed. Miranda sighs. As annoying as he was, she didn't want to press too much on his sore subjects, like the fact that he had no proper family. “Alright, everyone who lives on Pandora gets hurt.” Was her mitigating reply.

“What's so interesting about me besides my broken bones?” He asked after a beat of silence. She found that ‘Spider’ and ‘quiet’ didn't belong in the same sentence after weeks of knowing him. Always screaming and cursing at humans, trying to get into fights or one of his many escape attempts. You'd think they were holding him prisoner or something, honestly!

“Your bones are a bit denser than they should be. You're quite tall for your age, but i think that's because the gravity isn't as strong here as it is on earth, so…you weren't being squished down as much. Your muscles match what you said about hunting and all that, but they seem firmer than what a human's should be.”

She pats his bicep as if to prove a point; and he swats at her hand. She, in turn, swats back at him. They resemble 2 cats batting at each other with their paws, furious little pap pap paps coming from them as they hit each other like the mature 16 year olds they are.

“Miranda, you done with the check–?” Said a voice as a man came in, stopping the teens dead in their tracks. She paused for one, two, three moments before shoving Spider off, adjusting her coat. “Yes, they're right here.” Miranda answered smoothly, gathering the papers together and holding them out to him. He takes them from her hands and casts them an odd look.

“What are you doing?”

“That's none of your business. Now go and log these with the other results, and we'll compare them later. I need to get back to work.”

Her reply is quick and efficient, like the presence of the other scientist alone annoys her. 

Miranda is strange. If he tried this with any of the other lab coats, he'd be sent to a cell before he could blink. Her leniency might be because of how close they are in age, but the patience she has with their fellow students differs. With him, it feels like patience flows smoothly, whereas with others it feels forced. 

And maybe that's because he himself is strange. He finds himself pulling his punches with her more than the other humans. Oh, he'll beat an RDA guard to the ground in a heartbeat, and he's not afraid to stomp on a students’ foot when they talk crap about Na'vi because they don't fit their narrow minded world views. But Miranda gets a few lighthearted swats for saying his tweng looked like swiss cheese. 

They are gentle with each other, in a sense. Whether or not this is a good thing remains to be seen.

_________

Little blurb of Miranda and Spider interacting. I do have a few more tidbits that I wrote for this au and my recom! Tommy au that I'll post but they're short n sweet.

Mira isn't evil just slightly unhinged btw I promise

[alinaastarkov]

NEW YEARS CLEAN-UP 🎊

rules: unburden yourself from the abandoned WIPS collecting dust in your folder and share 5 gifs, then tag five people. tagged by: @gwenpendragns tagging: @laylakeating @ughmerlin @usershelby @azoraahai @yenvengerberg (totally ignore me if you've already done this 🩷)

ok so to be honest i usually delete the entire set the minute i decide to abandon something so this was quite hard 😭 therefore i may be slightly cheating by including stuff from 2022 but let's agree to ignore that anyway 😁

rhaenyra + thee book quote

started making this while hotd s1 was airing and just... never finished it rip </3 none of the other gifs came together and i then got swamped with uni work so i might continue it still, even tho the colouring definitely needs fixing lol

sab + chess pieces

another one i made while the show was airing and uni got in the way, plus the cancellation made me doubt if i should continue. also another one i would completely change if i decided to continue lol this layout was not doing it for me and i would like to do something more interesting with the text for sure

amita suman as nymeria sand

another one for my sab actors as asoiaf characters that i started AGES AGO and never finished whoops! i did stop and plan to use s2 footage for this set and then forgot (i'm sensing a pattern here)

lumax + out of the woods

this has been in my drafts for way longer than i care to admit. overall realised i hated the colouring, hated the text, even hated the footage i was working with so... who knows if i will continue this ever but i think this made me realise giffing stranger things might not be for me 😅

becoming elizabeth + the 1

save me period drama cancelled after one season... save me... 🥲 fr tho started this, hated the colour i chose, then i hated the text, then none of the colouring would match between gifs... story of my life it seems. i would like to continue this because i love them but... we'll see :/

[firecooking]

Here me out, in the tugs fandom there are 3 depictions of captain zero

1. Shitty mustache ( looks like it's pencil drawn)

2. Mustache that curls into a zero ( it curling to represent how he's the antagonist and also it resembles a 0 )

3. No mustache ( because he's either terrible at facial hair or artist just didn't draw him with one)

In your au is there an inside joke that zero can't grow proper facial hair?

I have been a conosuier of human Captain Zero's for years, and that theory does hold water!

I think the only Zero I can think of until a few that cropped up around this year with a beard that was drawn more than once is Dan-the-countdowner's over on deviant art. God speed Dan you where like the only guy drawing human Captains for years.

Also, your asks are always on deck in my ask box when I have a few minutes of free time, please don't think I'm ignoring them, sometimes it takes me a while to formulate my answers. Also I don't often do drawing requests, but I make an exception for my TUGS au's!

Anyways, on to my au! There will be a detailed explanation under the read more but tldr:

When Zero was a younger man he always kept himself clean shaven, after his time in he army he attempts to grow a mustache, which was universally hated and every one regarded as a bad move. Post War 1918-pre Zip 1920 is lovingly known as the rat years in the photo albums that reside around Zero Marine Bigg City.

