#Fucking writer's block

[ravenquingvax]

WE ARE MAKING PROGRESS ON THE VAMPIRE VAX FIC

[noh07]

writers in a nutshell

[the-fandom-therapist]

Tsumugi is a bitch. That is all I want to say.

[alittlebitofrainbyyourside]

Story Number One That I've Been Plotting That I might Never Write:

Rain and Pai are two Omegas who work at Alpha Management. In a world that is predominately filled with betas- there are certain advantages to hiring Alphas in the business world- they just require a delicate hand at times. Enter- Alpha Management, a company that recruits the best of the best Omegas. They get specialized training and then are sent to 'solve problems' at companies that are struggling with interpersonal issues in the office due to Alphas. Rain is the newest recruit and is sent with his Senior, Pai, to Pakin's company. Pakin is having *several* problems with the Alphas in his business and he wants Rain and Pai to get to the bottom of it *now*. Rain is assigned to figure out how to end what appears to be a territory dispute between Alpha Phayu and Alpha Stop and Pai is sent to work with Alpha Sky- who has basically been emotionally abusing some of his beta subordinates because he Does Not Suffer Fools. Pai and Rain end up having to switch assignments because Phayu won't stop hitting on Rain and Stop basically refuses to work with him all together. Pai and Phayu bond over their lax opinions on the idea of 'don't fuck people you're working with' and plot how they're going to Get Their Mates.

[noh07]

oh yes, absolutely

[nondelphic]

writers don’t have hobbies, they have hyperfixations masquerading as ‘research.’

[the-one-that-weeps]

Every time someone in this godforsaken fandom says "I think we've talked about misogyny enough" I want to hit them with a hammer. No we haven't.

We haven't even talked about the deep "Ruikasa&Akitoya Vs. literally everyone else" imbalance enough but imagine all of the people that get pressured into writing specifically for male/male ships simply because otherwise they won't get any appreciation.

Yes it's a cowardly thing but when you see Ruikasa having over 4000 fics and Ichisaki having like 5 in total obviously you're going to be discouraged. Obviously you'll be biased into creating Ruikasa instead of other ships.

And as someone who depends on appreciation in particular to do any work at all obviously that's going to have a lasting consequence. Some people spend 4 hours crying in front of a screen just for 3 people to like their work and leave, it's understandable if they lose passion for creating at all, you guys killed them.

It's even in how we handle m/m ships. You go into a fic that's tagged Rui&Tsukasa(platonic), someone in the comments always goes "okay but when do they kiss". You go to an action-packed longfic, someone always ends up going "okay but when do they kiss".

Fuck you guys. Actually. This is a silly piano tiles game about Hatsune Miku, we should be one of the MOST CREATIVE fandoms in history and somehow people still get mad over two boys not kissing immediately after getting introduced. It's so fucking difficult being a content creator in this fandom because you always end up having to take the same route. They meet they tease they kiss. End of story. "Oh you're doing something "lame" instead? -1 kudo. Bring me my yaoi next🖕"

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: canon divergence, getting together ♚ Words: 2883

ao3

---

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

---

Click.

Cursing softly under his breath, Stiles flicks the light switch up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. “Fucking hell.” Stiles massages the bridge of his nose. His stupid light. Everything else – even exorcising this damned place – worked out beautifully. Which is a miracle. Thanks to the residual demon, who infested this place after the previous owners fucked around – and found out – with a Ouija board in the late 50s, this house has been in a nightmarish state. Every inch of this place was a deathtrap. Rotten wood. Broken stairs. A ceiling, roof and second floor so unstable, a gust of wind could cause everything to collapse in a heartbeat.

Stiles spent more than one night in a tent in front of the house.

A bark cuts through the silence of the house, startling him out of his thoughts. Drawing his brows together, he looks past the stubborn ceiling light to the second-floor landing. The puppy he’s found under the house, white fur crusted with dirt and blood – aptly named Bobak, Bo for short – and who has refused to leave Stiles’ side ever since he fed him for the first time, is staring at him almost expectantly. Although some dog owners most likely won’t be happy about his lifestyle – flipping and clearing out haunted houses and constantly moving around – Stiles refuses to give Bobak away. Bo might not be the cuddliest or most social of dogs, he still makes Stiles’ life less, much less, lonely.

