#I'm rapid fire with the reblog to give things

[samandcolbyownme]

Hear me out- I'm on my period and thinking about how great Zach would be during it. Like he would spoil you with food and attention

Warnings: talk of period, swearing, Zach being Zach, fluff

Enjoy!

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It was odd that you weren’t out of bed at 9:30 with your final alarm.

“Hey. Babe.” Zach whistles, “Are you coming or what?”

“No.” You mumble from under the blankets, “It’s a no go for anything today.”

You feel the bed dip down and you peak out from under the covers, “I got my period, and it hurts.” He tilts his head, “Ah. There’s why you’ve been a little bitchy.”

You roll your eyes, “get out.”

Zach leans in, “I’m joking. Okay. Now you get comfy. Pick a movie.” He pecks your head and gets up, “Do you want medicine?”

“Yes please.” You say as you move your way up to let in a comfortable position. You grab the remote from the night stand and switch the tv on.

A few minutes later, Zach comes back in, with not only your medicine and a drink, but with a heating pad, too.

He gives you the pills and you take them as you watch him plug in the heating pad and turn it on, “Be careful. This thing can get hot.”

You laugh at the parent mode coming out on him, “Thank you.” You lay the heating pad over your stomach and rest your arms over it.

You finally settle on a movie and look at the door, “Babe. You coming?”

“Yeah.” He yells back, “Hold your horses for another minute.”

“But I don’t have horses.” You whine with a laugh, “Zach. I need cuddles.”

He walks in, a bunch of snacks in his arms and he looks at you, “Whatever I’m here, you can put them in the stable.” He kicks the door closed and flicks off the lights, “Do you need anything else before I get into bed with you?”

You shake your head, “no, the only thing I need is you.”

He smirks, “You’re so cheesey.” You roll your eyes as you push the blanket back to make room for him, “Have you heard yourself speak?“

He thinks for a moment, “No, I normally just rapid fire.” He laughs, “Anyway, I got a variety of food because I wasn’t sure what the demons inside of you were craving, so I just covered all the basics, K?”

You look up at him, “Thank you. You did good, baby.”

He nods, “Cool. So what movie did you pick?”

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Thank you so much for reading! Ilysm! Let me know how you liked it! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[heretodestroyou]

heart-shaped sunglasses.

pairing(s); matthew lillard!william afton x reader

fandom; five nights at freddy’s [movie]

w/c; 592

trigger/content warnings; slightly unholy thoughts from william about you in your uniform, fem!reader, (reader wears lipstick, has boobs, is called 'girl' by william and has medium-length hair), heavy lana del rey influences (diet mountain dew), mentioned that reader smokes cigarettes, age gap (william is late 40s, reader is mid 20s), no explicit romance but it's heavily implied there's mutual pining, written from william's pov, reader knows his real name, not proof-read, NO use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything.

stella speaks! at this point someone reblogs/tags me in a shitpost about this man, i add tags while my brain is inconsolably horny, and then all of a sudden i'm writing a new draft. and yes, ik lana wasn't really a thing in 1990s, but for now let's pretend he's still a silver fox in the 2020s.

tags; @truecobblepot bc ofc🫶🏽🫶🏽

inspired by this post and the shenanigans that ensued.

“I just wanted to know how much I appreciate you staying late these past couple weeks.”

William’s voice is smooth, he’s demeanor calm, the slight tilt of his head and the casual clasp of his hands in front of him giving no hint to the turmoil in his brain.

You’re his employee. His best employee, no less. He can’t afford to lose you, to drive you away. So he’ll make sure you’re not looking him in the eye when his roam your body.

The words that come from your mouth are sincere. He knows this. He doesn’t much care in this moment however. That red vest is pulled across your breasts, and the top button of your shirt is undone, your tie looser now that the building is empty.

It’s his fault, how tight your uniform is on you. He has your size on file, but he always orders a size down, just for him. He doesn’t pay mind to the way teenage pizza boys and older brothers here with siblings watch you, because he knows he’s miles better than they are.

His eyes linger in the plastic heart-shaped sunglasses hanging from your collar, and he nods towards them. “And those? I do hope you haven’t been wearing those all day.”

It’s a gentle correction. No matter how much William favors you, he still must keep his image up. You shake your head. “No, I just got them out of my locker when I closed up with Robyn.”

“Where did you get them?” He asks, leaning forward. The movement is subtle, but he knows you catch it.

“It was a gag gift from some party,” you answer, taking them off your vest and sliding them on. William's breath barely catches in his throat. The frames are the same shade as the blood red lipstick you love wearing.

It’s your signature. It’s how he knows you’ve been in the break room, paper coffee and water cups stamped with your lips in the trash, lipstick printed cigarette buts in the back alleyway that he’s convinced himself are prettier than anyone else’s.

William's brain is rapid firing all kinds of signals, ranging from you're nearly 20 years younger than him, to why have I never felt this was about my ex-wife?

Everything about you seems to catered to William's preferences. You hold eye contact with him and customers, you're great with kids (including his!), and you actually appreciate the care he takes of his animatronics.

He chuckles as you look around his dim office with your heart-shaped sunglasses. "Well, now, look at you. Never was there ever a girl so pretty." You giggle, tugging on a strand of hair and sliding them up into your hair. "That's so sweet, Mr. Afton!" William chuckles. You're picture perfect and William is damn well aware that he's no good for you. "Please, call me William. It's only fitting that we remain on first name basis...as of your promotion to assistant manager."

Your eyes widen, and you let out a little gasp. "Do you really mean that, Mr. Af-- William?"

God, the way your lips form his name is intoxicating. He nods, his demeanor wavering slightly as you beam at him, thanking him.

It’s a power move, he knows. A selfish one, no less. But he can’t risk losing the one competent employee. And besides, the assistant manager’s uniform is closer to his, the pale purple shirt and darker tie, black slacks and black shoes (of your choosing, of course).

And who is he to deny himself that view?

[sprldreams]

Indulging in a blackmail fantasy exploring the other side of the post I reblogged earlier. Maybe slightly incoherent since I'm a bit horny and didn't proof read it 🤭

* bzz bzz bzz *

My phone vibrates repeatedly from rapid fire messages.

Of course they're from you.

Like always they're pictures, desperate for attention.

You were such an easy target--recently turned 21, socially anxious, depressed, fresh out of a long term relationship.

Somehow I survived hearing you talk about the loser that dumped you. His loss. He couldn't see the unpolished gem in front of him.

But you've long forgotten about him at this point.

All it took were a few well placed compliments and a little compassion; you were so broken.

I sent you a few pictures of myself, just to prove that I'm real--I didn't realize what an obsessed little puppy you were though.

That's when the pictures started. You sent so many begging for attention. But you were always careful. Never showing your face or giving real personal details.

"I have an idea, why don't you send me your Google drive account so that I can share a bunch of pictures for when you get needy~"

It was obvious you were especially needy tonight. Out of your mind.

Sure enough, login information came a few minutes later. You always were so desperate to see me.

I uploaded a few pictures as promised. Those would definitely keep you entertained for a while.

In the meantime I browsed your other files before finding the real jackpot-a folder filled with endless pictures and videos you took of yourself doing disgusting things.

No blur or cropping.

Without hesitation, I downloaded everything. Your name, address, and school were also on some university related work.

Come for me. Now. Just stare at my pictures and fuck yourself imagining me. Such a good girl Amy.

You'd never told me your real name before. But I knew everything now and we were going to have so much fun in this next chapter~

The next day you were a bit awkward

Hey uh you didn't go snooping around last night, did you?

I sent back a particularly delightful video of you rubbing desperately and pissing in your shower.

Fuck.

The dynamics of our relationship changed permanently.

I didn't ask for pictures anymore. I told you to take them. No matter where you were or what you were doing.

I started with easy tasks at first -- public pictures you were too shy for before, masturbating in men's bathrooms, and such.

You were so obedient.

It's like this is what you had wanted all along.

Steadily I gave you more and more degrading tasks.

I hardly had to threaten you anymore.

When you graduated college and I told you I would take your virginity as a reward, I could see the ecstacy on your face through the video call.

A few days later a plane ticket came in your mail.

First class, one way.

Now, what will you choose little girl?

[findroleplay]

Hey there :D

Please be 20+. I recently found out about the a/b/o verse and I'd love to give it a try!

I have some plot ideas ranging from fluff to darker stuff, but I will not go completely into dead dove territory.

I just have one small request!! I'm new in the Omegaverse community and the only thing I understand about this verse is that is confusing, so I'd like my partner to take some time to build the rules of our verse together and possibly explain some stuff about it for me.

I'm open to doubling up. Actually, I'd love to create a little pack of characters. The idea would be to start a few threads for different characters and then bring them together to one big roleplay for the pack? If it makes sense. But even a traditional 1x1 or 2x2 (one Alpha one omega each) works for me.

I have years of experience in the roleplay community but I have been sleeping on this verse for so long, I want to get into it!! I developed a detailed style with longer replies (2 or more paragraphs) and I'd like someone on a similar wavelength.

I'm okay with oc or canon in case we do share a fandom, more to be discussed in private. I strongly prefer mxm, but if you are willing to explain the details of fxf a/b/o to me, I'll be glad to try it too. Just no mxf please. Modern or historical is both cool.

Nsfw is not a requirement but I'm open to it.

You need to have Discord, I only roleplay in private servers.

Please no rapid fire responses expected. I reply 1-2 per week and sometimes take breaks.

I absolutely LOVE gushing over pairs and learn about people's oc! This being said, I may be a bit picky about the kind of ship we do. I'm not really used to a/b/o tropes so extremely submissives characters are still not my thing to play as or against, sadly.

Like, comment or reblog to get a 💌 from me!

-

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 31-32-33

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

THIRTY ONE

The first rule of dealing with something magically stronger than you is to keep a low profile. You know, the one thing I've never been able to do all that well.

To be fair, I'd known from the beginning that if I went to the auction, that if I agreed to follow Ford's plan, I'd be in Koschei's crosshairs sooner or later. The mastermind had not lied to me, not one single step of the way. I'd just been hoping that with all those plans and machinations, I'd be able to stay in the background, for once.

Harry Dresden, eternal optimist.

I'd stayed closed to the bar after I was done with my part in the festivities, the easier for Eliot to find me. It was a good central place, I had a nice line of sight to two other rooms, and I could catch a glimpse of a couple more. I waited for the flash of blue.

I didn't have a plan. Despite my reputation, I'm not the sort of man that goes looking for fights, particularly with something I know it's stronger than me. I will fight if there's no other option, and most of the time there just isn't.

