#I can't be the only person who likes to write that

[ao3commentoftheday]

I'm over 350k words into writing a very long fic that's about halfway done, and lately, I feel like quitting. I've considered posting the outline as a final chapter to give people closure and then just walking away from it.

But I also really want to be able to actually finish it because the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it.

I feel trapped between not wanting to work on it anymore and wanting to finish this story that I've already poured so much time and love into. I want to finish it as much as I want to quit. But the idea of going on is almost agonizing.

Part of why I've been wanting to quit is because my health went downhill about 8 months into working on it, and it has only got worse since then, and that makes chapters take a long time to finish. I'm very slow to update and it makes me feel bad for the readers who are waiting for more. It's not like that many people are waiting, there isn't too much pressure in that sense. It's a rarepair and the fandom isn't as active as it used to be. But there are some people who are excited to know what happens next, and I feel like I'm letting them down by taking so long. I'd probably let them down even more if I didn't write the rest of it, though.

Another reason I've been wanting to quit is that I've been working on this fic for a few years already and it's going to take a few more years to finish, and that is overwhelming. I'm exhausted from such a long commitment to something creative. I've never spent longer than 6 months on a fic before and didn't think this one was going to take so long.

The final reason is that my writing style has changed in small ways over the course of working on the fic and I feel like older chapters are not as good as the newer chapters and I'm sort of losing confidence in myself. I don't enjoy reading my old fics because all I see are the things I'd change, and I feel like that's starting to happen with this fic.

This is supposed to be fun and I'm not having fun right now.

I don't know what to do.

Do you have any advice?

*hugs* the first thing I want you to do, anon, is take a deep breath. hold it. let it out.

It's going to be okay. ❤️

You've got a lot of different emotions going on right now and a lot of different reasons for feeling them. You need to stop trying to push them away and "get on with things" because that's just like shoving your mess into the closet. Eventually that door isn't going to shut anymore.

You also need to take care of yourself before you worry about your readers. They'll still be there later. New ones might come by in the meantime. If you're putting your readers' presumed wants and needs ahead of your own, you'll eventually start to feel resentful towards them for "forcing" you to do something you don't want to (or just can't) do right now.

First and foremost, I think you need a break. You're exhausted and you're pressuring yourself to do more than you're capable of. The way you describe things, it sounds like you're pretty burnt out and in need of some recovery time. Berating yourself and forcing yourself and pushing yourself so hard is only going to make it all worse.

You know that old Snickers commercial where the person turns into an ogre or something and their friend gives them a chocolate bar? The tag line is something like "You're not you when you're hungry." Well, you're also not you when you're exhausted. Your brain is currently a toddler in need of a nap, and if it doesn't get that nap then it's just going to have a tantrum and ruin your whole day.

Take a moment and think of this story that you're writing. Why do you want to finish it? Is it because the readers are excited for it? Is it because you've put a lot of work into it already? Is it because you've already spent a lot of time on it?

All of those things might be true, but you said the most important part yourself, right up front, "the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it."

It's not about the readers, and it's not about the effort, and it's not about the time. It's about the story. That's the important thing. And if that's the important thing, then you can write it at your own pace. You can enjoy the writing process of it. You can spend your time imagining scenes that might or might not make it into the final version.

Writing fic is a hobby, and like you said it's meant to be fun. Take it off of your list of responsibilities and put it onto your list of daydreams instead. The only person you're accountable to with this story is yourself. The next time you catch yourself thinking, "I have to-" or "I should-" when you're thinking about this story, stop and recognize that thought. Where is it coming from? Why are you having it? Is it actually true or do you just feel like it is?

Then take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. This story is for you first. Take your time with it.

[alexiroflife]

"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets. 

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness. 

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech. 

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life. 

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment. 

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth. 

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed. 

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you. 

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet. 

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead. 

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head. 

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling. 

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat. 

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise. 

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move. 

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it. 

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill. 

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry. 

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper. 

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing. 

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest. 

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon  witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him. 

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek. 

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love. 

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hi, would you write something about Nat or Yn being a cop and the other is a criminal and always try to get arrested.

Since the first time the felt something and thats why they wanted to get arrested and spend time with the other person, and if you want to write smut, the cop wanted to interrogate the other one without cameras and well, you know hahaha

Police Officer!Natasha Romanoff x criminal!fem!reader

Summary: You'll do anything to get to see her, even commit petty crimes

Word Count: 907

Warnings: Mentions of petty crimes, mostly just these two pinning for each other

A/N: I could only see Nat as a cop for this. There was no way it was gonna be the other way

Natasha Romanoff leaned back in her chair at the police station, reviewing the day's reports. She rubbed her temples, the fatigue of a long shift setting in. Just as she was about to call it a night, her phone buzzed with a message from a fellow officer.

"Got a familiar face in holding. Thought you'd want to know."

Natasha's heart skipped a beat as she read the message. She knew exactly who it was. You. The notorious small-time thief who seemed to have a knack for getting caught whenever Natasha was on duty. She couldn't deny the strange pull she felt whenever you were around.

With a resigned sigh, Natasha stood up and made her way to the holding cells. As she approached, she saw you sitting on the bench, looking almost...expectant. You glanced up as she entered, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"Officer Romanoff," you greeted, your tone light and teasing. "Fancy meeting you here."

Natasha crossed her arms, trying to maintain her stern facade. "Y/N. What is it this time? Shoplifting? Trespassing?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "A little bit of both, actually. I guess I'm just not very good at this whole 'crime' thing."

She raised an eyebrow, studying you. "Or maybe you're just looking to get caught."

You met her gaze, your smile softening. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like spending time with a certain cop."

Natasha felt a flush creep up her neck, but she quickly masked it with a stern look. "You know, Y/N, there are easier ways to get my attention."

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. "But where's the fun in that? Besides, I think you like the chase."

Natasha couldn't help but smile at that. There was a spark between you, an undeniable chemistry that she found hard to ignore. "You know, this can't keep happening. Sooner or later, you're going to end up with more than just a night in a holding cell."

You stood up and approached the bars, your eyes locked on hers. "Maybe. But for now, I don't mind. As long as I get to see you."

Natasha shook her head, a mix of frustration and amusement in her expression. "You're impossible."

"And you're the best part of getting caught," you replied softly.

Natasha sighed, unlocking the cell door. "Come on, let's get you processed. Again."

As she led you down the hall, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Being with Natasha, even in these circumstances, made everything else worth it. And Natasha, despite her stern exterior, couldn't deny the small thrill she felt every time you were around.