Before the Great War Captain Zero clean shaved every morning, brushed out, cared for, and styled his hair, and generally looked put together and intentional despite living with rather wild, wavy, longer hair. I picture him around a 2b/2c if he makes an attempt to care for it but when he's not doing anything particular its just a frizzy/fluffy 2a, he has pretty fine hair so it's never consistent unless Zero makes the effort. His hair keeping short also makes it less wavy than it might be if he let it grow out.

He'll never admit it but he never really liked looking anyone in the eyes as a young man, and he still doesn't like it. His long bangs covering his face made him feel more calm and helped hide the fact he was avoiding eye contact.

When he signed up for the draft, Star had made a few passing comments about his hair, but Zero never thought anything of it. He's always remembered Star had had longer hair, and the Army wasn't that different to the navy, right?

After he was drafted and was in training, one of the first things that happened was his hair was trimmed back to fit in his helmet better and his daily grooming routine was reprimanded as a waste of time for a medic. He was told to change it or lives would be lost. So change it he did. This change consisted of not doing his hair routine save for 'basic maintenance' [ie, none] as needed, and only shaving one or twice a week, his facial hair never did grow very fast and was rather sparse anyways.

When he got back from the war, he vowed to grow his hair back out, but he was a different man returning home.

With his new found free time in the mornings meant he could always find time for tea and some breakfast. Making for a slightly less 'tired bitch of a captain' according to his three tugboats [data gathered from eaves dropping on their nightly poker games]. With his shaving routine fully altered and him no longer being picky about being clean shaven, he decided to try out facial hair, his father always maintained a beard, so why couldn't he? Genetics were on his side! He often forgets he's adopted.

It never did grow in fast, or very full. Even with Zorran's best efforts to help, Zero never really had more than a slightly bushy mess. And his hair never really got back to it's same length/health after the war, he always blamed it on the fact it was cut back, and not the fact he was a depressed mess after Europe who had stopped grooming almost entirely for years.

When Zip was due to be christened, Zero finally went down to a barbers shop to get himself cleaned up for the photographs at the urging of his tugboats and mother.

The barber took one look at him and told him the mustache needed to go and that his hair was initially damaged from lack of care during the war and then exacerbated by lack of care after. Zero on a whim let the man do what he felt was right, it was a new decade after all.

Zero's up cut was initially very low maintenance for him and he quite preferred it that way. Zero didn't keep up steam with his hair care the same way he did before the war, but he could manage to brush it in the morning to keep it from getting as bad as it had been.

Once Zasha comes into his life and he realized she has much curlier hair than he ever did [a mix of 3 b/c], he starts to pick hair maintenance back up as he learns how to take care of her hair. He's gotta be a role model and a good father after all. He still never gets back to how he was before the war, but at least his hair is healthy instead of oily, frizzy, and out of place.

More importantly he's taking regular showers and grooming again. His tugs count both of those things as a win.

He never figures out why he was less particular about the way he looks after the war. He was living a life of crime before the war. In the army he never injured a soul or took a life, unlike his days collecting debts as an 'accountant.'

He doesn't see how the war to end all wars could have changed him.

[elizabethplaid]

early morning notes - nov 4, 2024

Both phone-friend and streamer-friend were busy this weekend, so I spent my time napping and playing on my phone. (And taking photos of Wampus, which have been popular.) I sent them both well-wishes, but I didn't want to bother them. Both needed the break from their daily routines. Also, I was the one to suggest canceling this week's call, out of respect.

Thursday (Halloween, Oct 31st) was my dental appointment and some shopping, which left me very fatigued, both physically and mentally. Friday through now, my sense of touch has been hyper-aroused, but it's less scary than what happened at the end of August. (At least I didn't break my chakra, like I feared last time.)

I "took matters into my own hands" on Friday, but the sensations have persisted. I've been hesitant to say anything, as there's really nothing to be done. It's fun to whine when it's amusing, but it feels embarrassing and frustrating this time. I'm tired; I want to sleep; I don't want to be aroused. I'm too tired to do anything about it.

Sunday (Nov 3) was Friends-giving with Neighbors-S+J. I didn't go, because I'm so wonked, but dad brought home dessert. I was an impulsive fool and ate it right away, though it was close to midnight. I was most of the way through the cheesecake when I realized it'd been on the counter for a few hours. Ah, that pesky food safety. I stopped eating it and threw the rest away. (Cookies and chocolate pieces were saved and set in the fridge, as those are usually more stable.)

My impulsiveness also kept me from making a "proper" meal for myself. In the morning, I'll have something with more food groups, but emotions are clinging to that cheesecake and not sitting well with me. (Not nauseated, just some regret mixed with other weird things.) I'm near the end of my cycle, so that's my excuse for my current condition, at least partly.

I've taken my meds this morning, though I think I was late to take them yesterday (closer to noon). I was going to finish tasks for a game-event on my phone, but fatigue has eroded away my interest. There are some echoes of a dream that are lingering (kissing a hand, fairy bread), along with reading the symbolism from another recent dream, bothering my thoughts. Again, fatigue makes me want to ignore them.

