#This was a seriously enjoyable task though

[miscling]

An Unexpected Visitor

⛓️🤐

It was getting pretty late, so she'd changed into something more comfortable to see out the rest of the day, when a knock came at the door.

'Who's knocking this late?' she thought to herself, but didn't think that maybe opening the door was a bad idea. As soon as it was open even a crack, it slammed open on her, a piece of thick tape quickly covering her mouth. Before she could react, a second piece joined it and quick hands pulled her arms behind her back.

'Stop struggling. You asked for this, remember? All those posts on tumblr saying how much you wanted this, needed this, craved this.'

His words dug into her mind. Of course it was someone who followed her, but she couldn't figure out how he'd found her. Maybe she wasn't careful enough about her constant stream of kinkposting, or something in her pictures clued him in. Either way, she was in trouble. He flipped her around, pushing her against the wall. One hand kept her wrists together while the tape found its way around them.

'Now, I can't have you seeing me,' he said. He held her against the wall while he pulled a scarf from a hanger, quickly tying it around her head. 'That's better,' he said, pulling a mask off, his voice growing clearer. 'Inside.'

She couldn't resist the order. She had asked for this, she did want it. Once inside, he pushed her down to her knees, then sat her back to tape up her legs. Though her mind screamed at her to kick and break free, she didn't even try.

'Good girl,' he said, quickly finishing the job. 'Almost too easy,' he added, making a small dissatisfied noise.

All she could do was squirm on the floor, making pathetic whimpering noises as his hands found her cunt.

'So you weren't lying for attention, then?' he asked her, leaving her to mumble a response from behind the tape. 'Where's your phone?' he asked, but she could hear him clicking with her mouse at the computer. 'Where are your pictures?'

She wriggled on the floor. There was nothing she could do to stop him, not even when he pushed her thumb into her phone to unlock it.

'Wow,' he said. 'That is a lot of pictures... do you just send them to anyone who asks? How many people have your shown your tits to?'

She didn't want to answer that, choosing to stay silent to avoid the humiliation. A flush came to her cheeks as a recording began to play from her phone. One of many from her many edging sessions.

'Oh,' he said, his smile clear in his voice. 'I can work with this, and by the sound of it, your magic wand, too, now where do you keep it?' he asked, his footsteps moving around her home. 'The bedroom, obviously.'

There was little she could do, taped up and left on the floor as he walked upstairs, caught with only the hope that he'd be as rough as she needed...

These pictures were taken after a privately sent Ask Task, and the short story written by me for my own amusement and for those of you who enjoy stories just like it! ^^

[everythingseasoning]

What the JJK men eat for breakfast

[Y’all already know what Gojo’s one is gonna be like… ]

Warnings: none! Pure fluff <3

Nanami - A medley of things: usually his breakfast consists of salmon and rice, yogurt with berries, and a leafy salad with extra kale and tomatoes. Nanami starts the day off right, ensuring he’s got enough energy to get through the day with the grueling task of fighting curses. —After all, Nanami takes his job seriously & his goal is to save people; Nanami eats well so that he’s not in a weaker state— in the case that his energy level is the difference between somebody living or dying. [bonus note: Nanami carries protein bars and runner’s gel on him at all times, in case he needs a pick me up.]

Choso - the traditional Japanese breakfast of miso soup, fish, pickled vegetables, and rice. This breakfast array is filling for the stomach, and satisfying for the tastebuds, while also being healthy and a great way to start off the day with lots of energy! —These things are important to Choso, at least nourishment is important for him to serve to his brothers. He also enjoys this typical Japanese breakfast when he’s not totally neglecting himself while in search of his brothers. [bonus note: Hundreds of years ago, Choso used to cook for his younger brothers, juggling making meals with a bunch of other things. So, he can do lots filling & healthy recipes.]

Toji - this booger will eat anything he can find. He ain’t doin no meal prep the night before. He worries about it the day of. [bonus note: he’s gotten his breakfast by stealing lunch boxes from unsuspecting children more times than he can count.] [bonus note two: Toji actually really enjoys the typical western breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast, and coffee. He would eat this a lot back when his wife was still alive.]

Geto - this pretty prince likes having a solid meal for breakfast, something both nourishing and enjoyable. His favorite breakfast meal is fried rice with lots of meat bits, miso soup, green tea, and a salad. [bonus note: Though Geto doesn’t have a sweet tooth to the extent Gojo does, Geto does enjoy a pastry in his breakfast a few times a week.]

Gojo - He loves donuts for breakfast. They’re just such a sweet treat— he loves that it’s sugary glaze (or chocolate) melts on his tongue like a shot of liquid happiness, as the first taste he experiences in the morning. Gojo will also have a berry smoothie to accompany his sweet tooth. He honestly doesn’t eat super ravenously, so this suffices as a breakfast for the almighty Satoru Gojo. [bonus note: back when Satoru and Suguru were in each others’ lives, on top of his own, Satoru would often end up eating whatever Suguru was having for breakfast.]

➜ M’s JJK masterlist

teehee I did toji dirty— or did I? (Nah he did this to himself).

Comment for a part two for the JJK students!

Comments/Feedback highly appreciated 💗!

➜ M’s JJK masterlist

Taglist: @satorulicious (it’s a small headcanon but I hope u like the Gojo part!) @kapeeshkapoosh (ily <3 hope you like hehe) and @sysysysysysysysysysysysysysy (from my taglist!)

[the-modern-typewriter]

Escapology

“The game,” Damien murmured against Lysander’s ear, “is simple. Are you paying attention? I’ll only say it once.”