Maybe this was unconventional. Maybe it was risky. But for now, it was enough. And in the quiet moments between arrests and interrogations, both of you found something that made the chaos of your lives just a little bit brighter.

Natasha unlocked the cell door, her grip firm on your arm as she led you inside. You could feel the tension between you, the unspoken feelings simmering just below the surface. As she turned to leave, you couldn't help but act on impulse.

"Natasha, wait," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She paused, turning back to face you, her eyes searching yours. "What is it, Y/N?"

Without thinking, you stepped closer, closing the distance between you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at her, and before she could react, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.

For a moment, Natasha was still, caught off guard by your bold move. But then she responded, her lips moving against yours with a fierce intensity. Her hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss, her dominance unmistakable.

You melted into her embrace, feeling the power and control she exuded. Natasha's kiss was overwhelming, consuming you entirely. She pushed you back against the cell bars, her body pressing against yours as she took control of the situation.

Her hands moved to your wrists, pinning them above your head with a strength that made you gasp. Natasha broke the kiss, her breath hot against your lips as she looked down at you, her eyes dark with desire.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Y/N," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

You couldn't help but smile, even as your heart raced. "Maybe I like living on the edge."

Natasha's lips curved into a smirk as she leaned in, her mouth brushing against your ear. "Just remember, I'm the one in control here."

With that, she kissed you again, her lips claiming yours with a possessive hunger. You surrendered to her, letting her take what she wanted. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the cell, not the arrest, not the risks. All that existed was the fiery connection between you and Natasha.

Finally, Natasha pulled back, her breathing heavy as she looked at you with a mixture of frustration and longing. "You make things complicated," she said, her voice softening slightly.

You smiled, your eyes locked on hers. "And you make things worth it."

Natasha shook her head, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Stay out of trouble, Y/N. For both our sakes."

She released your wrists, stepping back and regaining her composure. As she left the cell, you watched her go, a sense of satisfaction warming you. The line between law and desire had blurred, and for now, that was enough.

[anistarrose]

Hey. Psst. Person who comments things like "please update" on unfinished fics. As an AO3 author with a couple of works on indefinite hiatus, I'm gonna teach you the secret to maximize your odds of that author writing more of your beloved story. And it only takes two simple steps! Are you ready?

Stop commenting "please update" and similar things on incomplete fics.

Leave a comment about something you enjoyed in the fic. Anything. If you liked it enough to reread previous chapters, let the author know that too.

Why does this work? Well, if you tell us you liked the fic, we can infer that you would be excited to read more. We can draw that conclusion pretty effortlessly — we're usually fic readers too, so like, we get it.

On the other hand, if you comment just to ask/beg for an update? You are much more likely to leave a bad taste in our mouths. Your comment may be intended to be polite, but it does not exist in a vacuum.

If you're commenting "when will you update I'm desperate" on a fic with a lot of traction, the author has no doubt gotten dozens of similar comments, and is absolutely exhausted by them. But if you're commenting "please please please don't abandon this" on a fic with a tiny audience, that might be one of the only comments the author receives. Do either of those sound pleasant? Being flooded with demands for more content, or to have the only response to your creation be about the fact that it's incomplete, instead of about all the love you clearly put into it?

I can't speak for all authors. But I've had works fall into both these categories, and to me, both suck. I've gotten "update plz" comments while fighting for my life to get through college while chronically ill. I've gotten "I hope you keep writing this" comments from people who didn't even leave kudos, on fics that were explicitly labeled as "bonus scenes" for a separate and stand-alone, fully complete work.

Do I want to shoot a rude reply to any of these comments directly? I'd rather not, because I'm sure at least some of them are trying to express that they liked my writing, no matter how bad of a job they're doing. But the fact stands:

It's not fun, or motivating, or going to draw me back into an old hyperfixation, when the majority of comments I get are appreciating me only for content. That's just isolating. The comments that make me want to come back to old projects are ones that provide a chance for dialogue — even as simple as "I'm so glad you enjoyed!" — and make me feel appreciated as a part of a community.

That's it. Content versus community. Just comment in a way that shapes your interactions with creatives and fan spaces to be more about the latter.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Demon Children Are Multiplying

This idea is still stuck in my head, and I might even end up writing something out of it, but for now, I just thought of something equally really, really stupid and really, really funny.

What if I combine that idea with Al Ghul Twins. I don't know how. Maybe Talia was cautious about Ra's not wanting to keep two kids for a position of Heir, or maybe she staged Danny's death, or maybe something else entirely happened. But anyway, Danny is Damian's twin.

Then, Dani is the same age as Danny in this AU. And Dan is de-aged to be the same age as both of them.

Now behold an absolute train wreck of a situation where Bruce attends a Gala hosted by Vladimir Masters. Together with Damian, of course, and maybe other batkids are there too. They all part their ways to make their rounds or whatnot. And they all keep seeing Damian wherever they go. Just everywhere.

Dick is talking to someone, and Damian walks past him, not paying him any attention. Which is not surprising, but a little rude, and, wait, wasn't he wearing a red tie? When did he change it to green one?

Tim is just going on the top floor to greet a lady he recognizes from some other event, and Damian all but storms in the opposite direction, only letting Tim catch a glimpse of his face. But when Tim turns around, he is really confused: the person running down the stairs is clearly a girl, albeit she is wearing a suit. Her long hair is up in a complicated braid. Why did he even mistake her for Damian?

But the ultimate confusion happens when Bruce is talking to Vladimir Masters, and a very familiar voice calls, "Father". Because both he and Vladimir turn to face the boy and ask, "Yes?" at the same time.

Damian is standing there, looking between Bruce and Vlad. He looks a little off somehow, but before Bruce can figure out why, the boy blinks and focuses on Vlad.

"We've been looking for you," he tells the man, and, wait, when was Damian looking for Masters? Furthermore, who is we?

But then another child comes closer. And-

That's Damian.

That's two Damians.

Wait, no, none of them are Damians.

"What is it?" Vladimir raises an eyebrow, not paying too much attention to Bruce's blanched expression.

A third child comes towards them, and this one also looks like Damian, only this one is a girl.

"Template's duplicate is here," she says, and Vlad frowns, turning to the Damian lookalike in the middle.

"Have you had another incident that I don't know of?"

Whatever answer the boy wanted to give is cut off by a n o t h e r child who looks like- no, this is real Damian, thank God, Bruce had started to wonder if the champagne was spiked with hallucinogens.

"Father-" he stops in his tracks as the three other children turn to him, and the four of them just stare at each other for a long moment. Then the one in the middle takes a sharp breath in and stage-whispers:

"Quick, do the meme!"