Sophie walked back into the main area, looking around, and I had to force myself to walk up to her. I'd done my job too well; the Veil on the diamond dripped a sort of subtle menace that matched her perfume, and my feet didn't want to go. Paradoxically, it was the memory of the Soulgaze, paired with how she'd charmed the Dredgers, that got me moving. This was Sophie Deveraux. A creature made of mirrors, of masks, that still managed to know herself better than anyone I'd ever met. No Veil could ever be more powerful than the woman currently wearing it. So I scooted over and introduced myself.

We managed to trade a whole three pleasantries before she hauled up and slapped me so hard I went staggering back. The only reason I didn't go down was that my supposed bodyguard came back at that moment and caught me. Sophie was snarling rapid-fire Russian at me, glaring murder. The entire room turned their attention on us. She took one step forward and suddenly Fedorov was there, one arm around her waist, murmuring soothingly, his uncle and Nick just a step behind him. She hissed something back at him, in no mood to be appeased. Ying Ying had a tiny little grin on her perfect orchid mouth, and two of the people with her looked like they were about to start laughing. A few, very few, of those around me, looked mildly disconcerted - the look of people who'd come to a party expecting, you know. A party. Not a potential brawl.

"Dresden, what did you do?" Eliot hissed at me through gritted teeth. Someone laughed, high and brittle, off to one side; the fey twins had just arrived.

"I was complimenting her!" I protested my innocence. Surely I was a very convincing advocate for it.

"Complimenting!" Sophie exclaimed in angry disbelief, her Russian accent even more clipped.

"Kate, it's fine," Fedorov tried.

"It is not fine!" She whirled on him. "I will not be compared to a, a peddling, graverobbing mortal mongrel!"

"I didn't compare!"

"Dresden -"

"I just said it was kinda nice to meet a bigger crook than the Brit."

"Harry!" Eliot snapped.

She made to charge me. Fedorov caught her, just barely, speaking hasty Russian. Off to one side Hardison, having just come downstairs, pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, that seems uncalled for," he muttered primly. Those around him tittered mildly.

"This is why you need a babysitter, man," the hitter growled at me.

"Please!" Here came the man of the hour, arms outstretched, friendly uncle mode fully engaged. "No violence, no violence, this is a party! We're celebrating. If someone has to be drawn and quartered, surely it can wait until after the auction -" Koschei caught sight of me and came to a dead stop, mouth open, eyes gone wide, the joke forgotten.

"And you!" Sophie all but shouted at him. "What game are you playing here? None of these are real, they are all fakes! The portrait is not here! Were you going to rob us all? Have you stolen all the originals and were you going to play us all for fools?"

For a second, a single dangerous moment, Koschei was too stunned by my presence at his shindig to defend himself or refute Sophie's accusations. Under normal circumstances that wouldn't be a problem. Most people's minds didn't jump to betrayal just because someone shouts about thirty pieces of silver in the crowd.

But most of those around us weren't people.

"There's really only a few confidence games," Nate had told me. "Every con, every heist, every job is based off of them. The Kennedy half-dollar is a variant of the Golden Fiddle, the con we did when we needed you in the MFA vaults. We're going to question the value of everything in that auction, forcing the man in black to prove its worth."

And on that razor's edge of perfect timing, Sophie pulled it off. I felt the mood in the room shift as vividly as if it were a visible tide. No one thought much of Harry Dresden, professional wizard. Ying Ying had only noticed me, probably, because of the current situation between the White Council and the Red Court. But the fact I'd approached a deadly, unknown predator, coupled with the interest they all had on Vanya Fedorov, meant Sophie's curator character and I both had a sudden wealth of banked credibility. We were believable. And when Koschei didn't immediately refute the accusations, given everyone there was a crook of one kind or another, doubt immediately sank in and took root.

"Of course they're real!" Koschei protested at last with a scoff. "The only item I'm selling is the painting -"

"Portrait!" she hissed at him.

"Whatever! I have no interest in the Dragon's Flute or the Bag of Winds, or any of the other…" He waggled his hand restlessly. "Oddities on offer here!"

"And yet it would not be the first time you have taken something from their sellers, is it," she shot back acidly.

Koschei recoiled. Minutely, but it was still the worst possible thing he could have done. Behind me I heard Ying Ying whisper something to one of her cohorts. Unlike her, I couldn't make out the words, and I doubted Eliot could either; then again, I didn't know if he even spoke Thai. That didn't matter. What mattered was watching the young woman march off smartly, already reaching for her phone. Past her, security began to slip into the room, likely sniffing the potential for trouble. I counted four and stopped paying attention, because after that numbers weren't gonna matter.

"Is this true?" a young man's voice asked. The fey twin, the memory-eater, stepped forward. He was wearing a tux in bloody shades, and somehow he made it look good. "Are all of the items copies, are none of the real items here?"

"No!" Koschei tried to laugh it off. "Yes, I did put the actual portrait elsewhere, for safekeeping reasons. But I haven't tampered with anything else, why would I?"

"Yeah, why would ya?" Classy growled, flanked by four of his people, all of them glaring murder at the wizard. "Why fuckin' would ya," he clipped out.

Koschei was glaring murder at me, even though I hadn't said a word since the whole mess had started. I grinned back at him. The whispers among the small crow were beginning to turn into a solid, angry murmur. "Please!" He threw his arms out. "I'll have the original painting, er, portrait, brought over at once. You can authenticate it to your heart's content. I cannot account for everything else -"

"Why the hell not?" Classy snarled back. "This whole copy bait-n'-switch mess was yer fuckin' idea!"

"I will tend," Koschei gritted out, "to those concerns in a moment, mister Act, I assure you."

Entirely unrelated to anything going on, my brain suddenly figured out Classy's actual name, and I snickered. It wasn't much. It burst out of me when even I wasn't expecting it. The room's attention lashed out and latched onto that sound, and then came back to rest on Koschei like a shroud of stone. He flicked his fingers at one of the security people, a man who looked vaguely like an unfinished slab of rock given human shape, and said something. I felt Eliot tense next to me.

The man nodded to his instructions and waved a couple of his people over. They moved on at a brisk step. I felt a press of heat at my back and knew we'd been given some company. "Two?" I asked Eliot as quietly as I could.

"Three," he replied evenly.

A large, flat wooden crate was brought in. Crowbars came out, and Sophie gasped. She was not the only one. Hardison made to say something but thought better of it, and everyone around him whispered uneasily.

"Carefully, please," Koschei entreated his people.

"Why not have Mister Act and his people do it?" Sophie suggested. "I trust their handling of priceless treasures far more than I trust your thugs."

The crowd murmured agreement. Classy looked surprised for a fleeting moment, then put on his best business face on and stepped forward, shrugging off his jacket and nodding to his people. One of the security people offered him a crowbar and he scoffed. "Clod," he declared disdainfully, rolling up his sleeves. His people, somehow having become five in number, swarmed over the box, tipped it over until their boss could run his hands over the seam between two boards. He felt his way along until he found the right spot, nodded to himself, and slid his claws in. The wood bulged, he twisted his arms a smidge, and the front board sprang free along one corner. The Dredger shifted his grip in some impossible way and peeled the board off one nail at a time, methodical and slow, until he and the woman with him could remove it altogether. Another one of his crew carefully removed the padding away and they all stepped back. A sigh went through the crowd. The portrait was, magic aside, truly a work of art. The colors, the details, the sheer amount of work that had obviously gone into it were enough to make even an uneducated goon like me understand why art was what it was, why it touched people the way it did.

Sophie stepped forward. So did Hardison, working his glasses. "So this is the original, then?" he asked Koschei. "The actual original?"

"On my word it is," the wizard smiled stiffly at him.

That one was gonna come back to hurt him, I thought. It made me smile.

Sophie and Hardison paced before the painting. It was him who stepped back first. "No, it isn't."

"Excuse me?" Koschei stared at him blankly.

Sophie swore at him in Russian. Behind Fedorov, I saw his uncle put a despairing hand to his face. "What game do you think to play with us?" Her voice was regal and lethal; the Veil was pretty much overkill at that point. "This is just another fake!"

"Sir," Hardison's British accent had gotten even more rigid. "I find this unacceptable -"

"This is the real portrait!" the wizard protested.

Sophie scoffed in patent disbelief. Koschei puffed up indignantly. The crowd was growing loud and very restless.

A sound like a drum silenced everyone. "If I may," a man's voice wheezed. "I have, for the auction, acquired the services, very costly, of one of city's, quite capable, experts on the artist." The crowd parted. The toad-like man shifted, settling back down, stubby fingers holding a brandy glass. No amount of custom-fitted tailoring or magic could fully hide his nature, though he was making the best attempt of everyone present to pass as human. He was surrounded by four willowy blondes that I was sure could murder most everyone there without care or effort. The toad dredged in another breath. "I must question, unfortunately, the lady's opinion, as one must." He gestured with one stubby hand at Sophie. "You may be, possibly, tricking the competition, being us, into leaving."

Sophie gasped, elegantly offended.

"A possibility," Hardison said before she could detonate, then turned to Koschei. "If there's another expert curator present, I would welcome their opinion. I'm good, of course, but Sokolov is not my particular field of expertise."

Koschei was looking outright murderous, but he managed to dig up a smile out of somewhere. "Of course. Mister Batra, please, your expert?"

The toad's bodyguards parted; he stepped aside.

Jessamine Lochlin, dressed in a lovely lilac and green gown, stepped forward.

Well, crap.

THIRTY TWO

The only person present who could say anything did. "Jessamine," Sophie breathed.

Parker's friend gave her a withering glare, even as her feet tried to shy her away. "I can't believe I liked you," she told Sophie angrily, and then refused to look at her altogether. I felt Eliot shift behind me and moved to cover him, remembering the situation at the MFA. No way of knowing if she'd remember him from it.

Hardison blew out a low breath and rubbed at the side of his face. I could only imagine what the conversation on his earbud was like. Ford wasn't speaking through the mirror shards - there were too many people around that might have heard him, with so many of us put together, but I was pretty certain Parker wouldn't take this one lying down.

"Are we to trust the word of a human in this matter?" the twin to the fey memory-eater asked. She was wearing a gown in every shade of gray and silver and looked both inhuman and beautiful. Somehow Sophie still managed to outmatch her in elegance.

"Doctor Jessamine Lochlin has made it her life's goal to be the world's foremost Sokolov expert," Sophie fired back before anyone else could. "If you believe you can produce someone better, please. Do."

The fey woman looked away, pissed. Her twin grinned, examining both Sophie and Jess with open interest.

For a moment, the only sounds were those of the breeze coming through the open windows, the distant surf across the gardens. No one said a word, and I wasn't entirely sure half the audience was even breathing. We all watched and waited as the young woman examined every inch of the portrait and its lavishly carved, antique wooden frame. I saw her expression fall but, stubbornly, she checked and double-checked before she took three steps back. "It's a fake," she declared, not quite able to hide her heartbreak.