I'm trying to search my memories for answers to my current situation. I've talked about this with my counselor and phone-friend. I've developed strategies before. I just can't think right now. It wasn't actions; it was attitudes, how to regard things and not get discouraged.

She also asked how I felt about the portraits from that dream, the one that's still bugging me. The symbolism site I read said it was "how you want to be seen by others", and that's true, but the details about the artist made it weird. I noted contrasts with other dreams of similar themes. Need to write down those imagery-symbols, so I can report back later.

The part about grout in dentures paralleled my dental cleaning, as well. It bothers me that it was a prediction, in a sense. The only other predictive dream I've had was related to my assault. And that anniversary is later this month, so I'm trying to keep my brain from revisiting those unhappy places.

There were also some story scenarios I envisioned as I went through that endorphin crash. I wrote about it but saved it as a draft, as it felt too painful to let anyone else see. I just had counseling the day before dental, so it's another week+ before we talk again. If I'm not feeling better by Tuesday, I'll ask for an earlier appointment.

I know there are bad feelings bubbling closer to the surface right now. They're buried under a layer of numbness, at the moment, which is also preventing me from thinking much. I appreciate how my brain is unconsciously/subconsciously? protecting me.

Still working through how much I allow myself to lean on others. This pain isn't new; there's nothing to be done by either me or them. So why bother sharing it? Maybe I'm using that as a cover-up for shame, too. Vulnerability is embarrassing, after all. Guess the mental health stuff is pretty heavy if I'm wrestling with philosophical stuff about deserving to be cared for. But it's also not easy to undo a lifetime of bad lessons, so I must be patient and kind with myself. I think I'll take a nap.

[oleander-nin]

OLLIEEE I'm saying hi because you're still fresh on my mind from the other day (and I'm bored) Also I don't think you talk enough and if you're anything like me (you are) then you probably don't talk about stuff unless prompted through ask games because you assume you'll annoy everyone so SURPRISE

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

OLLIE INTERVIEW TIME

(I'm putting questions in orange because it's WAY too uninteresting if it's all blue. And I don't know I just associate you with orange so I'm assigning it to you.)

What's your favourite colour?

Because I don't wanna put stuff in orange if you don't like orange lmao

How much do you research for your stories?

I always get way too caught up researching things to make sure it's accurate, get off track, and then time goes by and I've exhausted myself before starting :(

How much do you outline fics vs how much typically comes as you write it? Does the direction change as you go?

For me, it's the same issue again. I spend way too much time thinking about a proper fleshed out outline before I even BEGIN and then I just. never start

Are there any fics you've started, but ended up scrapping? (And if so will you tell us about them pleeease)

I have. So many wips. Will I finish them? No. Do I at least try? Also no.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

(Also, am I allowed to just ask questions like this in the first place? More? Less? Should I keep them about writing or can I ask about you? Probably should've asked all of this before. Oops)

(You don't have to answer any of these if you don't want! You're totally welcome to delete this ask and I won't be upset /gen. Just want to bring you out of your shell a little if I can. Or at LEAST let you know I'm curious about you. Also I'm having fun with Tumblr formatting if you can't tell, I'm still new to this lol)

- ☄️

Hi Comet(if you're cool with me calling you that)! and wow that call out was on point lmao. I have a hard time justifying talking on here lol.

My favorite color is yellow, but I basically love every color but green. Never green. I'm very happy to know I give off Orange vibes though, it's top three.

Depends! Usually a lot. I am not a fan of inaccuracies, especially when it's something I can fix by just spending a couple hours reading articles and watching videos. I get the exhaustion thing though! My best advice I could give is stick w/ a video to start with, and watch it while you're doing something else. Whether it's cleaning, cooking, having just the audio playing while you drive(do not watch while driving pls), or anything else. It's good to just absorb the information first and getting into the nitty gritty later.

Ooo, okay. so, I basically make a paragraph of what my idea is first and that's my 'outline'. Then, I kinda just go at it. If the direction changes and I gain a better idea as I'm writing, then I go for it! It'll usually be better with the 'on the job' plot anyways, since it's what flowed more naturally. Don't try to force a plot just because it was in your outline.

Current count is ~39 personal wips. I wouldn't say they're scrapped, just put on the backburner until I finally finish the requests and get motivation to finish them. Though I do have scrapped ones for other fandoms, like a whole fic I planned for a vigilante Midoryia(which I just checked, had only written 3 pages for before ignoring it lol). And also technically the first draft of TWOAL.

Of course you're allowed to ask questions! Anyone can honestly ask me anything they want, though I may not answer all or I'll just be vague with it if it's something I'd like to keep more personal. I freaking love questions, whether they're about me, my writing, or just anything in the world. I really appreciate you doing this, I had a ton of fun and it's nice to know y'all'd like to know about me. Thank you so much.

also take the writing 'advice'/tidbits with a grain of salt. I have had a pretty harsh wakeup call on how I write, and I've learned pretty quickly I'm a bit of an outlier with how I go about it. What works for me may not for you and that's okay!

