#//my muses are awake

[feathersofvibranium]

//-rises from a several years long hiatus-

sup

[lunaetis]

[ i was planning to be back writing & active again after the event but i'm hit with a flu. my throat is killing me, my head is throbbing, and i'm running a mild fever that i have a feeling will escalate soon ... might take a day off tmr if it doesn't get better. activity will resume after. sorry for keeping you guys waiting ... ]

[bobbyfloyd]

had this thought last night of you getting to peg rhett, but only when he loses rides. so it’s few and far in between. and because it’s essentially a punishment for losing, you always make him ride you. and i literally was just thinking about him grinding on your strap while his cock just bobs in front of you and you’re being mean as hell. telling him how badly he rode tonight and how ‘we’re gonna practice all night until you learn something’ and only winners get to cum. maybe you edge him all night, making him stop so he can eat you out. you straddle his face, strap still half on. eats you out until you’re dripping. maybe you make him taste himself on your strap after, get it all wet again for his ass. then you repeat that whole thing over and over until he’s almost delirious and mumbling about how good he’s been and ‘please, darlin’, please’ and then you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, only stimulating that sensitive spot on the back of his head, and he cums almost instantly. then you spend the rest of the night taking care of your big, strong cowboy 😮‍💨🫣

he always feels as if he needs to pay some sort of penance for a bad ride. which you've never pushed him to do, he's the one that comes to you on his own, seeking it out. he gets all agitated and bratty after a bad ride. he knows if he acts up it'll get him punished and fucked within an inch of his life, so that's why he does it. but he won't outright say it. you have to wrestle him down to the bed and put him in his place. and he lets you. he doesn't put up much of a fight. when you tell him to ride you, he's trying so hard, bouncing on your strap, face a mask of concentration.

and god, if you edge him? that's a sure way to get him to lose his mind. he gets soooo whiny and starts begging for you to let him come after the first denied orgasm. but you need to wring it out of him, turn him into a sniveling, crying mess. only when tears are streaming down his cheeks and he can't form anything but a babbled out "please, please, please' do you let him come. he sobs as he spills into your mouth, and thanking you for it. and you'd best believe the aftercare needs to be very extensive. you clean him up lovingly and then give him all the skin to skin contact he needs. he doesn't let go of you for the rest of the night, and he needs to hear your praise whispered against his hair as you cradle him close.

[musecastle]

Like for a short starter from Patrick!

[braskide]

rattles the bars of my enclosure . ... i am without any sleep on my back so today is definitely a lurking / sending people stuff in their inboxes day .. .. but i want to write my gorl so much .... .. ALSOOO the meta post i wrote weeks ago suddenly reappeared in my drafts ?! maybe i'll finish that train of thought instead as a compromise.. .. pls plsplspls keep warm today and enjoy the weekend oomfies! love love love u!

[ioannemos]

Febuwhump day six: forced to stay awake

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Words: 500

-------

When Dani asks what happened to Malcolm’s jacket, he points to where it’s been thrown over a lamp, and when she asks why he isn’t wearing it he just shrugs. She asks if he’s hurt anywhere else and it takes him far too long to murmur “No.” She moves a few things away from the single (extremely dirty and half-covered on the outside) window and when she calls him he shuffles over. Then, when she starts to part his hair to look for where he was hit, he flinches, moans, and grabs her wrist to half-heartedly push her away.

A pit opens in Dani’s chest. Withdrawn, docile, quiet… was this what he was like as a kid? Rage is quick to follow. If it is, there isn’t a hell deep enough for Martin Whitly. “It’s okay,” she says, desperately trying to scrub emotion from her voice.

“Paramedics’re gonna poke around anyway,” he protests, a little slurred. “Can’t you just leave it for them?”

She hesitates, then nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

He nods back, relaxing a little. “Thanks.” He’s still trembling all over, but his hands are plenty warm. As she steps back, he releases her wrist with a self-conscious exhaled laugh. “Sorry.”

“Bright, it’s fine.”

“Oh, so you can say it…”

“You say it when you’re obviously not,” she points out. “Kinda loses its meaning when you do that.” The only furniture seems to be broken. “C’mon, let’s sit down over here.”

“The floor’s cold,” he warns her, following her regardless as she takes his hand to tug him towards a clear spot along a wall. “And the walls.”

“Of course they are, it’s a shed in November.” She pushes him gently, then sits next to him. The concrete seems to suck all the heat out of her body. “Oof.”

He smiles for a moment. “Told you.” He rests his forehead on his knees with a sigh. “I’m tired.”

“Do not fall asleep, you have a head injury.”

“I know.” He sounds awfully indignant for someone who checks himself out AMA whenever possible.

She sighs and sandwiches her hands between her thighs. The basement smells like dust and a faint metal tang. She wonders if she’s smelling his blood. “What’d he hit you with?” He hums a shrug. “Any idea how long ago it was?”

“Time’s been kinda fuzzy down here.” He sighs again. His all-over tremor has slowed to the occasional shiver. “I’m glad you’re real,” he mumbles. He might be starting to list in her direction.