Koschei lunged at her. I'm not sure what I was thinking, I'm not sure I was thinking at all, but before I knew what I was doing I'd taken two long steps and was between him and Jess. He bared his teeth at me and I knew I had about two seconds before he threw a spell on me point-blank. So I grinned at him. "We're still all your guests here, aren't we?"

He froze, hands curled into fists. "So you are," he ground out, and took a step back.

It struck me then. That was it. That was why I kept walking away, that was why I kept surviving. In all his centuries Koschei had gotten comfortable knowing no one could challenge him if he bent or twisted the rules to serve his own interests. But I was a wizard. I could call him out, and I had, every time. Ironically, my time under the Damocles Doom had taught me to slide right up to the very limit of what wizardly law had to tolerate without crossing a line. Koschei could pretend he was still within the law and force acceptance by sheer firepower. I didn't. I knew to the millimeter what I could get away with without ever lifting a finger for a spell.

And he hated it. He hated that I was outright calling him out on it every. single. time. But he couldn't do anything about it, because he was technically not a criminal, and that was important to him. That facade was vital to the man and he would do anything to preserve it.

Even back off from a staredown with the hobo-looking wizard from Chicago.

I could feel hands gripping the back of my duster in a white-knuckled grip, and turned a little. Jessamine Lochlin was ashen and terrified, but she was on her feet and not gibbering, and honestly I counted that a win even as my heart went out to her. I could see why Parker liked her, too; to have finagled an invite to the party just to try and get close to the portrait? She was made of titanium. "You alright, miss?"

She looked up at me and managed a little nod. That was all the communication we managed before two of the toad's bodyguards came to shepherd her away.

"Mister Stone," Koschei called out to one of the hulking behemots passing off as a security guard. "Close the house, please. Security at every door and window."

"Wizard, what do you think you're doing?" Ying Ying demanded.

"Recovering my stolen property," he ground out. "The real portrait was here. Now it is not. I have been robbed, and I intend to find out who, and how, and why -"

"Rot the portrait!" Another man said. "How dare you presume to imprison us -"

"I will not be accused of theft!" Sophie declared, utterly outraged.

Hardison moved closer to Koschei. "My good sir," he informed the wizard as primly as possible. "Unless you believe I'm hiding Piotr Sokolov's largest work in one of my pockets, I will be leaving now. I don't know what game you think you're playing here, but it's uncalled for. It's…" He groped for a word, and finally declared. "It's rude. You will be hearing from my office about this matter. Good day, sir."

He stalked off. One of the security people moved to stop him, but Koschei gestured impatiently to let him go. Hardison wasn't even out of sight and he already had his phone in his hand, and not a single one of the guests there spared a thought for that. Me, I didn't even try to figure out what sort of digital magic he was about to wreak on the gathering.

A very heavy hand dropped on my bad shoulder. I couldn't quite keep from wincing, but I did a passable job of not making a sound. "Mister Koschei would like a word with you in private, wizard," the man said, low and indifferent.

I'd barely looked back before Eliot had grabbed the wrist of the security man in an equally heavy grip. "You don't want to do that," he said very mildly.

Half a dozen heads, those with supernaturally keen hearing, turned immediately in our direction. The security man, who was my height and built like a Cold War bunker, took one look at Eliot and scoffed.

The hitter shifted his grip a little bit. The next thing I knew he'd peeled the man off of me and had his arm twisted at an impossible angle. The security goon crashed down to one knee with a startled, pained howl.

"I did ask nicely first," Eliot declared amicably.

"You did," I confirmed, but the other two security with us were already rousing angrily, and I could see three more coming at us through the crowd. "Let him up, though. Koschei might be selling duds, but I don't wanna get on the bad side of the Dredgers if we break something."

Eliot held his grip just a second longer, to make his point, before he let go. The man reeled back, and one of his buddies helped him up. I stepped forward to keep things somewhat under control. "I'll be happy to speak with wizard Koschei," I assured them sunnily. "Lead on." One of them gestured me on; another tried to block Eliot's path. "My bodyguard comes with me, of course."

The hitter looked up very levelly at the guard. "Are we doing this?" He was still perfectly calm, but there was murder in his eyes.

The guard stepped back, and we were both shepherded away.

THIRTY THREE

Alexander Worthington (the Third), stalked out of the mansion speaking irately into his phone, past the pack of door guards, who did nothing more than stare indolently after him. He made it to a nondescript black rental before he dropped the accent and the pretense. "Alright, Nate, I'm out," he informed the mastermind as he got in the car, popped an earbud in and drove sedately away - directly into the parking lot where Lucille 2.0 and the U-Haul van were parked.

Not a moment later a tousled, breathless man came charging down the hallway and up to the door, looking slightly rumpled. "The portrait's missing," he wheezed to the woman in charge. "No one leaves, by the wizard's orders."

They blinked at him, and he could all but see their heart sinking. "The Christie's man just left," the lead security woman informed him, sounding and looking aghast.

"What?!"

"He just -"

"Well, go! Go find him! Stop him!" Nate turned and trotted back into the manor as the woman started barking orders. "And don't let anyone else leave!" He shifted to a more leisurely walk just in time to meet the security guard he'd narrowly avoided when sneaking in, coming down to warn the door guards of the same thing. He nodded politely at the man and headed further in.

The guard put a hand out. "No one is to leave, sir."

"Oh, I'm not - I'm not leaving," Nate assured him. "I just got here, is the auction over already?" The thing was, Nate was coming from the right direction. He was dressed the part, he wasn't trying to leave, he didn't ring any warning bells. He'd snuck in with the slimmest of margins, directly behind the door guards but just ahead of the arriving guard, the only weak point in security at that moment, knowing he needed them both to see him at the right time, at the right place.

The guard grimaced and stepped away. "No, it hasn't started, go on, sir."

"Thank you," Nate watched the man hurry away. "Alright, who's free?"

"I'm with Nick in the dining room, by the bar," Sophie murmured. "Fedorov's putting pressure on his uncle. He's going to get the truth out of the man sooner or later."

"We're going a whole lot further into the house than the guests were allowed," Eliot commented casually. The mastermind heard the voice of one of the guards, the words impossible to make out; the mirror shards had a lot less peripheral range than the earbuds.

"I'm ready down here," Parker reported. She sounded cold and distant; Nate knew that finding out her friend was in the line of fire had shifted the thief's priorities radically.

To be fair, it had shifted his own priorities as well. Nate paused at the door to the main room, where tempers were fraying and moods were disimproving. The guards were just finishing closing off the windows. He moved out of the way of another woman who was closing the door with a quiet, polite apology, and headed to the bar.

He'd had to cut Dresden's part short; he could only hope it'd be enough. The last window latch fell, the last heavy, ancient door closed. "Go ahead, Parker."

Boston's older buildings, for the most part, had either radiators or floor-level heating systems. Both worked more or less the same way: a heated medium was run through a pipe surrounded by heat-dispersing fins. The system subscribed to the true-and-tried adage: if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But modern, wealthy homes were often moved to the more familiar HVAC system, which were more efficient, quieter, simply pumping heated or cooled air as needed through vents - the same vents Parker had been using to peer around the mansion.

Those vents quietly, efficiently went to work pumping cooled air into the room as soon as all the doors and windows shut.

"Well, now." Koschei turned to look at his very angry, very captive audience.

Ekaterina coughed delicately into one hand. Fedorov leaned attentively close with a question, but she shook her head and murmured an easy reply.

"I should like my portrait back, if you please," the wizard declared. "I would prefer it happen before one must resort to violence."

"Resort fuckin' away," Classy challenged from the back of the crowd.

One of the fey twins coughed, startling her sibling into giving her a puzzled look. She looked no less surprised herself; she'd nearly dropped the champagne flute she was carrying.

"Mister Act, as I have told you, I have not touched any of your belongings -"

"Yeah? What about the one you already t- " Classy suddenly choked, hawked and spat off to one side, squinting. "The hell."

Ekaterina coughed again. This time, she didn't manage to stop, and had to lean on Vanya's shoulder.

"Come on," Nate murmured.

"It will be returned at the end of the night, as promised. Now, if you don't mind -"

"It was s'posed t' -" Classy coughed roughly, but his anger carried him on. "Supposed to be ret-" A coughing fit caught him. The fey woman was all but clinging to her twin, and they were not the only ones. The toad wasn't coughing, but all of his bodyguards were. Nearly all of Ying Ying's party was beginning to choke. Nick cleared his throat pointedly.

"What is this?" the toad demanded; he'd gone slightly grey with alarm.

"Come on, come on," Nate urged.

Ekaterina opened her mouth, but Classy beat her to the punch, his voice a snarl as he and his group retreated against a wall. "He's usin'… he's usin' a fuckin' Witchwell t' p… t' poison the lot of us!"

"He did this back at the museum, to steal the portrait," Ekaterina wheezed. "Did you think we would not notice you trying to kill us? What were you going to do, Blackbird, loot the corpses?"

"I have done no such thing!" Koschei exclaimed. "I don't even have the damned thing! Everyone here would be affected, I would be affected!"

"Unless you knew what was coming," Vanya pointed out. "Unless you protected yourself and your friends. All those people you introduced me to, they are not affected."

The crowd glanced around. Without hesitation, sudden and absolute battle-lines were drawn up when Fedorov's words rang true: a small number of people who were, very much, not of the average human variety, found themselves suddenly surrounded and outnumbered two-to-one by their angry, coughing peers. The twins shoved at each other, hissing, hands turned to claws. The one member of Ying Ying's entourage that wasn't coughing was suddenly ringed by lambent-eyed vampires.

The fey in the blood-red tux caught his sister with one arm when she collapsed down on one knee, unable to fight him. He picked up an elegant antique chair with his free hand and flung it at a window. Glass shattered explosively; two of the security guards charged at him. He caught one by the throat like a stoat catches a vole and flung him at his counterpart, sending them both tumbling.

"Carevogh!" Koschei roared. "Don't you dare!"

"Bite me, Crow," the fey snapped back coolly, picked up his sister in a bridal carry, and leapt out the window.

"Stone!" Koschei bellowed. The security forces converged on him, which was good, because a lot of angry guests were beginning to advance on the wizard, too.

"Alright, Parker, that's good. Shut it off and get out." He got out of the way of a very large woman escorting what looked like a child, until one noticed the porcelain gloss of her skin and the clicking joints on every limb. The woman kicked open the door and Nate left her to it while he worked his way along the perimeter of the room, further into the mass of frustrated guests. This, he knew, was the most dangerous part for him. One stray look from Koschei and the wizard might well figure out the trap.

But Koschei was too busy trying to keep the guests from scattering. "Mazarena!" The wizard shouted.

"Keep me out of you schemes, wizard," the animated doll said in a clipped, mechanical voice, and trotted out. "I came here to bid, not to thin out your enemies for free."

