#The Undeserved and Unfinished

[ace-writer-lani]

Edit: lol I have decided to give the first sentence of each fic

-TCoS&D: "To put it lightly, Bianca was stressed."

-TLLoG: "Silently, Nico slipped into the office where he found Will hunched over...something."

-AA&A: "'He's watching again.'"

-TU&U: "'You're going to be late.'"

-AFR: "Jason thought he had died."

-L&L: "'Finished,' Will announced, barging into the room."

-LT: "The black-haired girl was starting to creep Clarisse out."

[sydneys-adamu]

okay but carmy and sydney’s conversation (or lack thereof) in apologies is just in direct opposition to their talk under the table and it’s,,, unbelievably delicious.

like optics wise the lighting, writing and direction are incredibly sterile and cold and silent (notice there’s absolutely no track playing behind them). carmy and syd are almost as far as they can get from each other while still having a conversation where as under the table they were as close as they could get without literally being on top of each other. and the difference is so distinct because it’s cold and disconnected but there’s one thing that connects these two scenes and actually holds the essence of who these two are to each other.

it’s the want. the want is still there.

you deserve my full focus. / I don’t want it to be so hard to keep up with me.

what if I just fuck up and fail? / I don’t think it’s my place to be [at ever]

I won’t let you. / it’s ever. you should come.

you’re not alone. / you should get some rest.

neither are you. / you good?

both times, no matter how close or far, the conversation can’t end with sydney feeling like a fuck up or undeserving despite the fact that carmen is unaware that is exactly how he’s making her feel not through his words but his actions.

it’s difficult, because he’s not trying to inflict this on her but he is and it’s making her spiral. sydney can’t find the words to bring it up so it’s left at “I’ve been wanting to talk about…” and “I wanna run something by you…” they’re frozen. and they’ve both been since friends and family.

but the thing is that being frozen doesn’t mean they don’t care about each other or that they want it to be this way it’s clear as day that they do not. they both hate the way things are and at this point carmy doesn’t see a reason he even deserves sydney’s concern. that’s why when she asks how he is he starts talking about a plate. a lifeless dish that carmy can’t seem to leave alone. even when syd tries to reach out to him he still wants it perfect for her so much that he’s pushed her out. just like he was during demo they’re all the same patterns.

one talk under a table was never gonna fix everything but it was a fundamental start. they have to keep growing from half truths and unfinished conversations even when they get uncomfortable. they have to work through the good and bad, the comfort of the bear not being open yet versus the reality of this life together they chose. the one they explicitly want together but don’t know how to handle yet.

it’s just a process that they’re handling like real people and it’s everything. literally everything to see them grow and see how painfully non-linear it is for them both. but all roads lead somewhere and both of theirs are heading straight toward each other until eventually they’re gonna fucking crash.

@ambeauty said this amazing thing about their inability to have a conversation above a table and it never left my head

[yuki2sksksk]

Just watched the first episode of KNY season 4 and I absolutely love the animation. The breathing style, the soundtracks and everything. It's only the first episode but it's very chaotic already 🤣

Giyushino rambling here, but I love the subtle signs of Shinobu's concern over Giyuu. You can see it in the way she asked him to explain himself on leaving the unfinished meeting, how she said something along the line of Giyuu keeps leaving things out of context. Unlike the others who seemed mildly annoyed and ticked off by his distant attitude, Shinobu just wants his explanation, for him to speak out and make efforts to not be misunderstood. Even after the meeting, she raised the question regarding Giyuu's participation in the training.

Giyuu keeps worrying her to no end. Sometimes with how they act towards each other, I wonder if Shinobu made it clear to Giyuu that she wanted him to make acquaintance with the other slayers and he was just like "no thank you" so that pissed her off and she made it her mission to annoy him " you have no friends lololol" just so he could get tired of her poking and heed her advice.

I think there's an understanding between Shinobu and Giyuu of their positions as Hashiras. Giyuu doesn't think he deserves it but he's not going to say it to Shinobu, who is physically the weakest and still managed to raise her rank. He might not get social cues much, but he thinks it would be an insult for the hardworking Insect Hashira if he steps down from his position just because he feels undeserved. And Shinobu, who's sharp and sometimes cares too much, probably picks up Giyuu's feelings over his position so maybe that's why she wants her to make friends with others just so he could make more connections and feel worthy of his spot.

Talking about Shinobu, I am betting that she gives Inosuke an earful of scolding after seeing the damage he did on the window.b

[peepergirll]

FIRST TWO DRAWINGS FOR DANNYS BIRTHDAY !! Might post evrn morr art later I am not sane anyways take these for now (explaination/Danny yap for the 2nd one under the cut cuz I feel the need to explain myself for making sad art on his birthday)

Okay so short explaination for the 2nd/unfinished looking one (I lowkey hate it but I am posting it anyways cuz it took me an ungodly amount of time....): Basically I feel like Danny might hate his birthdays, because he thinks its the day that he ruined his mothers life, by literally just being born the way he was. He knows that if it wasn't for him, she would have been alive and happy, so he can't really see his birthday as a happy day/something that should be celebrated. Therefore he feels undeserving of a party and such, and thinks people shouldnt go out of their way to bake him a cake/buy him gifts and stuff, since all he can really feel is an insane amount of guilt for literally just having been born if that makes any sense at all. Okay yeah sooo thats why I drew that and if you actually read this then uhh thanks ur very cool frfr!!