And all three not-Damians start pointing at each other.

Bruce is going to have an aneurysm. Judging by Vladimir's face, he is also not far from one.

Just my ramblings under the cut

I think you all know what meme I'm talking about, but I'm still gonna add it

This is so fucking hilarious to me, I'm sorry, I just can't

Danny is not missing this opportunity of a lifetime, even though Vlad specifically asked all three of them not to cause a scene. And yes, they all call Vlad "father" just for the spite of it or for shits and giggles. I'm going with Bad Fentons idea here, although I'm not sure to which degree they are bad, but anyway, Vlad is their legal guardian, and he is redeemed.

Yes, Dick took a picture. Yes, it's already in the group chat. Yes, other batkids are going wild.

Damian is greatly confused because, first, he thought there was a clone of him at the gala, but apparently, there were three of them, and second, why are they pointing at each other? Should he join them? He is under the assumption his brother is dead (he's not exactly wrong on that account), or he doesn't even know he existed.

This is as far as I got now, feel free to add anything!

[slowlysoluminary]

Reset AU ... mirror room art piece and a supplemental from ghostloop's pov 🎉

Writing under the cut! (Lots of words... oops!!!!!!!)

(Venturing through the house has been nothing short of a terror.)

(The sadnesses littering the area are NOT helping!)

(Granted, you know how to fight - you have each sadness' type memorized, each name and gimmick on lock - but your craft...)

(You're not sure what Craft type you are. You're corporeal enough for your hits to connect, but not corporeal enough for attacks to land on you. Harder still, considering the craft types are all equally as easy for you to summon.)

(Maybe "easy for you to summon" is poor phrasing. Your attacks feel wrong. Unfamiliar.)

(Your Piercing Craft likes to trail, not unlike the rest of your body. You struggle the least with Scissors-type attacks, but it feels like something fundamental is missing in each of your strikes.)

(Your Creative Craft leaves after-images. You thought you were Paper craft for a good while, but you're clumsy with it - like it wasn't made with your body in mind.)

(Your Protector's Craft sparks like energy through your fist. Something pangs at your chest each time you form the handshape.)

(Your attacks are strange. Craft personalizes itself to its user, but for such attuned craft to be so alien....)

(Thinking about it gives you a weird headache.)

(So you won't!!)

(You watch Siffrin fight. He made you sit out of battle after that time you downed yourself. Impeccable aim, Loop!!)

(... They never win, but you figure you should respect their wishes regardless.)

(You feel Experienced. Like these sadnesses would wither away if you poked them too hard. They probably would, if you could land a hit in the first place!)

(You can't help but compare the way he fights with the way you fight. Or, the way you think you should.)

(Like his name, like the House, like everything else, it's all familiar. You fight the same way as him, but your craft makes it difficult to do so comfortably.)

(You can't help but be envious. Why are you envious?)

(The style isn't even yours! You're pretty sure it's adapted from his, even!!)

(Nothing is your own. Not even your body is safe!!! Your skin prickles when you look down. Stars dance across your form naturally, yet it feels unnatural all the same.)

(Stars, are you going crazy? You think you're going crazy!)

(Siffrin shifts next to you, walking comfortably in your silence. You lead the way to the next door.)

("Why Stardust?" They asked you that, before. At least, you think they did? What did you respond with? Something about what's left...?)

(... You don't know. Just, seeing him, talking to him - he's Stardust! So, you must be Loop.)

(It found you so easily in your sea of muddled memories. It must be what the Universe willed!)

(But you still don't know. But you still can't remember. What's wrong with you?)

"Finally, third floor..."

(Siffrin turns a key. You're climbing the House. Right.)

(You smile. Is it forced? You're not sure. The gesture reminds you of something.)

>"Awh, good job, Stardust! It only took you... ehm...."

>"20 Loops! That's great! A bit worse than me, but who's keeping track, right?"

"'A bit worse than you?' Did you remember something?"

("A bit worse than you?")

>"What? I didn't say anything."

(You didn't. Did you?)

(Siffrin makes a noise. They're looking at you funny.)

"Nevermind."

(O~kay. Weird.)

...

(The King sobs.)

(They talk to you about him. A lot more than you want them to, if you're being honest.)

(Hearing his name, his likeness, to be spoken of so fondly - you feel rage. A deep and primal anger you're sure you've never felt before and will never feel again.)

(So, yes! Hearing the King sob the whole time like he's not actively dooming an entire blinding country has done wonders on your psyche! The reminder of his existence fills you with such joy and whimsy!)

(Your smile is pulled so taut you think it would tear at your skin, if you had any.)

(Siffrin's expression is plagued with sympathy. Something in your core stirs violently at the thought.)

>"Chin up, soldier~! One more floor to climb!"

(The sympathetic look fades, but you don't feel any better. You don't think about the implications.)

"... Right. One more floor."

>"I hope all this effort was worth it!"

"Ditto. Even if I can't snap some sense into him, I just..."

"I want to talk. I've told you about it before, but-"

(stop don't talk about him no no no no)

>"STARdust! Surely there's no need to go over everything again!"

>"You might be forgetful, but helpful Loop here already knows the ins and outs of your fool-proof plan~!!"

>"You've told me about it, you continue to tell me about it, you don't stop telling me about it — I GET IT ALREADY!"

>"Just. We'll. We'll get to it when we get to it, right? Please."

(you're not sure why)

(but the thought of talking to the king fills your entire being with sickness)

(Too bad you can't throw up! Teehee!!)

(Siffrin looks pained.)

"Right, I'll just -- I'm."

"I'm sorry..."

(Oh.)

(His voice is so tender. So quiet.)

(You ruined it.)

(That's fine. You don't -- you don't need the ability anyway. You can make your way through the house on your own. You don't need them to get stronger. It's fine.)

(...)

(What were you thinking about? It doesn't matter.)

>"So~! That out of the way."

(This time you ignore the King wailing above you.)

>"Where do we go?"

(His face is hidden from you, beneath the brim of his hat. You have a fun time thinking about the expression under it!)

(Is it twisted in frustration? Appalled? Mortified? Betrayed?)

(You know those faces like the back of your hand, but the specifics amalgam in your head, a foggy mass of uncertainty.)

(You feel a tingle on your cheek.)

(... Yes, fun! What fun!)

(Siffrin clears their throat.)

"... You've been leading me through most of the House, Loop."

"So I thought you would know where to go?"

(You have?)

>"I have?"

"Yes?????"

(What????)

>"No I haven't."

"Yes? You have??"