"On it," Parker declared, just in time for the earbuds to screech angrily and collapse into static. Nate kept his hands firmly in his pockets, but it was a close thing. "Hardison?"

"She's offline," the hacker replied, his voice tight.

Nate finally got close enough to Classy and his people. He unlatched the window and threw it open, and lent both his hands to steadying two of the strangers until they were all but sitting on the windowsill. On the other side of the room Fedorov had yanked one of the decorative runners off a table and was using it to cover one of the vents. Nick and Ekaterina were by one of the windows. The vampires had tried to bully their way closer but one flat, level look from Nick, along with that unnerving smile, had led them to instead force open the doors to another room.

Nate paused. "Where's Sagorov?" He helped Classy up along with the one woman in his band, pulled him up close and whispered something very quickly against the Dredger's ear before hurrying away, leaving him staring after the mastermind in disbelief.

Fedorov brought Ekaterina a drink. They both whirled around at the sound of a yelp, just in time to watch Koschei slip away in the midst of a pack of security guards, dragging Jess along with him. The doors were slammed shut behind them. The main room was turning into a riot. "Bugger. Nate, Koschei just slipped away, and he took Jess."

"He's tracking the portrait." That was Dresden, barely speaking over a breath. "He just triggered my marker on it."

"Parker," Nate hissed, hoping against hope. There was, unsurprisingly, no answer. "Dresden, is there any way you can slow him down?"

"Um." He heard the wizard blow out a sharp breath. "Hardison, is there a sprinkler system?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, no, no. We're not using water until we know the watercolor is safe," Nate hurried to head that particular train off at the pass, even as his brain caught onto the fact he'd refused to see. Running water, the mastermind realized, and on the heels of that understanding he grimaced. He was doing it again, trying to explain things away, trying not to see them, not to hear them, not to know them. And he was costing himself and his team options in doing so. He closed his eyes and counted his blessings on Dresden. The wizard was working against Nate's own blinders, but what would happen if he tripped on a problem that didn't have a solution Dresden could improvise on the fly?

"Alright." Hitter and wizard had both retreated to one corner of the fancy drawing room where they'd been brought, but even so neither of them dared speak too loudly, not knowing if the guards would have keen enough hearing to catch them at it. Dresden tipped his fancy chair back until Eliot was sure he was going to topple backwards, and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Hardison, where's the closest big electrical junction?"

"Let me stop you right there," the hacker said. "Harry, I need power to manipulate the systems inside the house, I can't have you frying the electrical."

"I'm not gonna fry it," Dresden whispered mildly. "You're gonna make it look like I did."

"Oh, I like that. Finally we're meeting somewhere in the middle." Hardison sounded delighted. "East wall, about ten feet from the windows.

"How's that going to stop Koschei?"

"It won't. Nothing we can do is gonna stop him. But he's a man same as you and me and everyone, Ford. He needs eyes to see, he can't use a flashlight, and right now any magic he didn't have prepared beforehand is going to be a little hard for him. You didn't ask me to stop him, you know better. You asked me to slow him down." Harry rolled to his feet; the guards immediately turned in his direction, and he gestured at an elegant gingerbread cabinet. "I'm just going here. You know, looking for something to drink or something?"

The guards relaxed minutely. In the spirit of pretending Harry was still a guest, not a prisoner, they hadn't frisked him or Eliot, and were treating them both like live IEDs. They also didn't know enough about human habitats to realize a doily-covered gingerbread chest of drawers wasn't likely to be a fine repository for booze, and lost interest quickly in what the wizard was doing.

Until he leaned against the wall next to the cabinet, and every light in the mansion went out.

"Oh." Dresden said. "Can someone point me to my chair?"

"Dresden." Eliot sounded as if the last of his patience had run out several hours ago. "Get over here and siddown."

Nate, downstairs, met up with Sophie, Fedorov and Nick just before the lights went out. The Russian enforcer was scowling at his phone. "My uncle isn't answering," he told the mastermind. "I think once again you have brought me a truth I didn't want to hear."

"Oh, I'm so sorry we didn't let him raffle you off like a prize bull," Sophie declared tartly and he gestured appeasingly at her.

"Unless he can leave the grounds he's a problem that can wait." He turned to Nick. "We need to find Dresden, fast. Can you take us to him?"

"Sure." Nick shrugged and began to walk away. "I'm a little off from the flower stuff, but he's got a strong scent to him." At the far end of the dining room, two of the security guards were watching the door they needed. One put a hand up preemptively. Nick picked him up and threw him through the door. The other guard backed warily away and he smiled that wildly cheerful smile at her. She backed away another couple of steps.

They all walked on by the light of Fedorov's phone. Behind them, Vanya had finally gotten through to someone; he spoke in clipped, coldly angry Russian very briefly before hanging up. In the brief pause between his ending the call and reactivating the flashlight, Nate noticed something. "Sophie, you're um. You're glowing."

They paused. Fedorov turned off the flashlight. In the dark, the shades of blue of the spider-silk gown gleamed like the last gasps of sunlight through deep water.

"I'm not doing that," she breathed.

"You're doing strong magic," Nick said mildly as he sniffed at a crossing of hallways. "The silk's reacting to it, soaking it up."

"Strong -" The grifter's hand wrapped around the diamond she wore.

"Nate." Hardison's voice was low and worried. "The emergency GPS tracker on Parker's phone just went off."

The mastermind paused. He and Hardison were the only ones at the moment with both a working earbud and a pair of mirror shards. He gave Parker enough time to sound off. She didn't. "Eliot. We're coming to get Dresden. I need you to get to that tracker."

Eliot turned to look at the man sitting next to him. No one had bothered to make light of any kind; the guards either didn't need it or didn't care. In the dim glow coming through the windows, starlight and moonlight, the wizard's profile looked refined, ascetic, ancient as a knight errant keeping his midnight watch. But this was still Harry Dresden, professional wizard, and no matter what sort of power he could sling he was also the man that kept getting run through a meat grinder every time Eliot took his eyes off him.

Without looking at the hitter, Harry gave him a tiny nod.

Eliot rolled to his feet. The guards instantly tensed up. "Relax, relax, I just gotta, you know. Been drinking a little too much champagne. Where's, uh -" One of the guards nodded to another, who huffed minutely and moved to open the door for Eliot. The hitter glanced idly at him. "Alright. Didn't realize I needed a babysitter to use the bathroom."

"Walk, Spencer."

"Where, man, I can't see, and my phone," he gestured pointedly at the wizard, "bit it."

"Not my problem."

Eliot scoffed, thinking hard about the crash course Harry had given him on the many beings likely to be used as security, aside from leshy, by Koschei. The man was too big to be one of the hare-folk. The clothes were good, but they were definitely clothes - not a golem. The fingers were normal, no extra joints - not a ghoul or a gaunt. Normal teeth - not a were or a vampire. Gloved hands, but the shape of the claws was subtly visible.

"Hey, Eliot, catch." Dresden threw something small and shiny at the hitter. The guard intercepted it, opened his hand, and sniffed thoroughly at it before licking it. "Jeez, Godzilla, it's just a box of matches."

The guard growled and handed the matches over. Eliot grinned at Harry's help. It had been startling as hell to realize his reputation stretched into territory he'd only ever suspected existed, but at the moment that was a hindrance, not a bonus. Unlike most humans, who saw him as a challenge to be conquered, Koschei's security forces were instead brutally cautious of his every move. The hitter was getting nearly as much attention as Dresden, if not more. He flicked the lighter on and headed out into the darkness of the mansion's hallways. Somewhere in the mid-distance it sounded like a small riot was going on, but in their immediate vicinity all was quiet.

They made it to the bathroom on a single flickering light, and Eliot glanced at the, presumably, reptilian creature with him. "You gonna come in with me?" he mocked lazily.

His escort scowled at him, peered into the bathroom, saw a window and stepped in.

"Hey!" Eliot protested.

Unsurprisingly, he was ignored. It was likely to be the only half-second of diffidence his escort was going to give him, because the thug knew Eliot was going to complain, knew the hitter wouldn't like the situation. It was a protest he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the hitter to whip around, a blur of motion, slamming the flat of his hand against the guard's throat. Twice. Eliot stepped further into his opponent's reach when the guard staggered and gagged, one hand groping at his throat, the other grabbing for his attacker. He hooked a foot behind the one joint he knew for sure the guard had on his leg and shoulder-checked him. The man crashed down into the sink, spine leading. Eliot elbowed him through the porcelain sink.

And still the man was trying to get up, grabbing for him. Helpfully, the hitter picked him up and kicked him hard into the tub. Tangled up in the shower curtain, the guard was still feebly trying to come at him, so Eliot picked up the cover of the toilet tank and swung like a baseball pro. The cover shattered. So did the glamour, finally, revealing a heavily scaled, noseless face with awkward proportions, a mouth full of peg teeth, beady eyes and, surreally, a battered toupee. The guard sank into a groaning heap.

"Yeah, you do that," Eliot said, throwing the pieces of the toilet cover on top of the creature before he charged out of the bathroom, fishing his earbud out of one pocket and putting it in place. "Where, Hardison?"

"Basement," the hacker replied.

"Ok, Nate, I'm on my way."

Nate, Sophie and Fedorov were still following Nick as he single-mindedly moved through the house. They surprised a trio of people who were, apparently, using the distraction from the blackout to try and get away. Nick caught one; Fedorov stepped forward and punched another, hard. The stranger crashed down with a startled little squawk. The third tried to run, and went down in a tangle when Nick threw their buddy at them.

Sophie stared at Fedorov, who lifted a hand and tightened it into a fist around the gleaming knuckledusters in it. "I had a very enlightening conversation with your wizard," he said mildly. "And I know a few priests."

"Do you solve all your problems by throwing people?" Nate asked Nick with utmost courtesy.

Nick shrugged. "When I'm not allowed to bite 'em." He sniffed at the air and resumed walking.

They'd made it halfway up the stairs when Harry's voice came through the mirror shards, a lazy drawl laced heavily with sarcasm. "Is this how you treat your guests, Blackbird? Who's your friend?"

"Stop," Nate put a hand over the pin on his lapel and snapped out the one word. "Koschei's not looking for the painting, he's with Dresden."

"Nate." Eliot's voice was tight and furious. "I'm here, but I don't know what Parker tagged, it's just a basement."

Hardison's phone, back in Lucille 2.0, rang. He snatched it up when he saw the ID and hit the speaker feature. "Parker! Wher-"

"I am not Parker," the stern voice of an older woman with a thick accent whispered.

Everyone who could came to a halt. "Hardison, go on." There was a steady, subtle crackle of static to the earbuds, but they were hanging in there. The mirror shards could barely pick up the voice on Parker's phone, but it was enough for Sophie to have gone perfectly still, her face carved in ice. She and the wizard were the only ones without an earbud.