Bo barks again.

Stiles quirks a brow. “What? It’s not dinner time yet.”

Wagging his tail, Bo bounds down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last two steps. He catches himself, jumps up the front door once before all but flying around Stiles’ legs then, finally, making a mad dash out of the backdoor and into the yard. There, he keeps zooming around, causing colored leaves to fly into the air, and barking his adorable little head off, too big ears fluttering in the wind. He’s going to miss Bo’s floppy ears once he’s grown into them.

Before Stiles can follow him, there’s a knock on the door. He glances up at the clock, narrowing his eyes once more as it passes the current bane of existence – maybe he should just get an electrician this once – and turns to the front door. It’s not late, per se, but darkness is setting in, and people are still keeping their distance to this place. So, he isn’t usually expecting anyone to swing by, even less since his closest neighbor lives around a mile away, but the person he never imagined to come over is Derek Hale.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles swings the door open.

“Hey.” Derek’s smile seems strained. To be honest, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else – not unlike the first time they met at the only diner in town. Well, met might be stretching it. That day, Derek couldn’t finish his lunch fast enough, even Sally was surprised by his precipitate behavior. So much so, she commented on it while serving Stiles his food.

He had chalked it up to Derek sensing something about him the same way Stiles clocked him as a werewolf the second he laid eyes on him – aside from noticing that the guy is a walking and talking Calvin Klein advertisement. Instead of avoiding him, however, Derek kept showing up all over the place. It seemed accidental, but Stiles has dealt with enough supernatural creatures and grew up with a sheriff that he can recognize stalking behavior when he sees it.

Derek’s never been lurking around here, though.

Well, not until today, that is.

And Stiles’ heart is having a field day with it, which is rather unfortunate with Derek’s supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles manages to clear his throat about thirty seconds into the terribly awkward silence. “Hey.” He sounds like an idiot. He feels like one too. “Can I- do you-” Bo interrupts him with a slew of excited barks, zooming through the hallway and back out again, sending more leaves flying around; it gives Stiles a few seconds to gather himself. “You wanna come in?”

“I bought dinner,” Derek says at the same time.

They both stare at each other, and the silence makes Stiles’ neck grow uncomfortably warm.

Luckily, Derek cuts it short. “I’d love to.”

Stiles steps aside and gestures for Derek to come in. This is happening. He’s not entirely sure how or why, but it is, and Stiles is not about to complain. The last time a hot guy walked into his home was – when? Stiles doesn’t really remember. Which is sad, honestly. Sure, he’s been aware that both his social and love life have sailed off a cliff once he started dictating his life to ghost and demon hunting, but now, watching Derek stroll into his kitchen, he realized for the first time how bad it’s really gotten in the past four years.

“Looks good,” Derek remarks, almost curious in the way he’s taking everything in. “You did an excellent job keeping the old charm alive.”

Crossing his arms, Stiles leans against the large doorway leading to the kitchen. “You’ve been here before?”

Derek shrugs as he puts the bag with the takeout on the dinner table. “Teenagers and haunted houses.”

“Werewolves too?”

If Derek is surprised that Stiles knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, an almost cheeky grin curls around his lips. “Werewolves especially.”

Stiles snorts and crosses the room. “I expected you to be smarter.” He glances at Derek, smirking briefly, and steps in front of the only cupboard he uses. The good thing about moving around so much is that he never collects any clutter. As a teen and college student, things looked very different. Two boxes, a couple of suitcases and his backpack fit into Roscoe anyway. Now that Bo is traveling with him, he’s got to figure out the new logistics.

“How’d you do it?” Derek asks as he takes the two plates from him.

Their fingers brush, either on purpose or entirely accidental. Stiles doesn’t know, but the touch sends a tingle through his whole body. A good tingle, great even, and Stiles hates to realize how touch starved he really is.