It should be funny, the way he yelps and nearly falls over when she presses her cold fingers against his neck. “Head injury,” she snaps. “I’m glad you’re not alone anymore too but you’ve gotta stay awake, Bright.”

“I wasn’t falling asleep!” He settles back down a little further away from her. “You should register those. Inflicting them on unsuspecting people should constitute assault.”

She can’t help smiling a little. “Yeah, well, stay awake and you won’t have to worry about it.”

[crabsnpersimmons]

me: whew! all done with that drawing. now i can go back to writing tha--

art muse: I HAVE A FUNNY IDEA TO DRAW

me: WHAT WE'VE BEEN DRAWING ALL DAY LET WRITING MUSE HAVE A TURN

writing muse: (goes back to sleep until they need to be awoken to write an email or something)

me: well... fine. are we at least going to draw the other thing we said we're going to draw a month ago?

art muse: NO, DRAW THIS INSTEAD

[spybiote]

she's back.

[movietonight]

Shawn mentions not liking coffee. My headcanon is that he has that thing that's common with adhd that caffeine doesn't work on him like normal

[reallyrandomtj]

Feels like adding Neuvilette as a muse on SINDAY is a strategically 'bad' move for him as a new muse.

But 'good' for those who want to try 'romance' the Dragon Sovereign of Hydro.

Neuvilette right now, probably:

[honmawari]

2:32 a.m. 25/03/15

i like the concept of fate because it is easier to blame something that is out of reach and ineffable. it's easier to blame fate when things go wrong because fate does not get angry or disappointed. fate just looms over you. and when things do go right, fate blooms around you. it comforts me; it cheers me.

fate is ethereal. fate is illusory — phantasmic. yet i choose to believe in it when i myself lay on my knees, broken. my belief grows stronger on days my breath does not fit right in my lungs and my shoulders break from my own mistakes. it is easier to believe in fate; it is easier to blame fate when my shoulders can't bear another word of my own blame.

there's this thing i learned about fate when i was learning Japanese. they call fate "運命," or unmei. when literally dissected apart, the two kanji mean "carrying" and "life." so that makes fate mean something like carried life. i like to believe i carried my virtues and sins from my past life. but does it matter what i believe in anyway? some people would argue i believe in things that do not exist — that are delusions of my own mind.

i'm grateful for my fate nonetheless. it makes me question myself — my morality, my ethics. it lets me delude myself when things push on my knees and drown me in the sand. it lets me shed a few tears of joy when i am on the cliffs, exhilarated.

maybe fate does not exist. but maybe it does.

[sakurarisen]

Just dropping in as an update: I'm not dead! XD I'm kind of back on a semi-hiatus for a bit, which I should've mentioned weeks ago I'm aware, but haven't had the chance to - There's been a bunch of offline stress creeping up that's sapping my ability to function a lot of the time, and I've been dealing with a couple particular health complications causing mild pain, but enough to keep me distracted from actually being able to write like I want to. On top of that, I've managed to get very sick and have been largely stuck in bed for the better past of over two weeks, with a fuzzy head that keeps the muses awake, but my ability to actually word at bay.

At this point, whatever ability I have to actually write is going to background updates - Some of which will be happening on this blog today, provided the stressors don't decide to be jerks for once - and off-dash rp, as well as working on my thousands of icons I have in my backlog. I'm trying to get back on blog for actual rp stuff as my health fluctuates, but I just wanted to drop in and note I'm not gone - I'm just sick af, and incredibly sorry to anyone looking for me for the sudden (total) radio silence! <3

~Pom

[intcritus]

so much good food in my inbox, bless.

[chishigure]

IDK why, but my motivation for writing has just been absolutely low???? Not sure if it's because I've become overwhelmed with writing, or maybe I'm just having a burn out irl and now my anxiety has been all over the place, and depression has started to build up for me again.

Like I want to write again, but everytime I try to work on some drafts, nothing comes out. I'm just braindead, and I don't want to force myself to write because that won't make anything fun for me, plus that would also just make me not want to write anymore if it's just forced.

If I'm writing then it's just dash commentaries or small shenanigans, but overall... I'm not even sure if I'll ever have motivation to write again because I'm just burned out and everything is just so mentally draining for me now, even when I try do to the things that I use to like doing.

Now these days if I'm not at work I'm just playing a simple MMO that I can just vibe in, or I'm laying down and watching TV.

[cxpperhead]

His pale chest rises and falls gently, so slowly and quietly that he appears more like a statue than an actual living, breathing being. The occasional flicker of movement in his eyes is the only sign that point to Copperhead being alive, his serpentine eyes perpetually open behind their clear scales as is known with all snakes. He's asleep, though vigilant even in rest, the assassin posed ready to strike in the event trouble crosses his path during this time.

[redrobin-detective]

The thing about writing that no one tells you is sometimes the absolute weirdest shit can make you write. You could beg, plead, feed and cry to your muse without producing any words but one unrelated thing can suddenly open the floodgates.