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @winterandwords to uh... talk about a WIP I guess? :D

I'll pass on this tag toooo... @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (as always <3) but I'm not sure who else, so if you feel like talking about a WIP, consider this an open tag.

Oh boy, which to pick. There are currently only 2 projects where the P in WIP actually stands for "progress" (for the others it stands for "procrastination".)

I think I'm gonna pick Till Death. It is the one I am currently obsessed with, and the only one I am writing, not editing.

Here's the blurb:

Finnian is a wandering healer down on his luck. When one of his patients dies, the village turns against him, beating him half to death and leaving him for thirst and scavengers to finish what they started.

Eilis lives deep in the forest, hiding from the world. When she finds him, impaled on a tree and barely alive, she can‘t leave him to his fate, even if it means upending the peaceful life she has built for herself.

As Finnian slowly recovers, days filled with quiet companionship make the prospect of him staying less daunting than either of them had expected. But he carries too many scars, and Eilis too many secrets, threatening to destroy their fragile relationship as the shadows of the past draw closer. When everything falls apart, will they save each other, or will the price be too high?

You see, in April I finished the last chapter of all my ongoing stories, which left me in a very weird mood. For 1,5 years I always had something to work on, and suddenly, there was nothing started. Sure, I had a few outlines, but nothing really called to me, with the added problem that for those, I have to figure out bullshit like politics. I needed something new. New chars I didn't know yet, a fresh story - and 🌟violence🌟 :)

I've been talking about wanting more gore with happy end, but sadly, existing OCs are so fragile, I can't even break all their bones without them dying 🙄 So it was time to fuck up another healer.

For a few weeks, I threw concepts against a wall like cooked spaghetti, grabbed whatever stuck, and then I just started. It's the first time in a year that I actually write a story without posting as I go. I can leave a little note "this sounds weird, fix later" or remember "shit, I forgot this injury" or change a name halfway in. I know. That's how a draft is supposed to work 😅

I'm at over 60k words, and it's looking good. There's a few 'first times' for me, a lot of things I love and a lot of things I am excited about. I have a rough outline of events still to happen that leaves me enough freedom to go wild. And wild I go; half of the scenes are gratuitous pain and suffering, and there will be more - but it's also a story of love and finding a place to belong. Which brings me to the next point:

I'm tired. Tired of feeling like I don't belong anywhere. Of having no genre and being "just whump" because it fits nowhere else. Of being "not enough whump" while still finding myself on every squick list.

So this one's written for a target audience of some very close friends - a target audience for which I don't have to write CWs at the top of each chapter, a target audience who doesn't grow bored at the first calm moment, a target audience who will call me a bitch while asking for more pain.

I love you, pocket friends 💜

Here's the start of the book (unedited, rip):

Finnian hated dealing with sick people.

Considering the fact that he earned his money with healing, that was rather unfortunate. If he didn’t want to starve to death, he had to grit his teeth and ignore the stench of sweat and blood while taking care of coughs and aches and fever.

Sometimes, he wished he had learned something else after it had become clear that this wasn’t the right profession for him. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, explaining to a grown ass woman that when he had told her to keep the wound clean, that included keeping the bandages away from dirty water. And that yes, it fucking hurt, because now it was infected, and if she didn’t plan on losing a finger or two, she’d better keep her hand dry and clean this time. And that perhaps, just perhaps, that was a bit more important than cleaning the windows.

Unfortunately, he had not learned anything else, so he left the house half an hour later with barely enough coins in his pocket to make up for the supplies he had used. Most roots and herbs he could gather himself, but bandages and tinctures didn’t grow on trees.

[curiosity-killed]

Hi, curiosity-killed.....If you don't mind me asking, what are your top 5 favorite moments from tgcf? Sorry if you've answered this question before....

WE'RE IGNORING THAT THIS IS 2 YR OLD I AM CLEANING OUT DRAFTS

oooh at last my folder of tgcf screenshots comes in handy >:D (...jk that folder is horrifying and I can’t find anything in it)

MEGA SPOILERS BELOW

also sorry this very rapidly gets unhinged bc i'm speed finishing this 2 years after i started it

1. Lang Qianqiu’s “I’ll never be like you” in Book 1

I mean first of all, I am so weak for Xie Lian being a badass and what compares to “Fight me and you will die for sure”?

But mostly I love this whole arc a lot and particularly the confrontation on the road. There’s something about the ahh almost generational parallels of Jun Wu -> Xie Lian -> Lang Qianqiu that just gets me. In another world, you could almost make them into a little heavenly dynasty of tragedy and corruption — and I think this moment crucially incapsulates why that doesn’t happen and how wrong Jun Wu is about Xie Lian.

Because Xie Lian’s cover-up feels and looks like exactly the kind of corruption and cruelty that Jun Wu wants from him. Sure Xie Lian didn’t go through with destroying Yong’an the first time around but look at this: isn’t this just proof that he can still be Jun Wu’s successor? Isn’t this proof that Jun Wu knows him better than anyone else? 

and then the more we actually learn about it, the more we realize how much XL was trying to avoid exactly that happening. And the confrontation on the road, Lang Qianqiu swearing he will never become like XL—and XL laughing, saying 'good' hnnnn brain go brr

2. Xie Lian’s “Then the heavens are wrong.” in Book 2

litcherally the reason i fell in love with him! my good good boy, my baby boy who's going to fall so! so!!! hard off that pedestal! yeah!!