Stiles opens the fridge, scowling a little as he’s greeted with emptiness. He really needs to go grocery shopping. “Very carefully,” he replies and grabs two bottles of beer. “And lots of research." Once he's figured out where to look, finding pictures of old houses isn’t that much of a struggle. Often, he meets the previous owners, who either think he’s suicidal or are very happy to help.

Derek watches him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “The demon or the house flipping?”

“Ah.” Stiles sets the bottles on the table and leans against the edge. “That’s why you’re here.”

Derek merely watches him, eyebrows climbing higher as his expression turns more and more expectant. An alpha after all. He’s probably used to people jumping at his command.

It might be fun to let him stew for a little longer. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“I just did.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, “I meant ask me about why those werewolf senses are tingling whenever you’re around me.” He cocks his head to the side and decides to put himself out there, for once, “unless, of course, there are other reasons for that.” He’s got Derek in his house already and considering that he leaves as soon as it is sold, there’s no harm done, no awkward darting around each other needed in case he’s rejected. Two months tops, and he’s out of this town, where everyone knows everybody, and nothing ever stays secret.

Derek’s lips twitch.

Good. So, Stiles didn’t exactly imagine the lingering looks whenever they, clearly not entirely accidentally, ran into each other absolutely everywhere. In a town with less than 100 people, it’s impossible to hide anyway.

“Tingling?” Derek echoes, more amused than in disbelief.

Stiles lets his head fall back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s gaze drops to his neck then back up again. “You’re a poor conversationalist.”

“And you’re dodging the question.”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rolling his head to the left to look at the werewolf again. “Geez, D, you can’t just ask people why they’re making you feel weird.”

A flicker of annoyance dances over his features, either at the nickname or his refusal to give him the desired reply. Still, Derek props his hands on the table and leans closer, one eyebrow raised. “I can if I consider them a danger to my pack and territory.”

Fair point.

However, “I literally exorcised this fucking demon.” Although nobody has died in this house in almost a decade, Stiles considers it future deaths prevented.

Derek taps a finger against the table, allows red to bleed into his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushes away from the table and faces the werewolf, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Although Derek didn’t outright threaten him, Stiles is fully aware that this evening could easily turn into his last if the big bad alpha considers him too dangerous, which would very much be the exact opposite of how he’d prefer this evening to go. He sighs. “I was possessed by a nogitsune when I was sixteen.” Stiles doesn't miss as Derek’s expression return to stoic, listening, waiting. He sees the way his shoulders tense, the way something in his eyes shift, ever so slightly. The moment of truth, always and forever. "It did some weird shit with my body, cracked my mind like an egg, hence the whole-” he waves his hand around. “Thought I could do something good if I can pierce the veil, you know?” It makes him feel less guilty about the shit the nogitsune did while using his body like a meatsuit.

But that’s something nobody else needs to know about.

Derek straightens.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Stiles chuckles, playing pretend. Dealing with demons is one thing. They’re very capable of murder, more so than ghosts, but depending on their strength and rank, they need time – time to get into your head, time to fuck with you. They have to chip away their target’s defenses. Knowing and being prepared for a demon makes dealing with them a lot easier. Plus, if he’s learned anything from his own possession, it’s how to keep things out of his mind. Werewolves are a different beast entirely. If they want someone dead, all they have to do is pin them down and rip their throat out.

Derek pushes away from the table and all but stalks closer to him, narrowing the small distance the table offers. “Of course, I could.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the table. It’s one of the few things Stiles could repair from the old furniture, so, luckily, Derek keeps his claws in check.

Stiles swallows drily and rips his gaze away from Derek’s hand, locking eyes with him again. “Awfully confident there, buddy.”

His words are met with a near predatory glint in the hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes, at that. Easy to get lost in.

Focus.

“You don’t scare me.”

Derek stops directly in front of him. They’re nearly chest to chest, and although Derek isn’t necessarily taller than him, Stiles feels weirdly small. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way he is holding himself, the way he is looking at him – as if Stiles is a rabbit cornered by the big bad wolf. Red bleeding into his eyes accentuates the whole predator predicament.

Fucking werewolves, seriously.