Hardison pressed his lips into a tight line before he spoke. "Grandmother, I presume?"

"Yes," the woman whispered.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

A small, wryly amused sound came through the line and the phone flickered, the connection faltering. "I was hurt long before I was brought to this place," the woman said. "But thank you. I do not know who you are, or why you care, you and your princess, but thank you."

"Hardison," Eliot ground out.

"Ma'am, we're actually here to get you out," the hacker informed her.

"Yes, she said that. But I do not see how."

"Where are you?"

"There is a small room beneath the house, behind the old iron heat bellows and pipes," she reported

"Eliot."

"On it." The hitter started moving again. "Hardison, tell her to get to some cover."

"Ma'am -"

"No, no, it is not me you should be helping, but the princess, the prince. They should not have come. He has always been greedy for such people, such power."

"What do you mean, what happened to Parker?" The hacker was trying to remain focused, but his worry was beginning to froth over.

"Is that her name?" she asked gently, and the tone soothed him back under control.

"Yes."

"You care for her."

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

The phone crackled angrily. "I do not think your little device likes me very much. I am not diminished enough for it to work much longer. She found me while she was hiding down here, among the pipes. But the leshy heard her, too."

"Can you get somewhere… out of the way, ma'am?" Hardison asked cautiously.

"I am in a bathroom. I am an old lady, splashing water on my face. All this iron, you know, it makes me ill." She sounded terribly amused.

"Stay there. It's gonna be safer for you."

"You must help your princess -" Hardison's phone suddenly went dark, the line lost.

[likeamothtofame]

ཐིཋྀ || about / promo

"What, what, what do you want? No, I'm not talking to you, amorcito," he quickly covers the speaker on his phone with a palm, casting you a hateful glare that makes you feel exceptionally small. He takes a long drag from the cigarillo holder in his third free hand before exhaling the heavy smoke through his teeth in your face. "You. What the fuck do you want? I'm obviously busy. What, wanna make some money? Oh...oh! Why didn't you say anything?" He abruptly hangs up the call he'd been taking moments before without looking away from you. "Here, c'mon. I might have just the job for someone with a face like yours..."

[OOC under the cut.]

yep. it's another valentino blog. for roleplay, askblog, or just general dicking around IC purposes. obviously occasional NSFW, minors DNI, all that jazz. feel free to send me just about anything, i don't bite! :]

my main is @captainowlin, and i'll follow/send asks from there. if you need to refer to me OOC for any reason feel free to just call me captain/capn, or whatever really. i'm chill like that. my pronouns are they/them and i'm 20 years old if you're curious about any of that stuff.

just getting the obligatory disclaimer out of the way, i don't condone or endorse anything valentino does. doesn't mean i'm just gonna avoid it, i'm going to do my best to stay as in-character and that includes the good and bad. i'd be happy to alter things to my partner's boundaries of course! just hit me up however and let me know where the line sits because otherwise i'm just gonna let val be val.

in terms of DNI, like i said no minors please, this page is gonna be pretty heavily NSFW considering the fact that it's valentino. no valangel, but like, in the sense of romanticizing their situation. i am on my knees begging angel dust rp'ers to interact 🙇‍♂️

i am totally open to pretty much all and any ships, as long as they aren't making light of some nasty mess, y'know how it be.

oc friendly of course! i love interacting with peoples' ocs.

i don't care about stuff like "but how would they meet in canon", hell i don't care if our characters are from completely different sources. i like interacting with everyone!

i roleplay in a semi-para/para format, and would like to receive similar effort but i don't care about the length of replies matching. just don't give me one liners because i do not work well with those lmao

this is also just a casual ask blog! not every ask has to turn into a whole thing, i'd love some anons just rapid firing questions. i also might reblog random posts that just seem like something val would like. i don't take this whole thing THAT seriously if you can't tell.

this is stupidly long so i'll stop for now, but if you have any questions at all please feel free to ask! i'm much nicer than val is ;]

P.S. i am pretty newly into the hellaverse in its entirety so... be patient with me i guess. i'm not a veteran fan of all this lol just a fan of this freakazoid in particular

[misscammiedawn]

ok but how am I supposed to flirt with/compliment/be sweet at only one of y'all in your inbox? you have to know that isn't going to happen.

Camden: I'm looking forward to the next time we can just sit and talk and be vulnerable with each other. Also, we should get back to sharing media with each other - especially the media that we both find so formative <3

Cammie: Oh, sweetling? I have such plans for you in 30 short days. I am going to enjoy bespelling you, captivating you, melting you into a somft, obedient puddle

Craig: thank you for sharing the Euros with me, love. I wish they'd ended better. It meant so much that you *wanted* to include me in that, even when you were watching with people in physical space. I can't wait until our next chance to just sit and share hot drinks (and maybe some fruit pastilles) and just *be* together

Dawn: Oh, so many ways to flirt - to be all bratty at you, knowing you know why I brat. Or to be sweet and docile for you, showing how eager I can be to let you in... oh, my love, my Fae, how I adore you.

Wynn: Watching you (and Cammie) play Hollow Knight has been a joy and delight. You continually impress me with your skill and determination, and getting to understand *you* over the last couple of months has been a joy and delight. You are so much more than "these circumstances", and I'm glad you're getting to explore what that means for you, now

u9iey9eugfuifeguiehfioiehionjdbsiligbiloefbuilupbfuiperp

MISSS?!?!?!?!?!?!

I--

*Blushes and whimpering* I am speechless! You have me wordless! I CANNOT WORDS!!!

So--- uh-- I wish everyone were awake and able to just rapid fire a reply for each compliment-- but I can at least compliment you in turn!

The relationship that we have built is the most slow and deliberate courtship of our life with understanding and communication at the center of everything-- our friendship was built over years and years finding one another over and over again as the communities we shared were built and destroyed and there's something so beautiful about the way we rolled in and out of one another's radars for years until the point of which we found each other offline-- I don't think either of us knew how BIG that meeting was when it happened-- you were the first person outside of Oikos to greet me to the IRL community on the very week that we came out as trans and it made us feel so included and part of the new world we found

To think that was only 2 months before COVID lockdowns--- we originally weren't even going to go to that event, we were going to spend "more time in the oven" and debut at the Chicago event later in the year-- I am glad we are in the timeline we are in

I know I've tried to find words for how much you mean to us (up to and including my fictional declarations of affection in Madison/Belladonna) and I'll never stop-- I'll learn your languages and take time to understand why you think and feel as you do and to give space and accommodation and grow with you-- earlier we reblogged a thing about soul mates not being a gift but forged and you and I forge these things so carefully and with such intention-- I never ever ever feel like what we do is work though

You don't cost spoons

I'm not afraid of you

--and given how wounded and scared I was when we began dating-- that means a lot--

I wanna finish the enchanted forest books, I wanna do more trivia, I wanna share more games, I wanna do more shenanigans and teach more classes and travel to more cities and see more shows and build more memories

I love you Daja

I love you so so so much and you are the kindest and most enthusiastic human I've ever seen! The way you just glow with passion and take care of your humans and share your resources and knowledge and heart?

Just-- YOU

YOU!!!!

Also on insistence of the Fae: "Ding!"

[misfits-of-zaun]

Munday writing detail meme

Repost, don't reblog.

Feel free to edit/add your own parts!

Name: Cónan

Age range: under 18 | between 18 and 25 | 25 and older

Pronouns: they/them

Random fact about me: I really enjoyed Fallout 4 and I'm looking forward to the live-action show being released this month 👀

When it comes to planning threads: I like to wing it completely | I like to plan the start of the thread | I like to plan several key points in the thread | I like to plan every reply | It depends

Pre-established relationships between muses: I enjoy them | I like them occasionally but mostly prefer to play the relationship out | I don't do pre-established relationships

When it comes to replies, I like to: Keep mine short (1-2 paragraphs) | Keep mine to medium length (3 - 6 paragraphs) | Keep my replies long (7+ paragraphs) | It depends

I generally try to reply in: 1 day | 3 days | A week | Within a month | More than a month

I like getting asks for memes I reblogged a long time ago: Yes* | No | Depends

*There's no time limitation on any rp ask memes I've ever reblogged - if you see a rp meme I reblogged seven years ago and you like it, you can send me an ask for it. Just link to whichever meme it's from so that I know the context haha.

I like getting random IC asks from my mutuals: Yes | No | Depends*

*You can send asks, just provide context or be willing to discuss potential scenarios, please, so I know the angle to take with my reply!

I like getting tagged in unplanned starters from my mutuals: Yes | No | Depends*

Is the starter idea based off anything we've discussed before? Is the starter based off a scenario wishlist post you saw I made/a rp prompt I reblogged once? If so, go for it. If not, just pop me a DM and say "hey, I had an idea about X scenario and figured it would be fun to do a thread for it with our characters, would you be down if I wrote up a starter/sent you this meme?"

I like getting getting OOC asks from my mutuals to plan our threads: Yes!* | No | Depends

*(I absolutely love discussing thread ideas and planning things out. Please share your thoughts, don't be afraid to assert your preferences and make suggestions - frankly there is nothing better to me than someone who knows what they want and is keen to collaborate with me to create a fun story we both enjoy!)

I like getting getting OOC asks from my mutuals just to chat about things not related to RP: Yes | No | Depends

I enjoy writing: angst, hurt/comfort, adventure, post-apocalyptic/dystopian AUs, Modern AUs, What-If Scenarios/canon-divergent AUs, crossovers, dark themes, complex relationship dynamics, NSFW themes, slow burns, long term plotlines exploring how adversity drives character development (for better or worse), plotted threads, novella threads

I don't enjoy writing: slice of life, fluff, short-form/rapid-fire rps, sweet wholesome romances with no conflict or wider storyline, Canon x OC romances, improv threads with no OOC communication

My favourite tropes are: redemption arcs, corruption arcs, power struggles, found family, childhood friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, fake relationships, mutual pining, enemies forced to work together

Opinion on shipping (for a specific character or in general): Anyone can ship whatever they want and write whatever they want, I don't care lol. Romance isn't one of my primary interests when it comes to RPing, but if a character dynamic has interesting potential, and someone proposes a compelling plot idea, I'll give a ship a go

¯\ _(ツ)_/¯

I get inspired to write by doing this: listening to music, reading, watching TV, playing video games, discussing headcanons and AU ideas OOC

One of my favourite threads/drabbles/etc:

This thread from Game Of Diplomacy AU* remains to be one of my favourite things I've ever written. It has a high stakes power struggle with tension you can cut with a knife, it has angst and conflict with counterbalancing moments of levity, it is deliciously dark and the clever verbal sparring challenged me in a really refreshing way, keeping me on my toes. I think it contains some of my best writing to date.