(He looks offended???)

"The rock trap? The key I missed in the Head Housemaiden's office?"

>"'Fraid you're not ringing any bells!!"

(Conversations are one of the only things you remember. Everything else blends together.)

(So, you should know this, shouldn't you? They must've brought it up a few times while you were walking. You weren't thinking too hard about where you were going. The paths feel wholly natural to you... But you do remember that the amount of times you had to give Siffrin a Super Sour Tonic was atrocious, really.)

(How does anyone lose to sadnesses THAT often? It's ridiculous! He should just let you fight!!!)

"Loop?"

(Whoops!!! You should pay more attention to your surroundings...)

(...)

(No, okay, wait.)

>"When did we get to the mirror room?"

(The glare Siffrin gives you bears the striking image of absolute incredulocity.)

(That's not a word. Whatever!!! You can make up new words if you so please!!)

"You're kidding."

>"Completely serious question, Stardust!"

"...'Stardust, I am the epitome of good memory...'"

(HE'S MOCKING YOU!!)

>"I am! I swear it on my mother!"

"Stars have mothers?"

(You shrug before remembering to raise a gloved hand to your mouth.)

>"I don't know!"

>"But I'm sure, if I had one, she'd be especially bright."

(An eyeroll.)

(They don't laugh.)

(Why does that bother you?)

(Eh, probably because that one was funny! No fair!)

>"You're no fun, Stardust..."

"Okay."

>"Whatever! I'll find a pun buddy somewhere else!!"

"And where would you go? Vaugarde's frozen in time."

("And you're practically a ghost," is what goes unsaid.)

(...mmm. No, it's fine.)

>"I'll write to them! We'll be pen pals!"

>"Or I guess we'd be pun pals, ehe."

(They snort. Mission success!!!)

"Not funny."

>"Oh, come on! You laughed!! That means I won the bet!"

"The bet was about laughing at your jokes. Puns don't count."

(Bummer! You pout.)

"Real talk. Any particular reason for bringing us here? I trust you, but..."

"... The only thing in here is that mirror."

(They point to the large mirror at the end of the corridor. You nod. There is a mirror, and nothing else.)

>"Indeed so."

"And you called it the mirror room?"

(Did you?)

>"No I didn't."

"I'm not arguing with you again..."

(Aren't they doing that already?)

"Just answer the question."

>"I wasn't aware I was being interrogated! I need a lawyer!!!"

"Loop."

>"Fine! I-... Um."

>"I."

>"I'm not ... quite sure?"

"You're not sure."

>"Nope!"

(They sigh.)

"So you led us here... for no particular reason?"

>"Exactly!"

>"Well. No, I'm sure there's some reason we're here."

>"I feel like there's something else in this room, you know?"

>"But! As far as I'm aware!! There is nothing in here!!! Save for that dazzling old mirror!!!!"

"Right."

(He doesn't believe you.)

"... Let's look around, then?"

>"Sounds good to me."

(You look around.)

(Okay, you don't actually do anything. Siffrin's going at it, though!)

(He checks the pillars. And the corners. And the bricks. And the pillars again.)

(It's... really boring.)

(It's better than the Other Thing you could be doing. The Elephant In The Room. The Big Mirror In The Corridor-Room. That.)

(Hm. Hmmmmmmm.)

(You weigh your options.)

(Boredom. Or headache. Boriiing borreeedooom...... or excruciating headache.)

(Or answers? You don't know the mirror's deal! You could get something meaningful out of this!)

(Or you could get a headache.)

(Or you could lean against a pillar, bored, for the rest of eternity, waiting to be Done and Over With This.)

(...)

(You've been pointedly ignoring the existence of the mirror for quite the while now.)

(Something goads you. A whisper.)

(You follow. Siffrin watches you, curious.)

(You don't... You don't really want to look.)

(Just looking down spikes something uncomfortable under your skin.)

(So you're not sure what to expect, if you were to look in your reflection.)

(Whispers turn to spoken tongue turn to yelling turn to screaming as you approach the glass. Yet, no matter how loud they get, how heartfelt they screech, you can't make out the words.)

(Something in you hurts as you stand in front of the glass.)

(You take a breath)

(in, and out.)

(And you look up.)

(and all at once)

(everything goes quiet)

(...)

(You gaze at your reflection)

(You gaze at a star.)

(is this you?)

(you wave your hand)

(it waves back.)

(You frown. It frowns too.)

(Stars. All up its body.)

(More than you could dream of, could you still dream in the first place.)

(Flame-like spikes flicker freely from its head, immitating hair.)

(Imitating life.)

(You're looking at a ghost.)

(you're a ghost?)

(The screaming returns. You flinch back in surprise. The ghost does not flinch with you.)

(LOOP, it screams. LOOP, LOOP, LOOP, LOOP !!!)

(Its head morphs. It's something spikier, now. It's something right.)

(your head hurts)

(The ghost snickers at you. You look at it.)

(You look at it)

(it's)

(it's)

(loop)

(you look at loop)

(LOOP, the screaming chants, in agreement. LOOP!)

(someone is shaking you?)

(this is loop)

(but you're loop?)

(are you loop?)

(The screaming rises. You didn't think it could get any louder. You cover your ears and cower. It doesn't do anything)

(loop laughs at you.)

(you forgot)

(of course you forgot! you always forget! forgetful little siffrin! sieve brain siffrin)

(you stole their role. in the play)

(you stole them)

(you)

"LOOP!"

(You blink)

(You is in front of you. Your back is leaning against cool glass.)

(if your back is to the mirror)

(how are you looking in your reflection?)

(The you in front of you sighs.)

"You were out cold there... What happened, Loop?"

(you wait for them to respond)

("Nothing, Stardust!! You should go help out your little entourage! Or, you know, you could do something more productive? Like talk to the Head Housemaiden?")

(that's what you think they would say)

(you feel a shiver)

"... I'm not... part of a party...? Oh, no, nevermind. I get it."

(your reflection releases you. you slump to the ground.

(you pull your hands up to your head)

(and stop)

(your arms)

(your arms..)

"Loop."

>"... Loop?"

(Oh!)

>"Yes! I am Loop."

(Siffrin gives you That Look again.)

"What was all that?"

(All that?)

>"I'm not sure what you're talking about!"

"It was like you... um..."

"Forgot your name. Or something."

(Forgot your name? Scandalous!! You'd never forget such a thing!)

>"Nope, all good!"

>"I just... hm. Thought you were talking to someone else there, for a second?"

>"But I'm fine now!"

"If you say so."

(He doesn't take your word for this, either.)