[seivsite]

SWEET NOTHINGS.

includes: itoshi sae x fem!reader. hurt/comfort ( it’s mostly the latter ), established relationship, he calls you spanish petnames, lowkey self indulgent — wc: 620

It was 3:56 am, and she had lost track of how long (Name) had been sitting on the couch, eagerly awaiting Sae’s return. Earlier, she had attempted to find solace in sleep, but restlessness took hold, leaving her uncomfortable and yearning for Sae’s tender embrace. She’s acutely aware of her obligation to be in bed, particularly with morning classes awaiting her on the horizon. Yet, an unexplained surge of melancholy envelops her, its origin a mystery dancing in the shadows of her consciousness. Unaware of the silent tears that have slipped from her eyes, she remains lost in the depths of her emotions, unable to decipher their cryptic whispers.

The bedroom doors swung open, unveiling the figure of Sae. Snapping out of her trance, her gaze locked onto Sae, her eyes shimmering with tears. Sae instinctively closed the distance between them, his thumb tenderly wiping away the cascading tears. Kneeling down, he sought to truly see her face and softly inquired, “What’s troubling you, mi amor?”

She averted her gaze from his eyes filled with concern, and Sae, recognizing her need for solace, gently enveloped her in his embrace. Guiding her head towards the shelter of his chest, he tenderly wove his fingers through her hair, seeking to offer solace and comfort, silently whispering reassurance with each gentle stroke.

Mumbled apologies escaped her lips as she nestled her head upon his shoulder. Sae tilted his head in perplexity, his voice gentle as he inquired, “For what?”

Tears welled in her eyes as she continued, “I don’t understand why you’re with me. What makes me special? I feel undeserving of your love and presence—”

Without hesitation, Sae silenced her worries with a tender kiss, unwilling to entertain her self-deprecating thoughts. For in his eyes, she was a radiant, captivating presence, the embodiment of love and beauty that surpassed all measure.

As their lips separated, Sae delicately pressed his forehead against hers, their closeness becoming a profound expression of his unwavering devotion and genuine care.

“Do not let those words escape your lips,” Sae implored, his voice a gentle caress. “In my life, you are the very essence of perfection, the embodiment of all that is extraordinary. My love for you knows no bounds, and it shatters my heart to witness you question your worth. Please, trust in the love I hold for you.”

Tears continued to flow down (Name)’s face, not borne of sadness, but instead fueled by overwhelming happiness and gratitude. Sae tenderly cradled her in his arms, pressing gentle kisses upon her forehead, whispering sweet nothings. With each passing moment, her sobs began to subside, finding solace in his comforting presence.

Sae suggested they freshen up, leading (Name) to the bathroom. While he took a swift shower, (Name) tended to her tear-stained face, indulging in a long overdue skincare routine alongside him. Giggles escaped her lips as Sae’s serum threatened to spill onto the counter, a lighthearted moment amid their shared intimacy.

By the time they were done, the first rays of the rising sun painted the sky in a soft palette of colours, heralding the dawning of a new day. (Name) had made the decision to call in sick, and Sae, sensing her weariness, insisted that she take much-needed rest by his side. They found their way to the comfort of the bed, where Sae enveloped her in a tender embrace.

“Sleep well, mi sol,” he whispered, planting a gentle kiss upon her lips.

She responded with a contented hum, the weariness from her earlier emotional release finally catching up with her. Drifting into the realm of dreams, she found solace and tranquillity in the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat, surrendering herself to a peaceful slumber.

NOTES. i forgot i had this in my drafts unfinished, so, here’s the finished piece! mi amor means my love, mi sol means my sun. i think sae calling his s/o his sun while he’s like the moon ykyk its kinda cute to me i rly like the idea heheehhe

TAG LIST. @yanqingisim @rintosei @m8bius

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

[sreyaya]

late night drabble series, Part VI

Part V, Big Yet Gentle <3

Just Better

Modern AU | Norton Campbell x Reader NSFW

Content Warning: cheating w/ a shitty bf, implied jealousy, just sex basically, 600 words, MDNI

(A/n: another smol drabble/imagination~ Hope you enjoy)

smut under the cut!

It had been months since the endless fights and quarrel started with your "boyfriend", and your roommate, Norton, couldn't be more happier. It was a joke, he hated seeing his best-roommate-friend getting hurt and used by some weird undeserving guy. Especially how all the attached heartstrings are finally becoming all too lose.

Simply, Norton wanted you happy, annoyed at how your ex used you solely for your body, your gorgeous curves, your plump breasts, every inch of you. Silently, he was beyond happy, cheering for ever of your small fights which inched closer to your breakup.

Was it really just about how your ex treated you? Or was it Norton’s growing jealousy every time he hears your loud moans at night, knowing your ex left you unfinished, unable to satisfy you with his size? Norton knew it all without needing to look.

As that troublesome guy finally left your shared dorm for good, Norton knocked softly. Looking at your sorry state, half-naked in your bra, trying to relieve the lack of pleasure your boyfriend have always left you with.