3. Guoshi explaining Hua Cheng’s past in Mt. Tong’lu in Book 5

I just! a) am a sucker for Hua Cheng and b) love the way this backstory explains and directly contradicts Hua Cheng's self-view, own version of the story, etc. There's so much meaty goodness in HC's character and I love the way this backstory tells so much about him in sort of horrifying ways

4.  Hua Cheng after the final fight with Jun Wu in Book 5

i know ppl are like omg why did hc play xl like that SUCH a drama queen but TBH i think he was pretty much 100% prepared to go! he accomplished his desire of serving and protecting xl! he did the thing! and i love the sense that he really thought he was gone at this point and that xl begging him to stay is what gave him the new purpose to come back despite that being a bonkers wild impossibility

5. chap...ter....190 in Book 4

yeah. i mean. *gestures to me and also all my tgcf art and fic*. yeah.

[decadentrot]

OH HELLO IM BACK （＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ

uuugh sorry for 3 month hiatus lmao (enjoy this lil drawing i made :D)

Ok RL update time: was busy with figuring out my finaid situation for college, then getting scammed by a dude and having to create a whole new bank account :( which ultimately just sucked the money from my wallet the motivation to draw out of me and then when i was pulling myself together, i was suddenly busy celebrating my friends being back home from their college (wooo!) and then my roommates and i were apartment hunting for college. We managed to find a decently cheap apartment (well as cheap as it can be for a city on the outskirts of LA lmao) and we finally got approved and accepted and signed the lease! Most of my college stuff is getting figured out and ive been getting more motivated to art and now i luckily have more free time on my hands too!

Ive been having more personal time now, so hopefully i can draw more fandom fanart (lately ive mostly been doing OC stuff but honestly idk if i want to include my OCs here or just keep it fandom only) I do have some bad news, my Summertime Comic will continue to be put on hiatus just cause i need to do more research :') Looking over my outline, i was very ambitious with the story and topics i wanted to juggle. I do want to make it relatively accurate well as accurate as it can be for a made up town inspired by 1970s Germany can be So i dont want to continue the story right now with my half assed research and possibly offend/possibly hurt anyone with my ignorance on these sensitive/political topics and worldbuilding. That being said, I understand hiatuses kinda suck so i might just create an alternate ending that strays away from these deeper topics and try to keep the plot strictly "Forger family reconciliation" just for the sake of having closure to the story, and then when i have more time to do ample research, I'll draw out the "true ending" of what i wanted to happen. Or I might even just take parts and pieces of the original plot and simplify it to make it more easy for me to draw and so it'll have the remnants of my OG vision of the story. I'm still undecided but i really really do like the story and i dont want to entirely abandon it :)

I think mentioned it in my last comic post that i already had the draft done of the next part and that is true, so now that i have more time ill clean up the linework on that part and post it at some point (hopefully by this month) ((let me give you a lil sneak peak. also ik it looks angsty but i swear its a sweet wholesome part with family feels <3))

Anyways TDLR: im back and i got most of my rl stuff figured out and i want to use the rest of my summer break to draw fun comfort fanart things that ik i wont have as much time for when i attend college. So yea get ready for an influx of fandom brainrot ผ(•̀_•́ผ) Hope yall enjoy the art and have a wonderful rest of the day and remember to stay hydrated in these hot summer days!

[storiesofsvu]

3, 22, 28, 31, and 40 for the writer asks

thank you for asking!! 😊❤️

3. is there a trope you would't touch with a ten foot pole?

a/b/o. it is just NOT my style. I did once read a bucky barnes abo fic that was written beautifully and the story didn't *rely* only on that trope/aspect so that made it better, but i'm defs never going to write it.

22. choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit into your current writing style.

oo... okay...imma pass on this one simply because I am in the process of rewriting one of the very first fics that I ever wrote. it'll start to get posted starting in january i do believe.

28. Share three of your fave fic writers and why you like them so much?

@tropes-and-tales is absolutely amazing @bumblebear30 truly captures the characters beautifully and the ship dynamics SO well. @swimmingstudentchaos891 it's the chaos vibes bestie.

31. do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

it depend on the fic/fandom/characters! like, i'm writing for Bryan Kneef rn, and obvi he was in all of like 3 mins of one ep of the good fight, so we don't have a lot of canon to go off of. So it doesn't really matter. Then the CM fandom, I've only watched the entire thing once all the way through so there's some facts and tidbits i've forgotten about and the like. I think I'm much more into keeping characteristics of characters accurate to canon. Like, the amount of people who come into my inbox wanting a nice fluffy piece about Alex Cabot cooking a big fancy dinner or baking... like... homegirl set her stove on fire in canon, so i'm big on sticking to that. or like, the fact that she drinks tea instead of coffee.

like, obvi there are times that we ignore marriages, kids, sexuality, etc to make things work for the fics we want. but i'll stop rambling now LOL.

40. write an alternate ending to {insert fic here}

hmm.... OO!