“Cute,” Stiles comments anyway, uncrossing his arms and straightening his shoulders and spine. “Still not scared, though.” They’re probably both aware that’s not entirely true, but he’s never been someone to back down from a challenge. “You gotta do more than creeping around in the bushes and stare at me with your alpha eyes.” Especially since the latter is actually pretty damn hot, which isn’t exactly helping the situation.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Derek informs him in a casual yet amused tone.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, big guy.”

Derek chuckles, letting his head fall forward as he does so – and Stiles can’t help but watch his mouth move. It’s fascinating. Every time he’s seen Derek, the guy has been scowling. Stiles didn’t think he could chuckle, much less laugh.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

Beautiful even.

His heartbeat picks up when Derek locks eyes with him again. “You’re not very attentive.”

“Oh, really?” Now, that is just plain rude and so uncalled for. “How do you think I’m finding these demons? By paying very close attention to details. So, I am attentive. I’m actually the most at-”

Derek kisses him. No ifs. No buts. No hesitation. He just does, and his lips are so soft and warm, their touch makes Stiles’ stomach twist with anticipation. Derek moves his hands and cradles his cheeks, thumb tracing a slow, ever so gentle line along his skin. All of Derek’s hard edges are replaced by something tender and raw.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his too tight chest, and his mind blanks, every single thought swept away by the warm lips pressed to his own. He melts against Derek, pressing closer as he curls his fingers around Derek’s bicep and his eyes flutter shut. A soft, almost helpless sound escapes his throat as a warmth floods through him, followed by a kind of ache Stiles doesn’t quite have a name for. They both settle deep inside of him, spreading into every part of his body. His entire body lights up with a want he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, a need for closeness more than just desire.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles moves with him, desperate to hold onto the kiss just a little bit longer.

Derek regards it with a soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.  

The sound alone makes Stiles wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, clears his throat instead. No words come, which in itself is quite the curiosity, and Stiles is almost relieved at the sound of paws hitting the wood. Here to interrupt any possibility of an awkward silence. Stiles glances over his shoulder, watches as Bo enters the room and sniffs the air. It’s probably best to be upfront.

Once more, he clears his throat. “I’m not staying.” He crouches down and can’t help but smile when Bo bumps his head against his leg, demanding attention. “At least not forever. Until the house is sold, and I found the next… target, I guess.” He runs his fingers through Bo’s soft fur as he tries to ignore the way his heart aches at the thought of leaving.

For the first time in years.

Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t know Derek; not how he is as a person, that is. He only knows superficial stuff. What happened to his family, that he’s a werewolf and that he owns the only garage in town, and that he doesn’t need to crawl under cars or get car grime and oil all over himself because he’s loaded. So, he’s either doing it for fun or for the people living in this town… or both. Derek seems to be a good person, but so is Stiles, and Stiles won’t lie — he’s not only a handful, he’s also not particularly nice. Many people called him an asshole. They’re not entirely wrong.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Derek says as he slides onto the chair at the head of the table, very clearly indicating that he’s not planning on leaving soon. “But maybe I can convince you to come back.” 

Stiles blinks up at him, scratching Bo behind his ears. “You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” Derek adds and looks down at him with a smile.

This fucking guy is going to give him a heart attack before Stiles has figured out his favorite color. Aside from that, it dawns on Stiles that he may have misjudged the guy. “So, you stalked me because you like me.”

The tips of Derek’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. Adorable. “I never stalked you.”

Bo barks.

“He says you’re a liar.” Stiles raises to stand and pulls a chair out. “I think you followed me around, but didn’t know how to approach me.” Smirking, he sits down as Bo uses his chance to curl up under his chair.

Instead of replying, Derek opens the bag of takeout and pulls out only the best of Sally’s diner. His ears turn just a shade darker.

Stiles props his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. He totally could get used to this.