"want me to help?", Norton asked softly with a chuckle following.

It was as if you and your boyfriend only meet up for sex and pleasure. You suspected him of seeing another girl anyways, how his body often reeked a scent of feminine perfume, lipstick stains on his jawline. The guilt was light as Norton pulled his fingers in and out, reaching places yours couldn't, it was even better than what your boyfriend had and Norton knows it all too well.

Norton wanted to fulfill you, to treasure you like a diamond in the rough, like a gold he has been searching for so long. He wasted no time with foreplay, you were already wet for him. Your juices trailing in between your fair thighs, lips swollen and red, all ready for him. He kissed your tears away, caressed your cheeks, and finally entered as his girth filled every inch of your dripping pussy, cooing small compliments as he penetrated your insides deeply

It wasn't long before your phone ringing that familiar ringtone. Your boyfriend had called once again, rambling about how he had left his wallet at your dorm, demanding for money. A few minutes into the conversation, Norton grew more annoyed, he was enraged, pumping in deeper, making you release louder moans even your boyfriend have never heard before.

The voice on the other end was shocked, demanding an explanation as you were too lost in pleasure. Norton took over your phone. "Go fuck that cheap whore you went out with yesterday with your lil' dick," he dragged out before ending the call.

Norton calmed down as he focused on you again, wiping away your teary eyes as he thrust deeper. He knew how exhausting it was for you, trying to satisfy your boyfriend while being left wanting. Now, someone far bigger was willing to fill you up better, someone who actually wants you.

Growing closer to your release, you grasped on Norton’s arms, feeling every muscle. His dick buried deep inside you, thrusting roughly as you moaned louder, slick smearing all over his pelvis and your thighs. Norton made sure you finished first, feeling you tremble under him, your walls tightening. As you released your wet juices on his dick, he soon followed, pulling out to see his seed oozing from your fulfilled hole with a smug face.

"Round Two? "

[craziestfangirl98]

That was an amazing amazing finale. I was soooo worried that we would loose out on some key points. But it stuck the landing brilliantly. I have zero complaints.

The moment Dohoi went to see HyeonHo about the case, I knew that HyeonHo would not take the route and I think that was the moment of healing for him. For so long he has been seeing himself as a failure. He is stuck at the moment where he saw himself in the mirror holding a knife to his father. He is stuck at the moment he called the police earlier and it went the wrong way and hurt the only person who has cared for him, something he still feels guilt over. He is stuck at the moment where he decided that although he hasn't actually gotten into Hanseol Uni, he is going to let people believe that because he loves the reverence people have over that. They have been haunting him for so long. And will probably continue to do so. So the moment he chooses to call the police when he sees Gwangmo at the school being hurt is a break through moment for him. It has me sobbing like a baby.

I love the way the tutoring centre all came together because they realise that as much as he did falsify his credentials he still helped the kids improve.

I love that Juyeong gets to be a little more vocal, honest. Seeing Dohoi be able to live life honestly makes it easier to stop walking on eggshells for him because it's such a stepping point.

I loved that we got to finally also give HyeonHo some relief. There has always been this anxiety about what he means in Dohoi's life, so seeing him and Dohoi saying that he was his friend must mean so much to him and means so much more to me. It doesn't feel empty or undeserved or unfinished. It has a completion to all the angst of not just the past 10 years but more.

On a side note: it feels so powerful to think that one instance, had such a significant impact on adding to the guilt of all three of them because they only knew their own side of the stories. At the same time the one person who probably should feel guilty couldn't give a damn.

The moments of pure domesticity, them going back to the village and reckoning with the moments in the past. Juyeong absolutely refusing to accept any kind of a separation. Everything was put there to bring everything together, help us see just why they work well together. Till last week we were all at various levels of worried about them not being able to end the series together because I personally didn't fully get what would rectify the mistakes and hurt they've caused each other and themselves and these moments gives us a breathe of relief because it's no longer suffocating and suppressing but rather let's them breathe. I love it.

The fact that Juyeong gets to keep Taekwondo for himself still is so important to me because I was constantly thinking since I started, how they are gonna 'fix' the curse and just by letting it be what it is supposed to he they have healed so much.

Also! Loooooove Juyeong's colleagues spilling his sob story. We stan!

I ESPECIALLY LOVED the conversation about going back to uni, Dohoi being sooooo exhausted with Juyeong's bathroom habits and the final scene with Dohoi seeing Juyeong's search history.

Juyeong's search history reminded me of Jiang Tian's 'moments' in The On1y One and again absolutely wrecked me.

All in all, it was fantastic and I am going to keep coming back to this so so much.

[sanyastraightfrombrain]

Honestly I like Hazbin much more than helluva but you can see how they are running out of time they're given

The pacing is a mess and most emotional beats feel undeserved. (Esp Angel's growth. We had only 1 episode focused on him and it wasn't him "redeeming" himself - it was just showing his situation (+ a bit of Huskerdust bonding) I don't think this is entirely writers' fault - Hazbin has a big story to tell and not enough time to do so because if your show isn't a hit from a get go - bye bye.