(Oh well!)

(You bend down and flip the switch, extra careful not to look at the mirror. Or the photo that materializes in front of it.)

"How did you-?"

(They try to ask, but you're already moving for the key.)

(Loop.)

(That's you!)

(So why does that name remind you of someone else?)

[spaceorphan18]

Because I have more feelings I need to express...

One of the aspects I love LOVE about Penelope and Colin is not only that they have a shared love of writing, but writing is an integral part of their romance. It's another way they connect, and it's, arguably, one of the reasons they fell in love with each other.

I have to wonder - who wrote who first? What prompted Colin to start writing Penelope along with his family while he was in Greece? Clearly, she was already like a part of the family -- I'm sure she and Eloise were inseparable from the time they were children. She was always there - always around - always seeing him. So did he write her as he did the rest of his family?

Or did Penelope start writing him? She would be bold enough and already in love enough to do it. Especially after Eloise (and the rest of the Bridgertons) grew bored of his letters.

Think of the correspondence they had over that summer and how intimately you can be with letters - because they're a private thing, between you and one other person. Think of the fact that it's a way they could both be themselves in a world where neither of them really feel like they're being seen, or taken seriously. Think of all the in jokes and adventures they share and how they both look forward to receiving a letter from the other. The spring in their step after they see the letter has arrived.

Think about how they connect with each other through the medium they're most passionate about!

It's no wonder Penelope didn't bonk him on the nose after he got back and claims the person he discovered was himself over her...

I'm sure if an outsider read those letters, they may not contain flowery language, but the love they have for one another would already be there.

But then think about the next year... When Colin is traveling Europe, and despite all of the new experiences he's having, it's still important that he tells her all about it. And how lonely it is when he doesn't hear back from her. Meanwhile, every time Penelope receives one of those letters it's like a little dagger in her heart. I wonder if she even read them, or if she put them all in a chest and lock it up tight so she wouldn't face it.

And I love that when Colin goes back to reread all of her letters again, not only is he discovering how Lady Whistledown is a part of her, but he's falling in love with her all over again. Eloise was right when she said that until he understands that she is LW, he can't possibly fully love her. But maybe more so, can't fully understand that he was already fully in love with her.

God, and there's so much more to the writing aspect -- how each of them uses writing as expression. How Pen sharing LW is ultimately as intimate as Colin sharing his journal. The fact that who they are is tied up in writing, and how there is somewhat of a jealousy and insecurity coming from Colin when it comes to the LW reveal, because she is already successful at the one thing he feels good at. The fact that, though, after they work through that they'll indulge in supporting each other's writing.

The writing aspect is just... so romantic to me (says the writer herself). And I love the idea that - not only will they continue to support each other's individual writing pursuits but I can only imagine the kind of correspondence they'll have when they're apart. Their letters will continue to be a way for them to not only express how they feel about each other, but will be a comfort to them when there is distance between them.

I probably could write a novel (ha!) on this subject, but time eludes me. Ug, though - just... love expressed in writing and used as connection. It gets me.

[olderthannetfic]

its kinda hilarious to be honest that saying "because of the rampant bigotry in harry potter, and because of j k rowling's extremely pubic behavior, and the fact that she spends any money she gets from harry potter, which includes library purchases, official merch, etc, on material harm, i can not think of the fans as safe people to interact with" is something thats a controversial opinion.

its not even a "this thing is gross, evil, and should not exist" thing its a "you realize she uses any money she gets from this, which she will continue to make tons of money from this as long as it remains culturally relavent, to actually harm a marginalized minority she has decided to hold a personal vendetta against until the end of time".

if she were dead and the money wasn't going to hurting a group of people who can't actually defend themselves against a whole entire billionaire, i don't think the people squicked out by harry potter fans would care so much.

and the people squicked out haven't actually put out calls to harass them or anything, more just saying things like "i'm going to block you for my own safety, because you're not safe to me"

they aren't pulling anti shit. they're calling the fandom a personal red flag, who they choose to avoid.

pretty telling to be honest, that the reaction to that one account going "yeah no." in regards to not judging harry potter fans got so many people angry at them.

reminds me of why i choose to stay anonymous in fandom spaces.

oh no. someone is uncomfortable your personal comfort media written by a bigot who uses her money to make a very vulnerable minority groups lives hell, and her rhetoric has actually caused deaths! better block the person and write a bunch of stuff talking about how thats anti behavior so i don't have to think about the fact that i help rowling maintain cultural relavence, and therefore help her earn money that she uses to hurt people!

pathetic

--

We've had this wank many a time.

Personally, I'm not sympathetic to the fact that it's people's comfort media or unique for them. That just ends up annoying me for how other fandoms could be bigger or more vibrant if some of those HP fans migrated.

However, the reason people are pushing back so much on my tumblr is that we talk a lot here about censorship and media and the bigger picture. JKR is a menace, but HP is so astronomically popular that the fanfic arm of its fandom is essentially meaningless to its overall cultural clout.

I think people should go stan some other author because we could make a book fandom happen and authors able to pay the rent if we cared to put our energy towards somebody smaller. I have this same objection to the forever fandom of SPN and all the people whining about but not leaving MCU fandom. To JKR, we're gnats, but our presence would actually make a difference in some smaller space.

But the kind of ask you've just sent only makes people less willing to let go of HP.

[mochis-cream]

11:34 — song mingi ♡

・ sometimes you wonder what life decisions you’ve made that wound you up by this clowns side, but then again, you wouldn’t trade him for the world

s.mg x gn!reader ・ ateez ・ 에이티즈 ・ sfw ・ non!idol au ・ wc: exactly 600 ・ genre -> fluff, slice of life, slapstick ・ one shot! -> masterlist!

content warning: established relationship, collective sillies, mingi minging, princess mingi realness, cursing, lowercase intended, not proofread

author’s note: guys idk what happened!! one minute i was asleep and then the next i was awake at 3 in the morning writing this 😰😰 anyways mingi mingi mingi i love mingi mmrph (*´∇｀*)

‘CAUTION! DO NOT TOUCH!!’

you were certain that was the warning you gave. you were positive, actually, because you're looking at those words right now, written in your handwriting on a sticky note attached to a prank canister. the same prank canister that currently lies in the doorway, open at your feet, several feet away from the only other person in the room who could've opened it. the same person who currently lies on the floor, covered in confetti and fallen cereal, staring up at you like a deer caught in headlights.