[heartelysia]

busy thinking of...

toxic ex! gojo who only broke up with you because he needed to move on! at least he thought he did until you did move on without him, leaving him in the dust. he tries his best to forget about you! he really does, sinking his head into his palms the same way hes sinking his cock into the girl below him. but nothing feels good, nothing can make the aching emptiness in his chest go away, not if its not you.

god he didnt even notice how intoxicated he was with you until you left. you were everything he needed to fucking survive and you just up and left like your three year long relationship was nothing? toxic ex! gojo who will do anything for you back, buying a cup of overpriced coffee at your regular place just to bump heads with you every single day, buying you random flowers and leaving them in your break room of your workplace, texting you non stop even when you blocked most of his accounts.

toxic ex! gojo whos anger boils in the pit of his stomach when you rejected all of his advances, blaming you for all wrongdoings because this would've never happened if you loved him more! he would've mever broken up with you, he wouldnt have to go to the earths ledge for a tiny spark in your 'relationship', he would never have to end up with a fucking restraining order.

hes mad. hes mad that you moved on, hes angry that you left him without begging to stay together, hes furious that your life isn't in shambles. toxic ex! gojo needs you dependant on him, he cant just have you wandering off to another person so easily next time. so he does what any sane person does and stalks you from a distance until the restraining order expires, watching your life unfold in his hollow blue eyes.

dear lord knows how many things toxic ex! gojo has done to try and forget you but nothing seemed to work! from getting into multiple relationships, getting a brand new job in an area he has no experience in to travelling the world, yet everything he did seemed to remind him of your sweet smile.

as any other human being would do, as soon as the document hits its end, he shreds it up and makes his way to your home. you seemed too happy, forgetting about your ex entirely, getting random flings, meeting some new dude called toji, going on dates with said man. toxic ex! gojo couldnt allow that, you were his. you were his property even if you didnt know it and gojo didnt like sharing his property with others.

toxic ex! gojo who couldnt help but notice how many of your flings resembled him, personality or appearance wise, there was always something similar to your ex. that was until toji came into the picture, he was nothing like gojo and your ex felt his veins bulge in irritation. he was your first everything - from hand holding, kissing, picnic dates to sex - so you should still be with him!

he needed you back, he needed you to crawl back to him and plead for forgiveness but that never came. toxic ex! gojo who would break into your apartment when youre on dates with the new man, scoffing when he realizes you still left a spare copy of the keys behind the painting hanging above your door. god you were so easy. when hes inside your apartment, hes hit with the fattest wave of nostalgia.

he instantly heads into your shabby room that gojo stayed in whenever, inhaling the scent of your sweetness like it was an addictive drug. he swears theres a hint of his musk but it might just be someone elses considering its been two years. toxic ex! gojo didnt like that. he fucking hated that idea.

maybe thats how he ended up here, his voice whiny and airy as he desperately humps your pillow as he shoves his nose into the area where it covered your cunt. his poor cock was aching, his tip a burning red colour as the veins running down his thick cock throbbed each time he took a whiff of your panties. god he was so needy, after months of being unable to reach a satisfactory climax, just the feeling of rutting his hips into your pillow that you used daily made precum dribble out of his cock in buckets.

whilst youre happily on the date with toji, gojo is busy having seconds by staining any and all surface in his cum discreetly. he thinks hes never came this much just from masturbating, his balls wrung dry to the core just by the memory of your sweet cunt sloppily making a mess all over his balls and pelvis.

but when the front door of your apartment creaks open, gojo freezes, unable to hide the initial shock on his face. why were your sobs filling the silence?

part 2

[tigers1o1]

Hey guys, real quick.

Do not ever come into my comments with this kind of behavior. Or anyones. Fic writers are real fucking people, and sometimes life shit gets in the way of writing fanfiction (in this case: i literally became homeless and have been for a couple months). This does not ever give anyone the right to be an asshole over a piece of fucking fiction.

This is FANFICTION. It is NOT THAT DEEP.

Rant over, I’m deleting that comment thread. Moral of the story: be a compassionate fucking person.