"Nobody's You" with Heather Dunbar x reader, where they were having an affair and Heather gets the emergency contact call when yn ends up in the hospital (nothing too serious). they've previously broken up because heather let herself fall in love with yn instead of keeping it sexual and feels terrible about everything. it end with heather dropping yn off at home and that's it.

BUT

when i was drafting it out I did plan on ending it with Heather returning home to her husband just completely wrought with guilt over the entire thing. She's been cheating for years but it was all meaningless until yn, she never thought she could actually fall in love with someone else. So when she gets home she comes clean. her husband just looks at her and is all "i know..." and then it was either that (because he is a dr) he was the one that stitched yn up and she either did a unique habit that she'd picked up from heather or he did the whole "tell me a story" to distract her and she told one about something heather did for her that was a tradition type thing. he's not really upset or mad about it, and i wasn't sure how i was going to wrap it all up so i scrappedit.

Fic writers asks!

[falling-raine]

well this is terrifying but uh here we go

3 I like

1.

but the sun fades away

night falls and the birds don't sing

the stars appear, a pitiful imitation of your brilliance, and I long for your light

you will rise again and I will fly and maybe then I will reach your embrace

-a piece of my good omens/icarus poem

2.

The angel still wept but now he grieved. For his entire world had been stripped from him for good. Any lingering hope had been washed away in a flood of tears that would never truly fall from his eyes. And as he suffered in a silence none dared to break. Time flowed around him as he sat there, a weeping angel, still as stone.

-a piece from my fic

3.

roots dig deep spreading into the ground and branches burst from me reaching into the sky

flowers bloom coated red from my blood pain seen as beauty

leaves plucked from branches by careless children scattered and ignored

seasons turn and I grow

I learn to build walls to keep the tear like sap from leaking and the words carved into my bark from cutting to deep

as praise for flowers that only cause hurt and discomfort is whispered over and over and I am stuck

no escape for my roots are still and my branches reach out whispering pleas into the wind

and the leaves I grow with care and love fall and are crushed underfoot and discarded, crumpled

-and another poem piece, mostly about being trans

3 I hate

1.

They trailed off as Crowley's breath steadied and heart slowed. Azi smiled down at his demon with their heart full of pain and went to miracle the lights off when he heard a faint whisper. "Please leave them on...and maybe keep singing."

This last part was even fainter than the first, Azi just nodded and pulled Crowley's head onto their lap so it was more comfortable for her. He started braiding the short strands of hair as he recalled the lyrics, then his voice once again filled the room but this time more hesitant as if worried what the demon would think.

-a piece from my first ever fic

2.

“So, do you think Rose and Vera would know we were here, or would we have to go back?”

“I can message them,” I say as I pull out my phone and open the messaging app. We have a group chat that may or may not be named ‘Skittle people’ (it's as chaotic as it can be). After I attempt to message them, I tell her there's no signal before slipping the phone into my pack. As I brush the dirt off my dress, I look around at our hangout spot. A giant, old, white oak tree towers above us, leaves falling in the wind. The ground is only slightly muddy despite it pouring rain almost all night. I’m glad that I picked an old, flowy, beat up dress because there was no way I was keeping it clean. I had also picked out a pair of beat up Doc Martens that somehow still fit.

-a snipet of the rough draft of a book im writing

3.

“Yes, do you not like them? I'm sorry I should have gotten something else, I knew you wouldn't like it. It was a dumb gift dear, I'm sorry I will take them back immediately. It was stupid of me." Azi scrambled to take the gecko and apologize as if terrified Crowley was going to get annoyed with him.

-a piece of my second ever fic

uh yea @styx142 if you want try this here ya go and anyone else who want to

thanks asmi

starting a tag game for writers

Hi, it's Asmi! Okay, so, I've seen so many people afraid to start/continue writing because they're afraid it'll be garbage. And it's so sad how much joy and creativity is getting lost because of that fear. I've written utter shit before, and looking back on it is actually hilarious, and also, it's a reminder of how far I've come as a writer.

I really, really want people to be less afraid of the written word and of creating, and to get rid of that aura of mystery and elitism that often covers the writing process. Writing is messy and it's hell and it's torture. And it's amazing.

So here's the tag game:

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago] that you love. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

I'll start. It's not as scary as it seems, I promise.

Things I've written that I find shitty:

The first man grabbed him by his collar, pinned him against the wall of the cave in which they were standing, and spat, “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done before. If the Queen’s not in the graveyard tonight, King Baza’s going to plan a most delightful execution for you. And even if he doesn’t, you being his nephew and all, I will arrange an accidental blowing up of your house when you are, tragically, inside.” [discount wall slam scene courtesy of 2016 Asmi, you're welcome]

“Overreacting?” said Dextor in disbelief, staring at Jay like, ‘What is wrong with you, dude?’ [sigh. my serious-scene-writing left a lot to be desired.]