Scott Pilgrim's recent anime is an example - they were unsure that they'll get another season so they ended up making a season long story because otherwise they would be left with unfinished project

Now I know that Hazbin was already renewed for a second season even before premiere but we don't know when the writer team got the news

Still, the pacing should be criticized because the writing could be much better if writers kept in mind their limited time to tell the story.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @prince-buck-diaz @jesuisici33 @spotsandsocks @rewritetheending @wikiangela @hippolotamus @panbuckley @devirnis @roy-kents

Thank you my beloveds! 💖

I swear I am so close to finishing first son au, I can practically taste it, but I am admittedly breaking my heart a little on the journey, so uh, have this

Buck leaves Chimney in the living room, turning on his heel and walking towards the bathroom.

Silent. Careful. A roaming ghost only there because of unfinished business.

Everything around him goes fuzzy, or maybe it’s him that is blurring, his edges no longer defined or corporeal, stretched too thin by his devastation, now just a tormented thing that isn’t whole because his real body is still in the waiting room at MedStar Georgetown University Hospital, caught in limbo, reaching for the heaven of Eddie’s embrace as he’s dragged down by the hell-crafted impossibility of living without him.

No amount of repeating Bobby’s words, Eddie is stable. He made it through surgery. They think he’s gonna pull through, does anything to reassure him.

Buck blinks and he’s in the shower.

Water slides down his body, a wet, sluggish crawl that adapts to the shape of him, its touch not as smooth or as clinging as Eddie’s. It drags away oil and dirt and blood, cleansing his body, but Buck doesn’t feel clean, not in the way he does when Eddie smiles at him or laughs at something he said or showers his son with praise and affection.

The water is tinted red.

Paler than what spilled across cobblestone.

Thinner than what sank into Buck’s skin.

Heavy droplets pound against his face, the spray relentless as it tries to wash away a stain that is stuck in Buck like gnarled roots of a gigantic tree, immovable and eternal.

The world turns to static.

Droplets of crimson heat splattering across his face and neck. Smearing. Caressing. Falling. Metallic. Thick. Holy life stricken, sent to another. An aberration of communion. Communion he took unwilling and undeserving, damning his soul for all eternity.

Everything shimmers back into focus. Warm water and pale grey tile.

Buck watches the clear water possessed with pink strains move down his body and splash down against the tile, rushing towards the drain, swirling, twirling, dancing before it disappears.

Reality wobbles again, what is real and in front of him twisting until it resembles choppy, blaring images that are forever imprinted on his eyelids.

Stickiness of stolen life pooling on skin and fabric. Red so dark it’s black seeping into cracks between the cobblestones. Life leaking out and reaching for Buck. Hurtling towards him even as it fades away. Helpless and frozen, standing still, already wishing he could drain his own heart dry of blood so that red life would stream in Eddie’s veins once again, just like the poet Keats said.

No pressure tagging: @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @shortsighted-owl @oliverstaark @jamietarts @paranoidbean @anxieteandbiscuits @the-likesofus @911onabc @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @honestlydarkprincess @heartbeatdiaz @rogerzsteven @buddierights @monsterrae1 @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @folk-fae @fleurdebeton @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @housewifebuck and anyone else who wants to share!

[ace-writer-lani]

Holy shit I just thought of the most angsty plot point for one of my wips.

...sorry Will Solace.

[piecesofmoon]

To the year that is passing by in the blink of an eye, an early goodbye.

December 1st, unreal as such. A fever dream playing all the moments like flashback - the last seven seconds before death. The first of the last, forcing my way to an unrehearsed beginning, past the discomfort of comforting void.

Unfulfilled dreams, unfinished conversations, unwanted pain, unexpected laughter, undeserved love, unfathomable ties; I carry it along the first of the last.

The last month, the last chance to look back, the last hope to forget and forgive, the last attempt to sew together torn bonds or leave them behind.

The last expression of love and hatred, the last laughters and cries, truths and lies of this year.

A truth - I despised this year. A lie- I despised this year.

December 1st, unreal as such. I grew up a little too fast, this year was mean. I loved a little too much, an unreal year you have been.

~piecesofmoom

[we8ofserketry]

Tenets of Serketry

Seek out new perspectives and knowledge. Always ask yourself if there could possi8ly 8e an exception 8efore st8ing 8lack and white truths. Pursue light and take it so it can 8e spread as far as possi8le.

The sentient mind is diverse, and no two will feel the same a8out what is good and 8ad for them. Let other 8eings do with their 8odies what they find enjoya8le. False pretenses of protection are intolera8le, and it is always necessary to look within the other party and determine what they truly want.

One's comfort always comes 8efore the ease of communic8ion and understanding. The two do not have to contradict, and with care, even the most difficult of situ8ions can 8e made into a perfect 8alance.

All life is equal. The troll takes no hierarchy over the spider, and classifying these groups shall only 8e used for science, never persecution.

No one reality is more valua8le over the other. There sometimes may arise the need to weave 8etween these realities to cre8 a safer world for all, 8ut until that time comes, accept your differences and understand that there is no harm in someone seeing the world differently to you.

Actions speak louder than words and words speak louder than thoughts. The mind is an unfinished product, only 8its and pieces that can 8e put together into one's true intentions and desires.

You are under no o8lig8ion to tie yourself to your form, and policing others in such a way will only limit the diversity of the world. You have full right to not only express yourself in what you have, 8ut cre8 new joy and forge your own path.