"uh- princess? okay, what the fuck. what happened?" you ask, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. the sight is both tragic and fucking hilarious: mingi, wide-eyed and looking like he’s just survived a cartoonish explosion, is splayed out in a sea of brightly colored paper and cheerios.

mingi looks up at you, still processing the events that led to his current predicament. “i... uh... think i touched something i shouldn’t have,” he says, his voice a mix of embarrassment and lingering shock.

you take a moment to survey the room. the open prank canister lies a few feet away, likely flung from mingi's hands during his moment of panic. “and by that you mean the thing that said ‘caution! do not touch!’ in big, bold letters? the thing with the warning written in my handwriting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he nods sheepishly. “uh yeah, that seems to be the case.”

you can't help it. the laughter bubbles up from deep inside you, and soon you're doubled over, clutching your stomach as you laugh uncontrollably. mingi watches you with a mix of amusement and annoyance, still covered in confetti and cereal, looking like the world's saddest party favor. a tried and true damsel in distress.

finally, you catch your breath and kneel down beside him. “my, princess, you really outdid yourself this time,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. you start picking confetti out of his hair, still chuckling.

mingi huffs, sitting up and trying to shake off some of the cereal clinging to his clothes. “it’s not funny,” he mutters, but as much as he might complain, the corners of his mouth twitching upward speaks for itself.

“ah, yeah, you’re right. it’s absolutely hilarious,” you counter, pulling him to his feet. “why on earth would you touch something that i explicitly wrote ‘do not touch’ on?”

mingi shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “i dunno.”

you shake your head, still grinning. “there’s never a dull moment with you, is there?”

as you both start cleaning up the mess, you can't help but think about how your life with mingi has always been this way, full of surprises left and right. sure, not every surprise is a good one, but such is life. both of you have your own things to work out, and thing are never always perfect, but you wouldn’t trade this relationship for the world. besides, who else would provide such endless entertainment?

it’s funny really, how two completely different people can come to live and share their lives, and in the end create something beautiful despite the messes they make along the way.

as you scoop up handfuls of cereal and confetti, you glance over at mingi, who's trying (and failing) to stuff the prank canister back together, and it finally clicks. a thought that’ll stay with you until the day you die, ‘yeah, this is the goof i’m staying with for the rest of my life.’

truely, you couldn’t possibly be any happier. lucky you, huh?

[merrygay]

The Ghoul's dilemma

Cooper Howard x Vault Dweller! Reader

Warning : NSFW, Dark Themes, reference to cannibalism, afab reader. English is not my first language. I’m bad at writing synopsis. I’m bad at writing in general in fact.

Synopsis : Kill you, claim you or ruin you ? hard to choose.

He looks at your eyes, then your lips, he seems lost in his own thoughts, it wasn't like him to be so troubled, but now the infamous ghoul is fighting with his inner self.

Part of him wants to take you, claim you as his own, forever more, until the pit of hell swallows him whole if it still hadn’t already. 

He was a walking sin, a rotten old man with nothing but impure thoughts along side you, oblivious to everything despite your efforts to adapt to this world ending in failure. 

He could just kill you and be done with all this torment, he could just be the reason for your awaiting death, because it has to be, you should have died a long time ago, you weren’t fit to this world and he wasn’t fit for you.

But despite all of this he decides to spare your life, a selfish decision on his part, but surely you don’t mind do you now ? You don’t really have a choice considering your high percentage of chance being dead out there in the wasteland if you were alone.  

After letting you live, he thought he would sell you to the organ harvester. At least you would be useful to him, he told himself, denying the fact that the only reason he spared your life was because of how possessive he had slowly become of you.

Cooper thinks he has the upper hand, after all, the ghoul holds your life in his palm, but in reality you have him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

He’s still a grumpy old man who’s too proud to admit his obsession infatuation towards you.

And then there’s one night

You pressed your body against him so suddenly, your shirt rode up just enough to reveal the beginning of your breasts, which made him freeze not expecting your sudden movement, you were usually too scared of him to even approach him on a daily basis.  

"I thought I told ya to keep your damn space," he grumbled. But his words trailed off as he noticed your sleeping form, completely unaware. His eyes lingered on your body, frustrated by the shirt that did nothing to help his resolve. Your intoxicating scent was almost too much for him to bear. 

200 years old, he had outlived practically every person he had known, yet he couldn't even keep himself in check because of some naive girl. He cursed himself.

But oh no no, you are not just any naive girl, are you? After all, he had met and killed tons of stupid women, but you? He can't quite pinpoint why he wants needs you. Perhaps it's a primal instinct that keeps growing as you stay beside him. Maybe it’s because he wants to eat you? Was that it? Yes Maybe it is his growing hunger for you.

With just one easy movement, he could easily be on top of you, roaming his hands all over your body, unsullied by the radiation or anything for that matter, just a perfect doll to play with. 

He could just ruin you. Bite you, lick you, taste that delicious body while being inside of you. Taking all the innocence that is left for his own sexual pleasure. Never stopping, pumping you full of his cock. He would be nice enough to wipe away your tears as you can’t help but whimper and moan. 

“Fuck.., yeah I know shh i know darling’, i'm a bad man i’m bad bad man” he would grunt while he spreads your legs wider to give him more access.

“S-sir ?” you say nervously. You were fully awake by now realizing the mistake you made, you rapidly moved away from him. 

Your voice brought him back to reality, he didn’t realize he was fixing you all along. 

“I'm sorry i didn’t do it on purpose” you gulped. He was silent for a second before readjusting his hat while turning his back to you.

“Git back to sleep, ain’t haulin’ ya sleepy ass tomorrow”

He felt his pants tighten, which only fueled his annoyance. He would deal with it later, once you fell back asleep, succumbing to the very same fantasy.

The ghoul had a huge ego, too confident, but right now he was desperate, and you made him like this. 

[a018233]

your blog has like.. no rules so I don't know if I'm branching on smth wrong but uhhh,, do u think ubcould elaborate on nsfw w ithauqa on ur rent-a-gf/bf au... 👁👁

ೀ. summary: Ithaqua is trying to talk you out of the rent-a-girlfriend/boyfriend service once again. So you help take his mind off it for a while.

ೀ. content: handjobs, making out, jealousy, commitment issues, gn reader. reader is kinda a bitch in this one. Ithaqua is mad/upset. He says he hates you but doesn't mean it.

ೀ. a/n: kinda weird this came out before his general headcannons. I don't know anything about ithaqua so.. If anyone has suggestions how to write for ithaqua personality wise uhh comment cause I have three related rqs for him.

As you unbutton his jeans he can't help but sigh. Looking away with a look of jealousy. His envy boils uncomfortably in his stomach and it hangs heavy on his heart. You two aren't an item and yet, he still can't help but feel slightly cheated on.