[cubeofanhilation]

How I think dpxdc would go

The whole gang graduated high school, and one of them got an invite to Wayne gala (idk which yet) and they decide to make a whole trip out of it. So they all decide to sight see in the second most fucked up city, attempts to get her hands on fear toxin, Tucker tries to track down Oracle, Danny ends up accedentily fight crime,

Danny: *finishing up with some random mugging, and see’s Jason* yo why tf you dead

Jason, taken aback by the comment: *shoots him in the kneecap, and it goes right through Danny*

Danny: …

Jason: …

Danny: I'm going to take this as my que to leave *yeets outta there*

Jason: wtf

and Wes?He takes this as a fucking challenge, he tries to figure out who the batfamily is, so he purposely gets himself kidnapped so he can get a better look, and he immediately figures everything out, (they're bad at hiding it, and Wes is batshit insane, we love him for that). He meets Bernard around then, probably fresh out of kiddnapping (see previous post) Then they head to Wes’s uncle's house, and everyone

sees the E. Nygma on the mailbox and then Wes then casually reveals The Riddler is his uncle, and he's married to the penguin and everyones like “wow that explains a lot” then they end up playing some stupid game like clue or something, until it turns out the Quinnzels were coming for dinner. That includes, Harley Quinn Poison Ivy, Bud & Lou, and Tempest (long story as to why they're there, can elaborate if anyone's interested) Wes then proceeds to tell everyone he figured out all the bat identities (previously telling his friends, Danny first because he's in love), and the Riddler and the penguin start feeling awkward because now they're the only ones who don't know who batman is.

Then it's the next day, Tucker and Sam check out the sketchiest places because, it's fun, and surprises everyone (maybe including some of the batfamily) with how prepared they are to deal with this shit.

Danny and Wes go on a date because they're adorable. They end up getting lunch, then going out and stalking two-face, because Danny hates evil, and Wes doesn't trust politician. They easily stop him from robbing a bank or whatever, and th n the batfamily shows up and Wes is like “nope! Not being interrogated again!” Picks up Danny bridal style and runs away

Then comes the gala, first off

Babs: how would you know that I'm Oracle?

Tucker: my best friend is a mad lad, anyways-

*Cut to Wes hovering over Tim like “I k n o w w h a t y o u a r e!”*

Chaos breaks, shenanigans ensue, by the end the ghost gang ends up in the bat cave and they clear everything up, and maybe start an alliance, also Danny is like “dude the ectoplasm that resurrected you is not completely out of you're system in a healthy way yet! You gotta do something” and throws supplements at Jason.

[cowboyheyxu]

modern!au

"you know, after i watched paddington, i'm fully convinced animals can talk. you know⎯like in toy story. but they're hiding it from us," you rambled, tapping your finger on your chin like you were in deep thought.

alhaitham flipped over on his stomach, shoving his face into his pillow, "please, go to sleep." his voice is muffled as he pleads, which prompts you to go on.

"and another thing," you continue, "does a straw have two holes? or just one? but there has to be two, right? since there are two holes in a straw."

alhaitham turns around, laying on his side as he listens to you, "you do realize you just answered your own question, right?" he mocks you.

you roll your eyes in return, threading your hands through his hair and ruffling it as revenge. you pretend not to hear him sigh out of content, "yeah. but like⎯if it has two holes, why do we only drink out of one?"

this time, alhaitham does not sigh. he groans, "it's getting too late for these kinds of questions."

you raise your eyebrows, a grin slowly appearing on your face, "oh? so i've finally frustrated the curiosity out of you,'" your sentence turned into laughter at the end.

"you have not," alhaitham countered.

"i think i have," you brush your thumb over alhaitham's eyebrow. he held your hand over his eyebrow and rubbed his thumb over it. he takes your silence as a sign that you are succumbing to exhaustion and you are finally about to fall asleep. but he was wrong.

"i just have one more question," you blurted out.

"only one?" he looked up at you with sleepy eyes. the sight made you want to giggle. alhaitham looks vulnerable. he looks adorable, you think.