*This AU gained a surprisingly big following - it even has its own fanart! Years later my writing partner and I still get occasional asks about it/people still go on like sprees through the threads, which is really sweet. I am forever mindblown and deeply touched that so many people have enjoyed this random niche rarepair story my partner and I wrote for fun.

I'm also very proud of this Arcane rp thread, which sparked off a whole AU that my writing partner and I are still actively developing and enjoying two years later.

A writing partner (or partners!) I've enjoyed writing with: shoutout to @f1shbonez for writing with me for ten years, across four different platforms and over 12 different fandoms. You are the best damn writing partner I've ever had, a true unicorn, a plotting genius, a master wordsmith with razor wit - I have grown so much a writer and as a person because of you. We have created so many incredible stories together that I cherish and reread to this day, and I look forward to all the new stories we will create together 💜

A mutual I want to write with but haven't yet: if we're mutuals, suffice to say that I like your writing style and I'm open to writing with you.

I'm not always the best at getting the ball rolling at the beginning (and sometimes I do forget to reply to messages 🙈 please don't think it's you, I just get too embarrassed to reply after I realise I left it too long, I'm so sorry 💀)

But generally speaking, whether we've never spoken or we spoke a bit 7 months ago and things kind of stalled/fizzled out, you’re always welcome to pop me a message and toss a meme in my inbox.

Tagging: you, reading this post right now. Yes, you. You've been officially tagged.

[dyaz-stories]

Okayyy I've been meaning to reblog this for a while to tell you just how much I loved it, so here it comes!

First of all as someone who finds kissing scenes particularly hard to write give me smut, give me fighting scenes, but I can only come up with so many ways to refer to hands/tongues/lips I think you absolutely hit that one out of the park. It all feels very intense, and I love how physical it all is, and yet very personal at the same time, like it's not generic at all, it has to be about the characters you're describing. You said in the tag that it felt like a character study and I'm 100% with you on that, and you nailed it absolutely!!

A surprise favorite of mine i'm basic i came here for gojo lol was Yuuji's part! I think I enjoyed it particularly because of how it contrasts with the other parts but also it's such good characterization!! Like yes golden retriever Yuuji, etc. but that boy has a competitive streak and I love that you went with that, made him be all strategic while the other boys aren't. I wasn't expecting it but the second I read it I was like 'omg yes this makes so much sense!!' and I've been obsessed with it since!

Rapid-fire things I enjoyed: love how impatient Gojo is. He is used to getting his way and it shows. Also really like the playfulness in his part! Also loved the way you threaded the predator-prey metaphor (?? do you say that in English lol) throughout Yuta's piece ("for you to run", "caging you", "caught you"). Loveeee the reader's teasing in Choso's part, his subby characterization and in general just reading his POV and his longing. I've already spoken about Yuuji's part, but I love that the reader gets so overwhelmed, and the cocky reaction at the end aaaahhh so good! Last but not least, I love that Megumi's barely even playing lol, feels very on brand for him, how matter-of-factly he does it once he's had his fill and is ready for something more.

Thank you for sharing your writing with us on this piece! Totally get why the format would not be your favorite, but I'd definitely read more of these character studies!

Some favorite lines:

his palms cupping your cheeks, forcing your jaw open for him to lick at your tongue.

You crane your neck away, but you’re still within his reach, and now you’ve presented the perfect canvas for him.

The sound of his name from your lips is sweet torture, as is the way you trail your kisses up his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear.

Kissing up your neck, at your cheek, then your lips, and you find yourself sighing into his touch, balling your hands into fists to avoid the temptation of cupping his face.  + Then he pulls back, leaving you breathless, tilting his head up to kiss your forehead and flashing you a grin that’s equal parts boyish and wicked with intent, “I win.” 

He indulges in the back and forth for a while, sighs into your kisses, groans when you nip at him.

CAN’T KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF (I MEAN I COULD, BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO?) — JJK BOYS + TOO HOT

featuring. gojo, okkotsu, choso, itadori, fushiguro

content, warnings. playing too hot with the jjk boys—(too hot is a party game in which two people kiss while keeping their hands to themselves; the first person to touch their partner loses), making out, tongue sucking, uhhh slight predator/prey in yuuta’s oops, they’re a bunch of losers to be honest, there’s a word for the thing yuuji does but i don't know it lolol

word count. 1.6k

SATORU GOJO Satoru is prideful, but you also know that he is nothing if not handsy, borderline clingy on his worst days. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, he’s rarely not touching you when you’re in his proximity, and when you aren’t, he closes that gap—so you’re confident that he’ll lose this game. 

And he does. It takes ninety-two seconds for Satoru to put his hands on you; his palms cupping your cheeks, forcing your jaw open for him to lick at your tongue. You yelp in surprise, try to take in your victory, taunt that you’ve won, but Satoru’s playing an entirely different game now. “I know, I lost,” he pushes his thumbs at the corners of your mouth, parting your lips and staring at your open mouth. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, drinks in your pliant expression, the soft touch of your fingers around his wrists, the feel of your body sinking below him, and he smiles, “But I want something else right now. Indulge me?” 

You tap at his right wrist and he moves his thumbs away from your lips, stroking against the soft skin of your cheeks instead so you can speak, “You lost, you’re not supposed to make demands.” 

“Take pity on a rookie like me, won’t you?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to kiss your cheek, then closer, just below your bottom lip, “Please, sweets?” 

“Depends on what you want,” you pout, but your words are strained against Satoru’s kisses. He grins, guiding a thumb back to your lips, this time pressing past the barrier of your lips until they’re wrapped around his digit, smile turning cheshire when he feels you sucking, “I have a different game we can play instead.” 

YUUTA OKKOTSU “Ah, ah—” you pull away from Yuuta, much to his dismay, pulling the hem of your shirt from his grasp, “That counts as touching. You’re not supposed to touch, Yuuta.” 

He’s looking at you intensely, gaze bordering on predatory, slow blinking with blown-out pupils. He nods shallowly, moving his hand from where it was to your side, palm pressing into the couch next to your thigh; it lets him that much closer to you, the tip of his nose grazing yours, you can feel his laborious breaths tickle your lips. Yuuta tilts his head ever so slightly and pauses, blinks, waits—for you to make a sound, for you to tell him no again, for you to run. 

You don’t. He shifts his weight and positions his other hand to rest at your side, caging you between his arms, slotting you underneath his gaze. You curl underneath him, backing up until you’re pressed against the arm of the couch, until Yuuta’s crawled to slot his knee between your legs. You crane your neck away, but you’re still within his reach, and now you’ve presented the perfect canvas for him. He dips his head into your collarbone, leaves a deceptively soft kiss there before nosing up the expanse of your exposed skin and sinking his teeth into your neck. 

Yuuta feels you tense underneath him, body going rigid in a moment of surprise, and then slacking with an exhaled moan, like a bitten bunny. Reflexively, your hands find purchase in his hair, and Yuuta nips over the tender skin, and smiles, “Caught you.” 

CHOSO KAMO “You’re nervous,” you conclude, pulling away from the shallow kiss Choso gave you. 

Beside you, he’s flushed, a hand coming up to reach at the back of his neck as he replies, “I don’t know why,” he exhales, “It’s just... weird to not touch you. I have to think about not touching you, and that means I have to think, which tends to make me, you know... nervous.” 

You giggle, leaning in closer to him, careful not to touch; careful to keep your hips raised above his, even as you straddle him, keep your arms and hands at your sides even though the instinct is to wrap them around Choso’s neck. He doesn’t pull back, even though he should; you like that he doesn’t. “You don’t like to think about me?” 

“No—no! Not like that,” he’s too loud for the proximity, sighing in embarrassment shortly after; you’re too close, way too close, and he’s not supposed to touch, but he wants to—Choso doesn’t like this feeling of restraint, of constriction; it’s too close to when he had a hopeless crush on you, to when he was pining and praying you’d spare him the time of day. Isn’t the point of dating that he gets to have you? To touch you, to hold you—to not hold back? 

“Because I like to think about you,” you admit, leaning in even closer, pressing a kiss to the base of Choso’s neck—and he whines, “I think about you a lot, Choso.” 

The sound of his name from your lips is sweet torture, as is the way you trail your kisses up his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear. Choso’s certain he’s going to rip a hole in his jeans with how taut he’s pulling them between his fists. This isn’t fair—nothing about this is fair. “I don’t want to play anymore,” Choso whines, eyes screwing shut when you suck a hickey onto his collar.

“But we’ve only just started,” you giggle against his skin, “And nobody’s won yet.”

Choso bites his lips, his knuckles are sore, his resolve is weak, and you smell good, you feel good—and he can’t do this. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care; he didn’t make you yours to try and stay away from you. So, Choso gives in, unwinds his fists, places one hand on your waist, and the other against your back, pulling you flush against him, and burying his face in your neck. 

“There, I lose,” he grumbles, not caring for your laughter reverberating against his chest, “Now I can touch you as much as I want.” 

YUUJI ITADORI “Th—this isn’t fair,” you tremble, attempting to move away from his kisses, but you’re caged in between Yuuji and the wall. There’s nowhere for you to run, nothing for you to grab purchase onto but Yuuji—nothing to do but lose. 

“I didn’t hear any rules against this,” he feigns innocence, suckling at your skin, “Think it’s fair game.”

You close your eyes, trying to focus on something, anything else, but it’s hard when all you can see, all you can feel is Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji. Kissing up your neck, at your cheek, then your lips, and you find yourself sighing into his touch, balling your hands into fists to avoid the temptation of cupping his face. 

Yuuji moans when he feels your tongue against his, kisses you back fervently, swirling his tongue across yours and into the cavity of your mouth. He inhales all your breaths, makes it impossible for you to do anything but succumb to his kiss, to swallow his moans, to take everything he gives you. You didn’t expect Yuuji to have this much resolve—you’d anticipated a short, cute round of a silly party game, but you should have known better; Yuuji has never lost a challenge before, and you were naive, at best, to think otherwise.

Predictably, it’s you that lets go first, whining when Yuuji sucks on your tongue, hands trembling and reaching to hold him, to cling to him as some kind of recourse, unable to squirm or move anywhere else. That doesn’t stop him—Yuuji only sucks harder, only forces more moans out of you until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and bending your knees, weak. 

Then he pulls back, leaving you breathless, tilting his head up to kiss your forehead and flashing you a grin that’s equal parts boyish and wicked with intent, “I win.” 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO It’s the kind of thing he usually turns down; cliché, fruitless, and unnecessarily time-consuming; but it’s you, so he makes the exception. You’re too eager, positioning yourself to sit on your hands, your legs folded under your knees, peering up at him from where he’s sat slack against the couch, and he thinks you look awful cute on your knees for him.