"Giving me a handjob isn't gonna change my mind, you deserve better. You can always just.. " Ithaqua says, his eyebrows knit together.

"I really don't." You hum as you interrupt him, not even looking at him as you pull his pants and boxers down.

Ithaqua swallows thickly, feeling the cold air hit his tip. Making him hiss. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a small groan comes out as you began to move your hand up and down his length.

"F-Fuck, I mean it. You can live with me and I'll-- shit!!" He curses, using his hand to over his mouth.

Meanwhile, you gave a soft and slow lick along his shaft, all the way up to his tip. Ithaqua was breathing heavily, trying to silence his noises. His mind becoming more hazy the more you messed with him.

"Agh!! Fucking hell! I don't-.. I don't.. understand you.." He hissed, throwing his head back. His legs twitching.

"I don't expect you to." You reply back. Pressing another teasing lick.

"Mhhg.. I hate you.." He winces softly, the lie falling from his lips. Looking down at you as precum begins to form on his tip. You waste no time swirling your tongue around his tip, tasting his essence before engulfing him whole.

Ithaqua let's out breathy moans, mixed of your name and curses. His hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against youe cheek affectionately while you effortlessly bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

The jealousy dies down, but it still boils uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach like an kettle that's about to explode. He feels good right now, and yet his heart feels heavy.

Ithaqua isn't stupid. He knows he's not the only one. He doesn't wanna know who else you do this with. But when you look up at him through your pretty lashes, the resentment and jealousy that bulit up fades away as a more euphoric one takes place. As much as he's yours, your not his. But moments like this, he can pretend you are.

[iwannascreameurekaa]

Percy Jackson fans who refuse to read trials of Apollo kinda piss me off

I've only heard a few reasons on my people don't want to red TOA but most of the reasons are honestly stupid... and bullshit so

! Might have TOA spoilers !

reason one: Lester is annoying

no shit he's Apollo that's his whole character development thing usually when a character starts off bad that means they're going to evolve into a better person that's basic writing

reason two: caleo

valid tbh but really you just gotta Manipulate yourself into believing that Rick was 100% writing them as friends idk

reason three: the one and only Jason Grace scene

did I say spoilers? Cause there's gonna be spoilers here!! So you don't want to read a five book series because one of those books contain the death of a character who you didn't even particularly like until their death? Most of the fanbase disliked or even hated Jason before the burning maze and I see loads of hate towards him today but we're not getting into that rn we're talking about TOA so here's my solution if you don't want to read a characters death scene: don't read any Percy jackson book. There are plenty of people who die during any Riordan book so stop whining about one. If you don't want to read the book that's fine but saying your reason for not reading is because someone dies is stupid. Do I need to name all the people that have died throughought the series?

reason four: Percy's not in the book

It is completely valid if your favorite character is Percy and you want him to show up more but that mf has 5+ books from his pov and is also in multiple other books. He's in four out of five of the hero's of Olympus series he's in the first TOA book he's in Magnus chase too so grow up he's not going to be in every book

I think the only other reason I've seen is that they can't afford to buy the books which is completely valid you're fine

but I think that sums up my little rant

[youropinion-iswrong]

ok i can't keep this inside me for the sake of 'what if i get the inspiration to write a whole fic about this one day' anymore. WHY have i never seen anyone make a forgotten ka bue odile loops au???????

imagine leaving your home country for the sake of discovering the other country that you're descended from but never got the chance to see, to live in, to truly understand. imagine waking up one day and realizing that you can remember everything about that- your mother left when you were a kid, she's from the country you're traveling to, you hate her for robbing you of half your heritage, you want to know if you fit in any better in her country over your other parent's- but you can't recall a thing about where you were raised. about the parent left behind who took care of you. of the culture you actually knew. loosing the half of you you grew up with before reaching the half you longed for. and now all you want is what you left behind.

odile would be more aware of her lost country than canon siffrin is- it's probably a real research topic of hers. what she can remember, what leaves her head as soon as she looks away, what will never come back to her. but is she open about it, or does she keep her origins secret? how much more painful is her search for a familytale? is she the one begging a stranger to tell her where they're from? and of course there's the question of her sasasap/guide self, what their personality and perspective would be.

and beyond odile there's so much to think about in how the rest of the world and people would change. how different is a siffrin who sailed back home, got a lecture from their parents, and only left home when he was older and became a traveller willingly? how well known is wish craft? what's the king (or whoever his replacement is) like- a king with gemstones studded on his armor, not even able to use craft from his own country to freeze vauguarde this time?

just. someone think about the potential of forgotten ka bue with me ok

[bogkeep]

when i was a teen, i was in love with my best friend. to this day i cannot tell you with any certainty whether or not i was in love romantically or platonically. i don't know and i don't care. it's very possible there is a difference, but i never found it. i've asked many people about it and everyone has their own definition of where that line goes, none that ever applied to my own experiences. there is no satisfying, universal and objective line. i think that's good, actually. the idea that there is some shining abstract concept that's specialer than all the other concepts that can only be achieved like nirvana by some people and not others is not a comfortable idea. this is not to say that everyone has the same feelings and experiences, absolutely not - but we categorize our experiences within the contexts we exist in. or maybe that's just word salad.

i know that - at the time, i knew i was deeply connected to this other person and kept thinking about her all the time and we talked about wanting to be close friends for our whole lives and wrote poetry together about our soulmateness and we made mutual friends feel like a third wheel. i knew i had no desire to kiss her or take her on dates, and she crushed on some boy at summer camp, but the connection between us was mutual and explicit. if the concept of a queerplatonic relationship had been available to us at the time, maybe we would've recognized it as such. i just knew that what i was feeling didn't match up at all with what i've been told 'being in love' was supposed to be like - especially because, at the time, Being In Love also included sexual attraction. we had just cracked open the 2010's and asexuality was a punchline and a joke.

i know that - during the time i was made to feel ashamed of my aroace identity and the narrative was that i'm actually just repressing my TRUE queer identity, i reframed my memories - i had obviously been in love with my friend Romantically. i was a Real Gay. i was Valid. I Was Sapphic Actually. you can't kick me out of the parade if i had pined for my best friend as a teen!!!!

i know that - once i reclaimed the pride in myself, i reframed the memories again: i had obviously been in love with my friend Platonically, because otherwise i would've been a traitor to the good name of aromanticism. if i knew what it was like to have a crush i would contradict myself. who am i to write about romantic love as if i know? what was i doing at the devil's sacrament?

maybe it is a mystery. maybe i don't know shit. it's hard, actually, to know anything at all when the way my strange brain filters emotions through my body reads so different to the user manual. how can anyone stand to pine for another when it's all anxiety, all day? "butterflies"???? really????? how am i supposed to know anything for sure when my brain's favourite hobby is to pick thoughts apart and run them through the distortion machine on repeat, on repeat, on repeat? i don't know if i've ever loved anyone at all, now that i think about it. maybe i'm an empty shell of a human and everything i do is an act of puppetry and wishful thinking.

i just gotta trust that the love is there, in some form or another. even when i can't reach for it and confirm its existence - let alone deduce a detailed taxonomy. what do you even need that for.