"only one," you reaffirm, and rub your thumb across his eyebrow once more, "do you think we're together in every universe?"

the question caught him off guard. you never asked questions like these. most of the time, your questions range from shower thoughts to absurdities. but something seemed more intimate about this one.

alhaitham does not know if you two would be together in every universe. the universe is vast and unpredictable. there are endless possibilities and endless outcomes. it would be impossible for you two to be together in every universe.

that being said, he hopes that you two are together in most of them. alhaitham⎯though he holds disdain at your questions⎯could not imagine a life without them. he simply could not think of a world where he doesn't listen to the sound of your voice every night. he could not visualize a world where he wouldn't be a recipient of your love and your warmth.

to envision a world without you in it is like envisioning a world without it's sun. the world would be shrouded in darkness, without a single bit of light. there would be no warmth, and everything would have froze to death and died.

he looks at you while he thinks about his answer. if he had to wake up every day, and your face wasn't the first thing he saw, alhaitham knew he'd be miserable. he spends at least ten minutes of his morning admiring you. without you, what would he do?

there would be no one to brush his teeth with. there would be no one to eat dinner with. there would be no one to talk to in the middle of the night. life truly seems empty there. he pities all the other alhaithams in the vast universe that have to live without you. it must be horrific, living like that.

so, he makes sure to make this universe count.

"c'mere," he pulls you down to lay with him. you're on your side now as alhaitham pulls you closer, "i'll tell you my answer."

your eyes perk up, having been anticipating his answer the past few minutes. would he disagree or agree? does he think you two would last over different dimensions?

"really? because i think that we'll⎯" alhaitham cuts you off by placing his hand on your jawline and pressing his lips onto yours. it's slow, soft, and quite sensual. his other hand travels down to your hip, slowly rubbing circles on the bone as he continues to kiss you. you don't seem to mind or pull away, as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.

your legs are intertwined with alhaitham's as you pull away. suddenly, you feel a lot tired than you did a few minutes ago. was this alhaitham's plan all along? did he just try to kiss you into exhaustion? whatever just happened, it would not work. you will get your answer.

you lean on his chest for one minute, and then you fall asleep.

alhaitham didn't intend for that to happen. it was just a small bonus. what he really wanted to do, was to appreciate what he had in front of him. to not take you for granted. he considers how lucky he is: he is here, in bed with you, and he gets to listen to you ramble. he is privileged enough to hear the sound of your voice, your laughter, your thoughts. he just wanted to show that off.

but now, you're entangled in his limbs, dozing off peacefully as you relax into his chest. you'll harass him more about his answer later, but for now, he only mumbles it to you.

"i hope we are together in every universe."

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

What Satan was doing what could kindly be called kissing, but it was more like he was trying to devour you. You told him you wanted to try taking things further and he was the happiest demon alive. After he broke the kiss and took off his shirt he looked at you and saw how stiff and uncomfortable you look. Confusion and worry struck him that moment. Where you fine? Did he go too far? He liked being rough and seing you in pain, but only if you were into that as well. He would never willing hurt you if you want it. When he checks with you, you tell him to continue, but the quiver in your voice told him everything he needed to know. You finally tell him the truth and he laughs. Cuddles with you on the bed and calms down your worries. He loves you even if you don't feel comfortable with sex now... or ever. Sex isn't the most important part of a relationship, at least to him.

[faeriecinna]

I have been WRESTLING with writers block this past week. I mean, I must have stared blankly at my damn laptop screen for like 24 hours combined and wrote about 6 words. Today I thought "fuck it" and decided to try writing with pen and paper again like I'm sat at the back of my highschool geography class co-writing fanfic with my sister and I just WROTE THE WHOLE ASS CHAPTER THATS BEEN BOTHERING ME THIS ENTIRE TIME?????

Science side of Tumblr explain this sorcery

[nebula-remnants]

I forgot to show u guys whoopsies

Anyways BOO moon wip

[tightjeansjavi]

please preemptively block and report @penvisions-dupe

They are actively targeting and harassing @penvisions and ‘criticizing’ her fics. It’s one thing to not like something you read, but to leave blatantly hateful comments on something that a writer worked so hard on is diabolical behavior. No one deserves to have their writing be picked apart so viciously. Just because the fic is public, does not warrant ANYONE to act this way. This shit has got to stop.

“Because I can.”

Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.