“Okay, ready?” you smile, “Three, two—” but Megumi already knows his plan, already has his lips on yours before you can say “one,” drinking in your surprised yelp and greedily licking against your tongue when you part your lips to kiss him back. He turns his body towards you slightly, taking advantage of his height and position to bully you into chasing him upwards, to push his tongue into your mouth with ease. 

He indulges in the back and forth for a while, sighs into your kisses, groans when you nip at him. It’s when you pull away, that Megumi decides he’s played along long enough; when he can see your chest swell with heaving breaths, see your hands in your lap, neck craned and spit-slick lips that drive him to reach for you. He’s less than gentle, hands finding purchase on your hips, and forcefully pulling you into his lap, ignoring your yelping, choosing to turn them into moans when he sinks his teeth into your neck. Megumi licks, and bites, and bites, and bites, until he’s certain he’s left a mark, until he feels your hands tugging at his hair and giving him permission to splay his palms against your back and buck you forward.  

“I lose,” he hums, soothing over raw bitten skin with open-mouthed kisses, “So, how do you wanna punish me?”

[timeloop-observer]

welcome to my hyperfixation hell.

~ about me ~

> name's ari, you might know me better as @the-timewatcher though (or @timewatchertunes on youtube if you're weird)

> 20-something nonbinary (they/them) with brain worms for meta stuff and good game design

> timezone's cet/gmt+1 (or cest/gmt+2 in the warmer seasons, CURSE YOU DAYLIGHT SAVINGS)

> this blog started bc my Sheer Blinding Normalcy about these games is too much by now

> i'm not above swearing and write in lowercase unless it's for emphasis or for Proper Essay Purposes, get adjusted quick

~ about the game(s) ~

> the blog is centered on In Stars And Time, but will also feature content from/about START AGAIN: a prologue, its prototype/better demo than the actual demo don't @ me

> they're both rpgs by the ever-wonderous INSERTDISC5 (not gonna @ her on this thing) about a fella getting stuck in a time loop at the tail end of an unseen jrpg adventure (i don't think i need to specify, but the time loop also Stands For Some Things)

> the art is striking, the music is bopping, the gameplay has some of the best ludonarrative harmony ever and the story/writing/characters are immaculate, especially with how they can seamlessly give you fun comedy, the warm fuzzies, The Horrors and intense gutpunches of raw emotion in rapid succession!

> that being said, it has a content warning page for a reason - it's not for the faint of heart, though there's not any cheap jumpscares

> also the ludonarrative harmony i mentioned often comes at the expense of gameplay being all that riveting later on, so don't expect to rpg the daylights out of this rpg,

> othewise, if you're still interested and somehow haven't played it yet, go check it out! in particular i would recommend getting a taste of it online though - the one thing i will criticize about it is the first 45 mins of the game as is (or just start again, which you should check out regardless of it being a prototype) would work far better as a demo than the actual demo

~ about the blog ~

> like my main, probably skewing towards rapid fire reblogs

> sometimes i'll even reblog things that aren't explicitly about isat if i feel like they fit here

> will spoiler tag the following:

#isat spoilers - anything from act 2 onwards that would give away the game's main plot

#start again spoilers - mostly about the game's main endings, since it's so brief spoilertagging the middle would be like giving a sandwich a halfway break

#isat achievement spoilers - for sidequests that aren't required for the main plot, with the exception of

#twohat spoilers - without specifying what this means exactly, if you only saw one hat at the game's credits, filter this tag out

> #usual day in siffrin's torment nexus is for anything with canon typical content warnings. on reblogs, this will be the only tag specifying these things, unless there's also canon-atypical cws to worry about (ex. you won't see it next to #cw children in peril on a reblog, but you might on an original post, or on a reblog next to #cw gore)

> will only tag in greater specificity (canon typical content warnings, character specific tags, etc.) on original content, since the algorithm side of things on tumblr doesn't bother much with rbs

> will tag my ships (different strokes for different folks in the fanbase, i understand), but i'm not here to start discourse. if i catch you clowning about what pairings feature on here, i'll tell you to touch grass and block.

> for original posts, expect shitposts, analysis/gushing, some original writery and maybe a smidgen of art or music if inspiration strikes

> feel free to shoot asks, submissions and dms at me, but i apologize if i'm slow to respond...

[lunarmaden]

heya ✌️ i'm tav / fable, i'm 23 years old, my timezone is est, i've been in the rpc for ~10 years, and you could pour soup in my lap and i'd probably apologize to you. if the way these are worded makes me sound a little harsh, it isn't meant to come off that way!! i've just been in the rpc for too long to be vague or lenient. that said, a few rapid-fire rules before we get into the lengthier ones that actually need explaining:

— don't follow me if you're any sort of phobic towards any group of people. — mun =/= muse, i don't condone everything my muses do, you get the drill. — vagueposting / guiltposting is an instant block from me. it's not cute. we're all adults here, let's communicate and act like it. — don't rush me for replies, period. rushing me for a thread at all will result in me flat out dropping it.

[ 1 ] for blogs that i can’t see myself interacting with, i will soft block you to keep my followers clean. personal blogs will be hard blocked immediately unless a sideblog is attached to it and i can easily see that your personal blog is a hub. note that it will take me a little while sometimes to decide if i want to follow back. give me a few days at a minimum. do not unfollow and follow again and again to get my attention. i will just hard block you and call it a day.

[ 2 ] i'm neutral on callouts. if i see them and think the proof provided in it is actually valid, then i'll reblog it under my psa tag and leave it at that, no further discussion. it will not go under "drama tw" or anything of the sort, because if it's serious enough, it isn't petty drama. it's a genuine warning passed to other members of the community so they can make their own opinions about. that said, i also believe people can change. if there is proof of that, then i see no reason to hold past mistakes over someone's head.

[ 3 ] i will only write with 18+ muns. if you follow me and are a minor or your age is not listed clearly on your blog, i will soft block you immediately. do not lie to me about your age, you will be hard blocked if i find out.

on a similar but less serious note, i also don't follow if i can't immediately see an alias. just...kinda wanna know who i'm following, is all.

[ 4 ] i get that plotting is kinda important for some people!! however, rarely will i ever fully plot a thread, and i heavily prefer using memes to interact. now, plotting for the general vibe of the thread and dynamic between characters? absolutely!! but frankly, if i relied on completely plotting threads, i'd kill my creativity and get even less done than i already do. i'm here for a fun time, not a stressful and / or long time, so please be aware.

[ 5 ] speaking of relying on memes, send me several at a time! you're probably more likely to get a response if you give me variety to work with. if i get a meme i don't think i can work with, i'll probably send several back to you to make up for it. just so things don't feel lopsided or something.

[ 6 ] i am 23 and valynn is an adult ( even though elven ages are... a little weird ), so nsfw content is likely to show up here in some capacity. when it does, it'll be tagged as "nsfw //" ( or "suggestive //" if it's only implied ). however, i'm likely only going to write those topics with people i'm close to.

[ 7 ] anon hate is cringe, so if you send it, it won't get a response from me unless it's to make fun of you. at this point i expect most of us to know not to answer it seriously otherwise the sender is just being encouraged, so if i keep seeing it being answered / talked about on the dash ( unless it's being poked fun at ), i'm probably just going to soft block for my sake because. y'know, you didn't wanna get the negativity, i don't wanna see that negativity, etcetera.

on that note, untagged negativity will also lead to me unfollowing. untagged posts in general will lead to me unfollowing if it's a frequent thing, honestly.

[ 8 ] with how difficult tumblr has made it as of late to properly source things, i have become significantly more lenient when it comes to people reblogging memes and musings from me, as long as it isn't like several posts in a row. that said, i expect this understanding to be mutual. i'll always try to reblog from the source if i can, but if not, it'll just have to come from whoever slapped it on the dash.

[ 9 ] if you need something tagged, tell me! i’ll do my best to remember to tag what i need to, but please remind me if i happen to forget. the system i use is just "trigger //". now, if you use fancy tags for nsfw posts or posts that otherwise need a trigger warning and refuse to adjust if confronted about it, that's getting a hard block. it isn't difficult to be respectful of what people need tagged. the refusal to do so for your aesthetic is kinda fucked.

as for what i need tagged, all i ask is that visuals of sunflowers are tagged appropriately. i would also appreciate detailed mentions of terminal illness being tagged, specifically cancer, but that's more of a squick than a trigger, so that one is less of a problem.

[ 10 ] obligatory "let's just have fun" rule here. we're all on this hellsite to write our silly little guys, it really isn't that serious. just be decent, and we'll be chill!!

[tavwrote]

heya ✌️ i'm tav, i'm 23 years old, my timezone is est, i've been in the rpc for ~10 years, and you could pour soup in my lap and i'd probably apologize to you. if the way these are worded makes me sound a little harsh, it isn't meant to come off that way!! i've just been in the rpc for too long to be vague or lenient. that said, a few rapid-fire rules before we get into the lengthier ones that actually need explaining:

— don't follow me if you're any sort of phobic towards any group of people. — mun =/= muse, i don't condone everything my muses do, you get the drill. — vagueposting / guiltposting is an instant block from me. it's not cute. we're all adults here, let's communicate and act like it. — don't rush me for replies, period. rushing me for a thread at all will result in me flat out dropping it. — there are both irl and animated faceclaims to be found here. if you aren't chill with that, don't follow. — if you ship kaeya and diluc or are otherwise "indifferent" to it / people who write it, that's also a block. let's not be gross, please.

[ 1 ] for blogs that i can’t see myself interacting with, i will soft block you to keep my followers clean. personal blogs will be hard blocked immediately unless a sideblog is attached to it and i can easily see that your personal blog is a hub. note that i rarely follow first ( unless you're someone i'm already comfortable with ), and it will take me a little while sometimes to decide if i want to follow back. give me a few days at a minimum. do not unfollow and follow again and again to get my attention. i will just hard block you and call it a day.

[ 2 ] i'm neutral on callouts. if i see them and think the proof provided in it is actually valid, then i'll reblog it under my psa tag and leave it at that, no further discussion. it will not go under "drama tw" or anything of the sort, because if it's serious enough, it isn't petty drama. it's a genuine warning passed to other members of the community so they can make their own opinions about. that said, i also believe people can change. if there is proof of that, then i see no reason to hold past mistakes over someone's head.

[ 3 ] i softblock liberally if i feel it necessary, but "necessary" never means i have a personal problem with you, promise. that's reserved for hardblocking, aka personals and the exceptions. on the off chance you think maybe tumblr has un-mutualized us because there was a rare glitch in this perfect website's code, feel free to follow again or even just ask me about it, i don't mind.