[elrielffs]

Let's say Elucien/Gwynriel happens. I would be upset because obviously Elriel but I would also be upset because the building blocks just aren't there?

Like for Elucien we don't have Lucien figuring out Elain is a seer, we have Lucien asking TAMLIN to get Elain back, we have Lucien sitting in Spring Court twiddling his thumbs while Elain is in the supposedly EVIL Night Court and ONLY leaves cause Feyre is leaving, we have Lucien stating he wants to see Elain to "see if she's worth fighting for", we have Lucien comparing Elain to his ex. This is not the stuff of romance and why I can't root for them.

For Gywnriel, we have Azriel not caring that Gwyn was in the Blood Rite, we have no idea if Gwyn is interested (seriously, it would have been so easy for Gwyn to mention during the sleepover to Nesta and Emerie SOME hint that she finds Azriel at least attractive?), we don't even have that delicious banter that antis like to say is needed for "good relationships", and no, see you tomorrow Shadowsinger is not banter. We don't have Azriel singling out Gwyn during training, we have nothing. Not even in the BC when Azriel and Gwyn's eyes meet (instead of something charging between them like Elriel) we have BOTH thinking about Gwyn's assault and Azriel has no reaction? For all people think they are mates, he HAS NO REACTION TO THE THOUGHT OF HER ASSAULT other than AWKWARDNESS.

If these ships were to happen I would need MORE. I don't need blatant flirting or anything, but there's NOTHIHG there to root for. Antis say they know this but "see the potential" but that goes for EVERYONE. Any two people can have "potential" but as an author writing romance you want to have the building blocks leading up to a relationship or even INTEREST in the other person and get readers EXCITED but Elucien/Gwynriel don't have that. They just don't.

I would WANT Lucien to know Elain is a seer. (Like Azriel)

I don't want to hear Lucien comparing Elain to Jesminda. (In Azriel's pov he doesn't even THINK of Mor.)

I would WANT Azriel to freak out over Gwyn in the BR. (The man who didn't care if he died to get Elain back but won't break rules for his supposed mate in a tradition he doesn't give a shit about?)

I want Azriel to feeling unbelievable anger at Gwyn's assault (instead of dumping her on Mor immediately but clinging to Elain even when's she's safe and demanding to get chains off her).

I love Elriel. I love both Elain and Az seperately. But the reason I ship them is because the building blocks ARE there that the other ships don't have. There's NOTHING to be excited or root for in the other ships.

Elucien has nothing.

Gwynriel has a BC (which has been debunked and given credit to the Lightsinger theory/just something strange going on) but even if it was supposed to be romantic I would be pissed if I was Gwynriel. Having to read about Az desiring Elain in a holy, down bad, pussy eating way and giving Gwyn a necklace as an afterthought and NOT EVEN DIRECTLY? THAT IS NOT ROMANCE. And the fact that NOTHING CHANGES AFTER. GWYN AND AZ DO NOT BECOME CLOSER. HE STILL DOESN'T GIVE ENOUGH OF A SHIT TO SAVE HER FROM THE BLOOD RITE OR EVEN HAVE A REACTION SPECIFICALLY TO GWYN BEING IN THE BR COMPARED TO EMERIE/NESTA. For all the antis try to say that Azriel is just lusting for Elain in the BC, I feel like what happens with Gwyn is TEN TIMES WORSE if indeed Gwynriel were true.

This is why I think anything but Elriel would be bad writing. Not just for the obvious setup for Elriel but the LACK of set up FOR Elucien/Gwynriel.

Sorry for the messy rant, I just had to get that out.

[chaifootsteps]

I'm sorry if I sound like the classic "ugh, why can't they be just Friends????!1" but after some episodes I just can't keep wondering....

Are friends even a thing in the hellaverse?!

I really, REALLY can't think of any interaction between characters that isn't either oversexual or fells like a natural friendship...

I've seen people say the V's feel like a natural group of friends but....nope, both males of the trio have that oversexual tone and velvette is just there.

No one in IMP feels close to anyone that isn't family or romantic, Blitz is awful to mox, Loona is awful to mox, Millie and Loona are always hating each other and Vías "moment" of calm with Loona feels OC for her.

Same with the hazbin cast, despite there is a possible bound between niffty and Husk being under Alastors control they rarely interact, the supposed love Charlie express to the cast feels plastic since she never got close to anyone really and barely interacted (just that disgusting episode where she sees a friend in pain and wont help cause 'itz meeeeaaaan!!'), and they got rid of the cool friend that cherri was supposed to be in favor of....you guessed it !! Shipping!!! Yay!!!!.

The only "frienship" that could have been great where emily and Charlie, and Veggie with angel in the past when she was supposed to be a sinner...

but I don't feel like Charlies feelings about others are sincere anymore by how unnatural she acts, like she says she cares but doesn't really and Emily, despite being really innocent deserves better...

And veggie isn't a troubled sinner that died in the 90's anymore so that "enemies to friends" regarding a growth of a soft spot between her and angel, and the possibility of them bounding over their shared pain (veg was supposed to be a S*xworker in life) is gone like any hope I could had over this mess...

Sorry for the long rant but I haven't seen anyone pointing it out.

You're right, and I think it's one of those things that hints at something fairly sad about Viv as a person. She can't write sincere romantic relationships to save her life, but she's also just really, really bad at writing friends. Characters might work together towards a common goal, might even hang out together, but there's a lack of empathy, of connection, of real love. Pentious's "friends" let him be dragged off by a crowd of rapists, Husk says he accepts Angel's flaws and then expresses disgust with them two episodes later, and everyone in HB constantly abuses and belittles and threatens everyone else.

The most believable friendship we have is Pilot and Addict Angel and Cherri, and we saw what happened to that.

And yeah, there's no getting around it, I think that's all Viv and how she interacts with people. Viv's closest, most enduring friend is Sam, who she shit talks behind her back and who talks shit about her in turn. And that kind of says it all.