No sentient 8eing is irredeema8le or 8eyond help, undeserving of love and support, or worthy of pain, no matter what they've done.

[lususnatura]

"Why stay in Gotham?"

throughout his life, blamore found that he'd made a surprising discovery that sometimes, the most difficult questions were the ones thought to be simple; ones like 'what do you believe in?' and 'do you like who you are?' but blamore couldn't remember a single time where a question had been posed to it about why it had stayed here all this time, when it could've easily gone back to france, or literally anywhere else. he supposed this was probably because no one ever really cared enough to ask — or, because when someone actually tried to wrestle something genuine out of it regarding what it referred to as its past life, blamore had this nasty habit of lashing out at them.

the good moments of it were hard to remember after all; mere flashes compared to all of the bad times, which were like an ever-present smog in blamore's mind. it was a mistake to open up to harley about how all of his remaining family members were likely still in annecy and so it was alone here. but at the same time, blamore almost felt kind of grateful that she asked it this question. it completely stopped in its tracks when those words escaped the other's mouth; the sound of rain beating down on the umbrella blamore carried, as well as a sharp inhale, being the only thing to fill the silence between them for a few moments.

he was still here because he wanted everyone here to suffer like how he suffered. day after day, and night after night, the creature had tried its best to do what its father would've wanted it to do after all: to 'help people because they can always be better.' but after a long line of both perceived and real betrayals by people, blamore had cast out that very same ideology, as all it had caused it was pain. if only sacha (his father) hadn't believed in these undeserving people so much... he'd still be alive, he thought. blamore turned on its heel then to face harley as it pursed its lips. with its eyes focused on the ground and blinking rapidly, it then spoke up, ❝ why does anyone stay here? just because i told you i have family in france, harley, doesn't mean that they would welcome me back into their lives with open arms. ❞

blamore's red-rimmed eyes darted up to meet harley's then. due to stress, it's grip on the umbrella it held tightened slightly, ❝ so i guess it's just a matter of me not having anywhere else to stay. and i've got unfinished business here, because i did not become like this on my own. ❞

[helenofblackthorns]

the fact I've seen a couple people say the reason for the lack of mourning for Kit in ChoT was because cc "didn't want to write sad scenes"... if she didn't want to write sad scenes she shouldn't have killed off a main character????? like why kill off someone and then not follow through with some sort of narrative weight (which is probably going to be sad. because someone died.)

like writing 101 is to not kill off characters unless it serves some sort of purpose, whether plot wise or character wise. even if that purpose is to show how dangerous the situation is for everyone else. but for that to be effective it can't just... exist in a vacuum. there should be notable changes in other characters behaviour bc of the loss, or how the plot unfolds afterwards. death is kinda a big deal & the writing should reflect that! there should be a gaping hole in the group you can feel, a definitive change story that wouldn't exist if the death hadn't happened, especially for a main character.

and the way Kit's death is written... doesn't reflect any of this. like he hadn't died the book would have ended exactly the same. and honestly the whole thing is kinda a slap in the face for readers just because we have read three books with Kit & fallen in love with him as a character. we deserve mourn him! we deserve to have moment where we get to cry alongside the characters for more than a couple sentences! and the fact we don't makes the whole thing feel unfinished & that the ending is undeserved. like for me at least, reading the epilogue was a "that's it?" moment, it all felt too good to be true (and a bit fan-servicey). like I was just expecting this moment that never came & it left me feel unbalanced. at the very least someone could have spared an "ave atque vale" like come on now.

[brasideios]

I really should stop paying attention to the AI stuff but this is seriously getting to me; so much so that I’m considering quitting writing altogether.

I’ve been digging into my thoughts about this lately and I wanted to break it down a little here; to explain to myself, as well as you poor souls who engage with my bullshit, why I think AI fundamentally sucks and why I’m struggling to find a way to share my work anymore.

It begins with the fact that I strongly dislike the entire concept of traditional publishing.

In a nutshell, publishing houses get to decide what you, the consumer, will read, always based on what will be popular and make them the most money. They have the power to decide what you can’t read, what you shouldn’t read.

How many excellent stories have never been published because they weren’t riding the zeitgeist?

Millions. Millions.

And let’s not get into the ridiculously low percentage of income an author makes from a book published by a traditional publisher. Holy shit, it’s appalling.

Even as an indie author I earn about 32c for every $12USD sale of an ebook at best, and it is much, much worse through a publishing house.

Anyway. I digress.

In my opinion, all stories have a place, a meaning for the people who are listening for them, which is why finding the fanfiction world was so amazing to me.

Every voice here has an equal chance of being heard, and equally, we all have a chance to find the story we’ve been looking for. No one can stop you from publishing whatever it is you feel compelled to say. Whatever it is that drives and moves you.

It was honestly a relief to find stories without perfect prose and grammar getting the love they rightly deserve. Stories with silly or fun premises, LGBTQ+ people taking centre stage or - *insert thing that the publishing world would never publish here* - because it makes people ‘happy’ (whatever emotional form that takes) - both to write and to read.

But that well is poisoned by the people cashing in on that work via AI scraping, making unknowing slaves of creative people - pouring their love and time into a piece of writing only to have it stolen.