“Don’t go,” I said, fighting tears. “Please, don’t leave me, too! You’re all I have left.” Strange thoughts for a child, but I meant every word. She looked at me with anguish. “I am sorry, Phil. Believe me, you are all I have, too, and this hurts me more than it does you. You’re like my son.” [I'm hysterical rereading this melodramatic shit, which was NOT the intended effect]

Things that I've written that I love:

He dropped the books onto a nearby chair and pulled her into his arms as he’d been longing to do all day, the smell of blueberries and hair product and her. The books she was holding were pressed against his chest, and he didn’t care. Why did he need to love the stars when he could love her, why did he need to look up at the sky for answers when they were right there in his arms? [I love this because when I first wrote it, I thought it was romantic, but I realised later that the boy, Ant, is aroace, and it doesn't change a thing about this scene, except that their love is platonic]

"Maybe being happy is the best that we can do. Maybe that’s more than most people manage, anyway.” They stood in front of the entrance, over puddles that reflected all the broken skyscrapers and the colours of the street and the grey-yellow sky. “Whatever you do with your parents,” she said. “Don’t let your guilt get in the way of doing ballet. It’s not wrong to be happy. It’s not.” [This is from the book I finished and I published, and I just really like this paragraph. It's not my favourite, but it makes me smile.]

The last you may leave wherever you please, wherever it is birds land to die. [A line from a poem I wrote in 2022, I like the rhythm]

(It took effort to find ones that I wanted to share, oof. If you find this difficult just know you're not alone. I usually like my writing, but turns out it's hard to take something you created and go hey, look, I'm proud of this. But we can do it.)

Alright, of course anyone who sees this is welcome to join, and tag the writers you know so we can all be uh writerly together :") but to start it off, no pressure tags @howmanyholesinswisscheese, @1800ineedshelp, @queermarzipan, @thescholarlystrumpet, @madfangirlontheloose.

Oh, and also tagging @neil-gaiman, @dduane, @drchucktingle just because maybe if you see this and join in, new writers will find comfort in knowing their role models have ups and downs, good and bad days too :")

Have a lovely day, everyone, and keep writing.

[haec-est-fides]

My queue ran out so I threw in everything I’ve been meaning to reblog and hit shuffle,,,

[grantspectortrash]

Lover Boy

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Jake goes on a mission for Khonshu and he’s away for months. You knew the deal when you became his girlfriend, it would never be easy. Now, he's come home.

Warnings/tags: Mentions of Jake's mission like murder etc and a bit of angst at the beginning, but no other scary things! Just fluff, cuteness & little implied smut at the end (but not 18+ so dw)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: ok this has been in my drafts for WEEKS bc I just wasn't sure if people had left their moon knight era already but hopefully not. Enjoy babies <3 any requests lmk!!

-

Jake is in the shower. Your apartment has become a bombsite since he returned only two hours ago. His bloody clothes are strewn across your sofa, his bag - full of god knows what - is on your coffee table and a broken vase lays shattered on the floor.

In truth, the vase was your fault. Jake had been gone months on a mission he could tell you nothing about. You hadn't had contact with him the entire time and, quite frankly, you were beginning to wonder if maybe this time being Khonshu's bitch just hadn't worked out. The big bird had used Jake for all he was worth and that was it - end of the line.

So, when he knocked on your door as casually as a pizza delivery guy, you had flipped your lid. Of course you were happy to see your boyfriend, but you were also fuming. You had screamed at him, and hugged him, and kissed him and then thrown something at him.

He understood. He knew how hard this life was on you. And despite the yelling and the vase, he was happy to be home. Now, he's enjoying the luxuries of being at home, washing all the dirt and blood off his body and using your vanilla and jasmine scented body wash. And you're in shock.

"The vase. Clean up the vase." You whisper to yourself. Luckily there isn't even any flowers in the vase, so the clean up is easy. The only time there were flowers in the vase was when Jake was home.

You sweep up the ceramic pieces and tip them into the bin. You'll just have to get a new vase, whatever. It shouldn't even bother you, seeing those pieces all smashed up, but it does. And when you close the lid of the bin, you cry.

At first just quietly, then, great heaving sobs. It's a mix of relief and pain and all your emotions congeal into one. You think of how many nights you spent alone, worried sick out of your mind. You think of your last date with Jake, and how wonderful it was, before Khonshu appeared and ripped him away from you. You think of the guy that tried to hit on you at work and you had to reject him - "Why though? I never see your boyfriend. He obviously doesn't love you."

That comment had hurt, and there was nothing you could do about it. You carried your hurt around for months - to work, to dinner with friends, when you were alone. And now, you let it out.

You make your way to the bathroom and rap your knuckles against the door. The water shuts off immediately. You hear Jake shuffling about in there, and then the door opens.

In the months that he's been away he's grown a beard, and his hair is grown-out and wild. You hadn't seen him like this before, and it takes some getting used to.

He's got a towel wrapped around the bottom half of his body and his top half is still glistening wet. Drips of water fall from his hair onto his shoulders.

Jake takes one look at you crying and pulls you into a hug, "Come here, I'm here now. I'm home. Estoy en casa, understand?"

You nod into the crook of his neck. He's warm against your skin and you don't care about getting wet because your tears have already dampened your cheeks and they're beginning to pool in Jake's collar bones.

He pulls away and takes your face in his hands, gently wiping your tears from your face. "I couldn't be happier to be home, bebita. Please stop crying. You've got me now, I'm back."