[ 4 ] i will only write with 18+ muns. if you follow me and are a minor or your age is not listed clearly on your blog, i will soft block you immediately. do not lie to me about your age, you will be hard blocked if i find out.

on a similar but less serious note, i also don't follow if i can't immediately see an alias. just...kinda wanna know who i'm following, is all.

[ 5 ] i get that plotting is kinda important for some people!! however, rarely will i ever fully plot a thread, and i heavily prefer using memes to interact. now, plotting for the general vibe of the thread and dynamic between characters? absolutely!! but frankly, if i relied on completely plotting threads, i'd kill my creativity and get even less done than i already do. i'm here for a fun time, not a stressful and / or long time, so please be aware.

[ 6 ] speaking of relying on memes, send me several at a time! you're probably more likely to get a response if you give me variety to work with. if i get a meme i don't think i can work with, i'll probably send several back to you to make up for it. just so things don't feel lopsided or something.

[ 7 ] when sending in memes, remember to specify who you want. if you don't specify or don't message me somehow to let me know who you want for that ask, it will not get answered.

[ 8 ] i'm not going to pretend like there aren't people who i will prioritize responses to. that's not me being "clique-y", that's me being comfortable with people i've known for ages. if you think otherwise or have that jealous roleplayer mindset, leave. leave so fast. yikes.

[ 9 ] i am 23 and all of my muses are adults, so nsfw content is likely to show up here in some capacity. when it does, it'll be tagged as "nsfw //" ( or "suggestive //" if it's only implied ). however, i'm likely only going to write those topics with people i'm close to, and even then, very rarely.

[ 10 ] anon hate is cringe, so if you send it, it won't get a response from me unless it's to make fun of you. at this point i expect most of us to know not to answer it seriously otherwise the sender is just being encouraged, so if i keep seeing it being answered / talked about on the dash ( unless it's being poked fun at ), i'm probably just going to soft block for my sake because. y'know, you didn't wanna get the negativity, i don't wanna see that negativity, etcetera.

on that note, untagged negativity will also lead to me unfollowing. untagged posts in general will lead to me unfollowing if it's a frequent thing, honestly.

[ 11 ] with how difficult tumblr has made it as of late to properly source things, i have become significantly more lenient when it comes to people reblogging memes and musings from me, as long as it isn't like several posts in a row. that said, i expect this understanding to be mutual. i'll always try to reblog from the source if i can, but if not, it'll just have to come from whoever slapped it on the dash.

[ 12 ] if you need something tagged, tell me! i’ll do my best to remember to tag what i need to, but please remind me if i happen to forget. the system i use is just "trigger //". now, if you use fancy tags for nsfw posts or posts that otherwise need a trigger warning and refuse to adjust if confronted about it, that's getting a hard block. it isn't difficult to be respectful of what people need tagged. the refusal to do so for your aesthetic is kinda fucked.

as for what i need tagged, all i ask is that visuals of sunflowers are tagged appropriately. i would also appreciate detailed mentions of terminal illness being tagged, specifically cancer, but that's more of a squick than a trigger, so that one is less of a problem.

[ 13 ] obligatory "let's just have fun" rule here, we're all on this hellsite to write our silly little guys, it really isn't that serious. just be decent, and we'll be chill!!

[theohnocorral]

My phone started buzzing with tons of notifications and I look over to see why and it was because you were attacking people with pumpkins. I’m not even mad, this is amazing and gave me a good laugh

Show them no mercy

You get notifications from me?!?!!!?????

LMAO!

[nevermindirah]

game thingy: 🎢 🎯 🤗 <3

Hiiiiiiiiiii <33333333333

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

I think I have to give this one to you have the right to lose control. The rapid-fire veering between friends-to-lovers fluff and politics and cameos with all that kink in between is hilariously chaotic looking back on it. No impulse control, just like Nile!

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

Oooooooooh this is such a good question! I'm not thinking of a specific instance so I might have to come back to this. 🤔

Well, there's all those times you and I have been tossing around ideas and I'm trying to draw out the suspense and you start screaming ARE THEY GONNA KISS

Because yes. They're gonna kiss. They're always gonna kiss.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Write things that bring you joy! Write things that you enjoy thinking about while you're writing them, because sentence structure and word choice and all that mechanics stuff is a bitch and no matter how much you love a story it'll get frustrating sometimes, so it's important to enjoy lots of aspects of the writing to counterbalance the inevitable annoying parts.

Take shortcuts! I recently put a post in my queue about "not sure how to transition one scene to the next? don't write a transition at all, throw us into the next scene, just put a little separator bar in between them, readers will go with it!" This is GREAT advice. Writing's a craft that you build over time, and even when you have a ton of experience and skill, sometimes you want a story to exist but you don't have the energy to make it everything you can imagine it could be, and that's totally ok! Write the parts you're most excited about and string them together with the laziest most formulaic one-sentence explanation of what could otherwise be several chapters if that's what you need to do. Zero shame. This is a hobby

Sometimes it's wonderful to stretch yourself and do things the hard way. I'd never written anything longer than a few thousand words when I started writing I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore and I bit off WAY more than I could chew with that story. Looking back now, with all the experience I've gained in the past almost 2 years and over a hundred thousand more words, there's a lot I would do differently — but writing that fic is how I learned the things that I brought to everything I've written since. If you've got an idea for a story that feels too big for your abilities, it might work best for you to put it on hold and try some easier things first, or it might work best to write the essence of it with lots of shortcuts, or the time might be right to stretch yourself. You don't ever have to stretch yourself if you don't want to. If you decide you want to, and you have the energy to devote to what might be a long process, I can tell you it's rewarding as hell.

Most of all, write things you want to read! I absolutely adore comments and reblogs and screaming messages but my number one audience is me. This is crucial for me as a person with ADHD — there is absolutely no amount of external reward or punishment that can hold a candle to that internal sense of "OOH SHINY" in terms of causing me to accomplish a task. I've struggled for a long time in many parts of my life with following through on long-term projects, and it's been honestly pretty healing for me to get to read and re-read my own fics and soak up the satisfaction of having completed something that I now get to enjoy.

Writing gifts and stuff like that for other people is a lovely part of the social stuff of fandom but you may never get the amount or kinds of validation you might want for your writing. That's nothing against you, hypothetical writer just starting out, that's because sometimes people are too tired to leave a comment on your fic they loved, or they might not say the words you were hoping to hear, any number of things that aren't personal but still can be a bummer when you're waiting for those AO3 comment emails. But no matter what feedback you do or don't get from others, you'll always have the pleasure of experiencing as a reader what you've made as a writer. Hey look, this super cool person named Past Me wrote these fics all about my favorite characters with only my favorite tropes and none of my squicks, fuck yeah!

[jenroses]

Remember back in 2016 when I wrote a Big Bang thing for Merlin and I got randomly paired with @procoffeinating and the art was 100% amazeballs?

Well, after spending a couple months writing 180k worth of story for Pocketful of Soul, a CQL-based, Mo Xuanyu-centric time travel story, I decided to reward myself by commissioning art. There are three pieces, this is the first.

This is from Chapter 3, and depicts Mo Xuanyu holding a hand out to Jiang Yanli's ghost, while Wen Qing looks on. They're surrounded by the spirits of the Wen Remnants. They are in a field near Nightless City and you can see the Fire Palace in the background.

Jiang Yanli has one hand full of pieces of Wei Wuxian's shattered, scattered soul.

I am absolutely enchanted by the depiction of Mo Xuanyu, wearing WWX's robe that is a little too big, a little baggy, a little tattered, his face softer, a little rounder in the cheeks and chin, but still closely resembling WWX. It was possibly the most challenging part of the assignment, to make him look different but not-too-different. This is forever what my mental image of him will be.

Anyway, Procoffeinating, as always, understood the assignment absolutely perfectly.

Because this work was for Fandom Trumps Hate, and I not only wanted Procoffeinating's specifically amazing art, but I wanted to use this to help directly support several artists related to causes dear to my heart, I'm asking that if you like this or other of Procoffeinating's work, and you are able, that you go offer some kofi love. If you do, let me know via DM here or on Twitter how much you gave, and I'll match that with some more art for the story. Even tiny donations will get something from me, I have a very long list of places small art could be added. (I did pay for this piece, more than asked, but it deserves more, and I'm willing to put my own effort toward that. Mostly I want to see lots of people tell J how amazing the art is.)

From J's Twitter:

j/queer/ broke fanartist and cat owner, https://ko-fi.com/procoffeinating

I hit an alt text limit, for those who are using screen readers, in addition to everything mentioned in the alt text, over this misty, moody image, on the left side, is a hazy lighter panel (it only covers someone in a dark robe seen from the waist down, it was a requested title space). And over that panel is the title, Pocketful of Soul in a font that seeps black curling tendrils like resentful energy, limned in red. Under it, in a less curly but still decorative font (think rapid brush strokes, almost cursive, kind of pointy, with long downward strokes but minimal ornamentation) in a drop-shadowed black, it says "by Jenrose, art by Procoffeinating."

I highly recommend trawling through @procoffeinating's Tumblr for amazing art in many fandoms. Just keep going, there's Merlin and Good Omens in there, among other things. Twitter has some newer stuff.

Please reblog, do not repost. Posted with permission. The graphic design elements are mine, the art is 100% Procoffeinating's.

The next image from Procoffeinating will be up in about a month, give or take, and will knock your goddamn socks off. It involves culturally accurate babywearing but also absolutely perfect character drawings. Y'all, I cried. (I have the final version in hand but it's for Part 5, and like, 20 chapters from what I've already posted.)

[hella-free-space]

It was 11 balloon animals and I enjoyed every single one. Thank you for posting them on your blog that's for you to post the stuff you like... bc it's your blog. I'm sorry I'm offended on your behalf bc if you don't like it?? There's the door?

sweet, sweet, blessed anon that i love so very much. (also i’m glad u enjoyed them XD)whenever i get any ask that i’m not super thrilled by, i usually leave it for at least a few hours, and then come back to it. cuz this anon’s ask perfectly details my initial reaction...it IS my blog it is MY hella. free. space. to post whatever i want, to use however i see fit...i wanted very much to tell anon to just turn off notifications if they dont like everything that i post (assuming thats what they were annoyed about...i dont know how anon’s day has been, or if they had on notifications, or if they just dont like balloon animals...but i like giving people the benefit of the doubt and try not to make assumptions)...but i didnt cuz its just not my style, ya know?also i revised...a lot...also, to anyone wondering...rapid-fire-posting will always be a staple here at hella-free-space.tumblr.com! queueing is sooo tedious and i just dont have the time or energy for that...kudos to those who can tho lol maybe staff can do a thing tho? you know on mobile how if you hold the reblog button little circles pop up and you can choose which blog to reblog a post to? maybe you can add another row of circles and you can reblog or queue, your choice. thatd be great staff. thatd be great~