And in their own way, people using AI to make stories are just as bad. They too want to take advantage of the labour of others to get some buzz of dopamine from kudos/likes or whatever, which is completely unearned and undeserved.

I’m just going to mention here, while I’m on the subject - if you’re one of those wretches feeding other people’s unfinished fics to the AI to get an ending - I hate you so much there aren’t words. You are actually the worst. I hope none of my followers would do this - but if you do, check yourself.

Moving on…

The thing is, I just can’t understand how writers especially (and not just fic writers) can’t see that AI rips out the heart of storytelling.

Writing as a process is entirely personal; it comes from inside the self. At least in my experience, the process is more important than the end result. The discovery and exploration of themes and emotions entirely your own is only to be found in the process; it can’t be replicated by a computer spitting out strings of words others wrote.

It just can’t.

And I’m just going to say this now - if you, as a writer, don’t think this is important at all - if you don’t think that coming up with ideas and developing them yourself is literally what writing is - then I honestly don’t know what you’re doing, but it isn’t writing.

Anyway (again).

Where in all of this is there a place for a writer who doesn’t want their stories to be grist for the mill, to be regurgitated in some altered, souless form and sold off as if it was someone else’s?

Who’s sick to death of putting money in some other son of a bitches pocket, while they do the work out of love and passion?

I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.

As it stands, we are powerless to stop any of this unless we simply stop writing, or sharing that writing. That’s a miserable acknowledgment to have to make for someone who quite literally just wants to write and share those stories with others without them being stolen.

It shouldn’t be a lot to ask.

[forget-me-maybe]

WIP Whenever

thank you @lizziemajestic for the tag and the steamy sneak peak.

ummmm i'm all over the place writing at things i thought i'd never touch again and nothing's finished BUT last wip whatever i posted a part from my rolan/tav modern music au thingy and perhaps i'll just throw out more of it in its unfinished state. yeah. i'll do that.

tags? tags! @kimberbohwrites @toads-treasures @waterdeep-weavemoss

here we go! 2,8k words. as last time warning for incorrect things. also warning for overuse of changing pov and strange pacing and my inability to make them stop talking.

oh they get down and dirty this time!!!

Tav’s has a long day; work, a very exciting meeting with an independent record company, rehearsal, and little does she know it’s about to get longer. She’s so tired as she heads towards the door to her flat that she almost trips over the long legs that are splayed across the corridor. 

Rolan.

And not only Rolan, a passed out, beaten up Rolan. 

Panic surges through her as she tries to wake him up, only to receive incoherent mumbles in return. She has to dial the emergency number four times before she gets it right. The patient operator calms her down as she can’t remember which godsdamned street she’s lived on for the last four years. 

The wait for the ambulance is even worse. Every second is a minute. Every minute is an hour. She holds his hand, placing light kisses to his knuckles, begging him to wake up. He doesn’t even have to talk to her once he does, just knowing he’ll be alright is enough. 

The operator talks calmingly to her throughout it all, updating her on when the ambulance will arrive and makes sure Tav checks Rolan’s pulse and breathing. In Tav’s panic she has the lucidity to make a mental note of sending flowers once all this is over. As long as he makes it through. If not she will never forgive herself for not being more stubborn with him. 

A hand on her shoulder pulls her out of her spiralling thoughts. 

“We’ll take it from here,” the green-clad half-orc tells her. 

The half-orc and a human check Rolan’s vital signs before they load him up on a stretcher to carry him down the stairs to the ambulance. Tav’s not sure how it happens but soon she’s sitting in the back of the ambulance with the half-orc examining Rolan. 

“Do you know what happened to him?” they ask. 

Tav shakes her head. “I found him like that when I got home.” 

The half-orc hums thoughtfully before turning their attention back to Rolan, controlling some sort of fluid. 

“We’ll take good care of him.” 

Tav nods. 

~*~

The room Rolan wakes up in is bright, almost uncomfortably so, but at least he wakes up. That’s progress he in hindsight can’t say was a given. Even before his vision adjusts to the brightness the telltale low beeping informs him that he’s in a hospital room. 

A strange weight covers his upper thighs, for a moment he thinks he’s broken them too but after a couple of blinks to sharpen his vision he sees the head of short hair resting on his legs. He can’t help but wonder how long she’s been sitting by his bedside to get tired enough to fall asleep in what looks like a very uncomfortable position. 

The thought brings a lump to his throat. How selfish it was of him to turn to her. How undeserving of her time he is. 

Yet, he wants to reach out and touch her. Stroke her hair.

Bad idea, it turns out, since moving causes every single cell in his body to scream in pain. At least he has the restraint to only let out a groan. 

The woman on his lap stirs before yanking herself away from him. 

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Blue eyes meet his and relief colours her face. “You’re awake.” 

“I am.” 

“Why didn't you go to the hospital right away?” she scolds as relief is replaced with anger. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? Wasting precious time laying around in my stairwell, bleeding into your abdomen like you’ve got nothing better to do!” 

“Excuse me for not being aware of the extent — ” another groan of pain cuts him off. Getting riled up is apparently not something he’s capable of at this very moment. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says softly, rising from her chair. “I’ll get a nurse.” 