"I know." You sniffle, actively ignoring his longing gaze, "I know."

"Look at me." He turns your face with his hand and you do as he says. You can't help but smile, and he gives you a smile back. It's something you've missed, seeing him look at you like that, and your heart melts. You reach up to touch his beard, all soft and damp from the shower.

"I can't believe how much you've changed. I've missed you."

Without hesitating, Jake scoops you up into his arms. You make a squeak of surprise, but just laugh as he carries you into the bedroom.

"I've missed you too." He winks at you and kisses you on the cheek before setting you down on the bed.

The room has barely changed since the last time he was there; everything was exactly where he had left them the night he had to leave, but one of his hoodies is on the bed - one that you wore to sleep practically every night.

Jake smiles at the sight of it, and puts it on. You start to protest, claiming it's yours now.

"Hey, it smells like you. And it's mine. I'm wearing it." Jake is firm, but there's a smirk on his face, letting you know he enjoys the fact you've been wearing his clothes.

He takes the towel off and puts on clean underwear and comfy bottoms. You watch the entire time, mesmerised.

"I'm so lucky to have you. I don't know what I would've done if-"

You don't finish the sentence, but you don't have to. Jake knows what you're trying to say. He sits beside you on the bed and takes your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"Don't, princesa. I will always come back to you. Nobody will stop me from getting back to you. Not Khonshu, not nobody. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod.

Jake slowly wraps his arms around you and shuffles towards the top of the bed so his head rests against the pillows. You rest against his chest. Your legs intertwine with his and he sneaks a hand under your top to feel your skin against his. You run a hand through his hair and brush your palm against his beard.

You stay that way for a long time, not even saying anything. Usually, when Jake came home after a mission he would pounce on you immediately. And you would love every minute of it. He was intense and sexy and everything you had missed while he was away, he would give to you. Over and over. But this time was different. Jake had never been gone this long and this time he was gentle. Caring. He was more vulnerable.

"What happened? While you were away?" Your voice is barely a whisper. You don't want to make him uncomfortable, but you also want to know.

"Bad things. If I say too much...Khonshu...he'll make my life worse. He made me do things, Y/N. More shit than ever and...it's fine, y'know? Better me than Marc or Steven." He sighs, running one hand over his face, "I have blood on my hands and it was a mistake. Khonshu is in some deep cagada and made me hurt the wrong people...kill the wrong people. Innocent people. And all that time...it was too much. Even for me." Jake whispers back to you, the entire time rubbing his hand against your back in slow circles.

There's a tightness in his voice, and you can tell he doesn't want to say anymore. Perhaps can't say anymore.

"Steven and Marc, they've had it rough." Jake is absentmindedly moving his fingers back and forth against your skin, and you can tell he's feeling agitated. "I'm giving them the time they need but fuck, it's bad, baby. So bad."

"You're home now." You don't know what else to say. "You're home."

One of your hands is in Jake's hair and the other rests on his chest. You can hear his heart beating and he feels warm against you. Without thinking, you roll on top of him and straddle him around his waist. You plant both hands on the side of his face, his beard scratching at the palms of your hands, and you kiss him. Hard.

"No matter what happens," You say, barely pulling away from him. Your lips graze each others as you talk, "I will always be waiting for you. I will always be here for you."

"Ah, mi querida, what would I do without you?" He's looking up at you with that gorgeous smile, perfect teeth and rosy lips surrounded by his new, full beard. You can't ignore how there's a new scar, fully healed, on top of his left eyebrow.

"You'd crash and burn, pretty boy. Crash and burn." You reach a hand up to tentatively run a finger against the scar, Jake catches your hand and hold's it to his own. He brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of yours.

"Pretty boy?" He raises an eyebrow, the one without a scar, and smirks at you. It makes you laugh, harder than you've laughed in months, and you finally realise he's home. No more crying yourself to sleep, no more wishing and waiting to hear from him. No more nights watching reruns of shows alone or cooking meals for one - he's home and you can finally laugh again.

"Yeah, pretty boy." You smile at him, and when you've finally had enough of straddling him, you slide off to one side and cuddle into him. He wraps an arm around you and plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Pretty boy, gorgeous boy, my one and only boy," You continue, poking Jake on the nose with every single example, "My lover boy."

You go to poke Jake again, but this time he grabs your wrist at lightning speed and suddenly you're moving - Jake's settling you down on your back and he’s hovering over you with that sparkle in his eye that lets you know he's glad to be home too. Glad to be with you once again.

"Lover boy, huh?" There's a playful smile on his lips and he dips down to place kisses on your cheeks and on your neck.

"Mhhm." Your voice is already breathy - you'd forgotten what it felt like to be underneath Jake, but it doesn't take you long to remember. "My lover boy."

He nips at the base of your neck then, an action that catches you off guard and leaves your heart racing. You decide then and there that you're not letting another minute go to waste. Jake is home and he is yours and that's all you ever need.

-

@later-gators12 @dopeqff @alicetweven @toracainz @bristark616 @insomniacfigure @allthingsvicf @leh2393 @minetticatinwonderland @elles-mind-palace @christineblood @fandxmslxt69 @sir-knight-slytherdor