Once he’s updated on the extent of his injuries (five broken ribs, a ruptured spleen and some internal bleeding), and pumped up with some painkiller that makes everything a bit fuzzy by a nurse that looks an awful lot like the singer in Tav’s band, he can finally move enough to reach out and grab Tav’s hand. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Tav just hums in noncommittally and places the back of his hand against her cheek. 

She’s beautiful, he thinks. 

“You’re high,” she says. 

Can she read his thoughts? 

Tav chuckles. 

“You should rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He wants to argue, but that didn’t work out well last time. He’s too hurt, too exhausted to say anything. 

Or maybe he’s just greedy. 

~*~

Tav refuses to let Rolan go back to his dorm after he tells her about what Lorroakan puts him through. Which means she’s now sharing her small flat with the recovering pianist. Tav also refuses to let him take the sofa, it’d be completely unreasonable to put the tall man on that tiny piece of furniture when there’s a short woman who fits on it way better. 

That’s their first disagreement. 

Their second is whenever they want to listen to anything. Tav wants something fast and upbeat as she cooks, Rolan prefers an Amnian fantasia. In an attempt to compromise, they make a playlist on Songify together that’s just too chaotic for any of them to listen to. 

They haven’t kissed again, not that Tav doesn’t want to. She wants to kiss him so bad she’s acting stupid sometimes. But she’s not going to take advantage of him being in a vulnerable situation where he might feel like he owes it to her. 

No, she’s going to have to stop thinking with her pussy and chill the fuck out. 

It’s hard though, as he’s still on sick-leave he spends his days in her flat while Tav’s spending more time away from home, the band signed the deal and are working tirelessly at recording. She tries to convince herself it’s good to give Rolan space but whenever she gets home he asks her so many questions about her day it almost feels like an interrogation. 

It’s just until they’ve found a permanent solution, she tells herself. 

The thought of whatever that permanent solution could be keeps her up at night, weighing their options but always coming to the conclusion that Rolan won’t be safe to go back to Ramazith’s as long as Lorroakan is there. 

She’s not completely sure she could get away with murder. 

She could probably get away with blackmail. 

Her plotting is interrupted by a whine coming from her bed, Rolan’s usual soft snores are replaced with sounds of distress as he tosses and turns in bed. 

With soft steps in no more than her sleeping t-shirt and grandma panties she makes her way over to the bed and sits on the edge. What’s the proper procedure for someone having nightmares? Touching seems inappropriate but talking should be fine, she assumes. 

“Rolan, hey,” she speaks as softly as she can. “It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re in my flat, you know, the girl from the street and the store. I’m going to make sure you’re safe from that bastard.”

As she speaks, Rolan’s breathing slows down. Tav continues to babble on about her day, telling him about an interaction she had at work. She told him about it earlier when she got home but it was a lovely, little lady and it seems like the kind of story that can pull someone out from a nightmare. 

“I like hearing your voice.” 

“Thank you, well, as I said – oh.” Tav stares into burning, golden eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You were having a – ” 

“A nightmare, yes.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asks carefully. 

“I am now.” He chews the inside of his mouth before he speaks again. “Would you stay?” 

“I’m just across the room, I’m not going anywhere til ten.” 

“I mean in bed. With me.” His voice is so small and his eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Tav nods. 

Rolan pulls away his blanket to give her access, not sure what level of touching is appropriate she lets him take the lead as she lies down next to him. And he does, looping one arm around her waist to pull her close to his chest, his breath hot against her forehead. Their legs entangle so naturally Tav thinks they must be made for each other. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. 

“Yes,” she breathes out. 

Rolan hums in content and she swears she feels the shadow of a kiss against her forehead. 

~*~

Short, black hair tickles Rolan’s nose as he wakes up. A night of nightmares he doesn’t want to linger on turned into a comfortable dreamless sleep thanks to the woman currently pressed against his chest. She has turned around sometime during the night and his hand has made its way to rest lazily against her soft stomach. Their tails are intertwined in the way only lovers’ are supposed to. 

He wishes that was the case, but he can’t exploit her kindness more than he already has. 

He steals a quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:07. Almost two hours before Tav’s usual wake-up time. Fighting the tinge of guilt that flows through him, perhaps he’ll play pretend until then at least. He tightens his grip on Tav ever so slightly and nuzzles into her hair. She smells of leather, vanilla and something that must just be her. 

“What time is it?” she mumbles, voice hoarse from sleep. He curses himself for waking her up. 

“Early, go back to sleep,” he whispers. 

Tav turns around in his arms and he’s met with a sleepy smile and squinting eyes. 

“You okay?” 

“More than okay,” he says. “Are you?” 

“I have to pee,” she mumbles. 

He huffs in amusement, always so eloquent. He lets go of Tav and he mourns the loss of contact as she stands up. In her not-fully-awake state she bumps into a chair and releases a line of tired curses as she makes her way to the bathroom. Rolan shakes his head and lies on his back, staring into the ceiling. 

As the toilet flushes and he hears her wash her hands, he expects Tav to go back to the sofa to sleep the rest of the morning. But to his surprise, and delight, she heads back towards him. He gets a surge of confidence and extends his arms to invite her into an embrace. Without missing a beat she crawls onto the bed and ends up on top of him, her face pressed against his chest again and her legs on either side of his thighs. 

He thinks of Volo’s Guide to Classical Music in order to not have his attraction to her make itself known against her stomach. 

“The last time we were in a similar position it didn’t end well,” Tav muses. 

“Perhaps we should try another position then.” He feels her tense on top of him. 

Hells, what is it with this woman and his brain-to-mouth connection completely malfunctioning? 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  

“No, no, no,” she says and looks up at him, all her features full of remorse. “It was stupid of me to even talk about that night. I’m sorry.” 

“It was a very pleasant night until I overreacted.” 

“I stuck my nose in something I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’ll gladly have you stick your nose in all my business henceforth.” 

She gets something mischievous in her eyes. 

“So, in the spirit of sticking my nose in your business,” she muses. “What other position would you like to try then?” 

There goes exactly all of his blood from his head down to his cock and there’s no way she can’t feel it. The smug smirk on her lips <i>tells</i> him she can feel it. 

But two can play this game and the doctor had said he would be allowed some light physical activity by now. So, with some quick movements and a strong hold on her hips, he’s turned them around with Tav releasing a small, high-pitched sound of surprise as she lands on her back underneath him. 

“How about this one?” he asks, brushing his nose against her jawline. 

“A classic.” She giggles. 

“Hm.” He manoeuvres them again but to the side so Tav’s half upper body is hanging down the side of the bed. Now she’s laughing hysterically, her t-shirt falling victim to gravity revealing skin that he longs to dig his teeth in. 

“I preferred the last one,” she coughs out between bursts of laughter. 

“Hm, I think I did too.” 

Happy to oblige he pulls her up from the side of the bed and lands on top of her again. Giggles die down and eyes meet, just as he’s about to claim her lips with his, she speaks. 

“Wait, Rolan, you’re sure about this?” she asks, her voice so small, so sincere it almost hurts him. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because I’m helping you out. I’d do that either way.” 

“Tav, I’m sure,” he says. “But only if you are.” 

“One hundred percent certain.” 

And then finally he gets to kiss her, not clouded by alcohol like last time, just the two of them as the first rays of sunshine start to seep through the curtains. It’s not long until tongues intertwine with each other and hands search for places not yet explored. 

Whatever clothes they had worn to bed the evening before are quickly discarded in piles next to the bed. Sloppy kisses are placed down Tav’s neck to reach newly exposed skin. He tests the water a bit, leaving a love bite on her collarbone that elicits a moan from Tav’s kissing bruised lips. 

“Is that alright?” he asks, searching her face for any discomfort. 

“Do it again.” 

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest as he makes his way to her breasts, sucking on one pert nipple before placing his mouth around the whole areola and biting down. The moan that leaves Tav’s lips this time borders on a scream and he wants to do everything in his power to hear that again. So, he gives the other breast the same attention and lo and behold, she does it again. 

But there’s another part of Tav that is begging for his attention. 

Impatiently he moves down to between her thighs, enjoying the whimpers she makes as he nibbles lightly on the soft flesh of her thighs. He moves closer and closer to her glistening centre and lets his tongue run lazily across her slit. 

He explores, switching paces and pressure to see what makes her let out the most beautiful sounds and what makes the hand in his hair tighten its grip. Once he’s found the best rhythm, he plays her like a symphony until his name flows like a prayer from her lips. 

Tav’s thighs tighten around his head and her back arches as she releases a flood of liquid. He laps hungrily as she squirms with every touch of his tongue, riding out her orgasm. 

He rests his cheek against her stomach for a moment, letting her catch her breath as he idly runs her claws over his scalp. Were he to die this very moment, he’d die a happy man. 

A gentle tug on his horn turns his attention back to Tav’s face.

“I need you on your back,” she says. 

“I thought we were against that position.” 

“It’s not quite the position I have in mind.” She licks her lips. “Let me return the favour.” 

Positions are switched and Tav’s on top of him, administering light kisses down his neck. She switches between kissing, sucking and biting as she trails down his body, fickling playfully with her tongue at one of his nipples which is a sensation he’s not used to but, to his surprise, very much enjoys. 

And just like he did to her moments before, she moves down his body to reach his leaking cock. Just the sight of her down between his thighs makes him almost lose himself. She kisses up his shaft, every touch of her lips sends a spike of electricity through him. 

It takes everything in his power not to spill himself as she licks the head of his cock. She grabs his hand, guiding it to the back of her head. 

“You can set the pace, but if I tap on your thigh you have to let go. Sounds good?”

“Yes,” he pants out. 

The warmth of her mouth encloses around him, her tongue pushing against the underside of his cock. He feels the back of her throat as she takes as much of him as she can handle. At first, he lets her do her magic on her own. But he grows greedy, setting a pace that works has him bordering on the edge, sloppy sounds leave her mouth as she takes almost his whole length. She hasn’t tapped out but he’s still afraid he might be pushing her too far. 

But then she moans around him and he comes completely undone, thrusting his hips towards her and spilling his seed deep down her throat. An apology sits on the tip of his tongue as he looks down, she shoots him a smirk like a cat who got the cream licking her lips. 

She crawls up to lie down on his chest again, a feeling of warm content spreads from his heart throughout the rest of his body. 

He glances at the clock. 

7:04. 

Good.