Lysander twisted his head on the plush mattress, trying to get a good look at the other man behind him. He couldn’t. Damon’s grip was firm on Lysander’s wrists, and the weight of him kept Lysander easily pinned down to the bed. Lysander did his best to pretend he didn’t enjoy that as much as he did.

“I’m going to set the timer for one minute,” Damien said. “And, every time you fail to escape within those sixty seconds, I’m going to make the task more difficult for you.”

“I’m not going to fail,” Lysander said. “Do you seriously still think I don’t know how to get out of a pair of handcuffs?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Damien’s voice was perfectly placid by contrast. “Remember, if you want out, all you have to do is say please.”

“Yeah? How about, ‘screw you?’

“Bit early in the night for that. Maybe I’ll let you if you win.”

“There’s no if!”  

Lysander had been working with some variety of lock for almost as long as he’d had proper motor control in his fingers. He’d always had a weakness for locked things, for secrets, and for the physical and mental puzzle of untangling himself out of any situation he’d found himself in. He knew how to get out of something as simple as a pair of handcuffs! And if he did, perhaps, enjoy being restrained it was an enjoyment made greater by the inability to free himself.

He could always free himself.

Maybe, if he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have ended up in this room. With him.

The conversation, in short:

INT: BAR OUTSIDE OF LYSANDER’S SHOW - EVENING

Enter LYSANDER, daring and brilliant young escape artist, who crosses the room through a flurry of impressed fans and people begging to know just how he does it. He comes across a dashingly handsome man in the process of ordering a drink. This is DAMIEN. They look each other up and down, and strike a conversation. It escalates.

LYSANDER

You didn’t enjoy my show?

DAMIEN

Oh, I enjoyed it. But escape artistry is just a con - you always have a hidden way out. A trick.

LYSANDER

You think it’s a trick? I’d like to see you try and hold me!

DAMIEN

Alright.

LYSANDER

Excuse me?

DAMIEN

I said alright.

LYSANDER

You think you would be able to keep me, a professional escape artist, from escaping you? What, do you tie people up for a living or something?

DAMIEN

Yes.

Lysander stares at him.

DAMIEN

I work at Siren, down the road. The BDSM club. I’m a professional rigger.

Lysander continues to stare at him.

DAMIEN

Have I scared you?

LYSANDER

…So when should I come over?

“Do you have any more questions before we start?” Damien asked.

“You could at least cuff my feet for round one. This is just insulting.”

“That wasn’t a question. Do you have any questions?” Damien asked again, this time with an unmistakable amusement.

Lysander shook his head.

Damien pulled back from him and Lysander rolled onto his back. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched as Damien reached over and started the timer on his phone. He let the small silver key drop down on the bed.

“Are you not even going to try and hold onto it?” 

“55 seconds left…”

Lysander lunged for the key. His hands were behind his back, but he snatched it off the sheets with his mouth and spat it back over his shoulder, only slightly showing off when he caught it deftly. He scraped the silver up against the lock in search of the small hole that would spring him free.

The cuffs clicked loose and he looked up towards Damien with a smirk, somewhere between cocky and disappointed all at once.  

“I told you,” he said. “Honestly, after all your talk I thought you might last at least thirty seconds. They pay you for this?”

Damien hummed, not even watching. He was digging something out of his closet.

“You wouldn’t even have got them on in the first place if I didn’t let you,” Lysander added.

“Yes, yes, you’re very impressive. You did miss one detail though...”

Damien turned to face him, and his smirk back was that of a challenge matched.

Lysander’s spine straightened instinctively; a thrill shooting up him, though his brow furrowed with confusion.

“I said,” Damien set a bag down on the bed. “Escape.” He pounced, and Lysander went down again hard with a yelp and a tangle of limbs. He grappled with Damien’s hands, but was shoved down again, relentlessly. His wrists were yanked behind his back and the lock clicked into place. “I didn’t say, ‘get out of the cuffs,’ did I?”

Oh.

Lysander panted for breath, absorbing that new information in with interest. He tried to hold back a grin.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bastard?”

“Usually around the same time they’re begging me for more.”

He still sounded so calm, so implacable. It made Lysander want to wind him up and up and up until he lost it; another puzzle to undo.

“So how am I supposed to win, then?” Lysander asked, musing. “Get off the bed? Get out of the room?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Damien’s hands were busy wrapping a thick belt around Lysander’s arms, clinching them together at the elbow. “Except, of course, for one small thing.”  He stepped back, and re-set the timer, eyes full of a dark heady promise. “You’re not going to win.”

***

The alarm sounded.

Lysander was not winning.

Damien had bound his ankles after he lost round two, then his knees after round three. After a round four, he attached Lysander’s wrist cuffs to his ankles and left him in a hogtie.

Lysander had just lost round five.

He curled his fist around the key, not about to give it up without a fight. He didn’t have to. The only thing he’d been tasked to do was escape, not obey, or behave by any means. He scrambled back, keeping his gaze locked on Damien, his mind racing through his albeit limited options. Every time he’d managed to get himself free in time so far, he hadn’t managed to get past Damien.

Damien, who sauntered closer now with the sort of lethal grace more commonly seen in jungle cats.

Lysander swallowed.

“You’re looking tired,” Damien said. “Want to give up?”

“I want to point out that I’ve undone all of your ties.”

“And yet here you are, still helpless on my bed.”

Lysander swallowed a second time, but it didn’t make his mouth any less dry, especially when Damien went and said things like that. His back hit the headboard.

“I’m not helpless.”

“Not yet. We’ll get there, don’t worry.”

“I’m not – I don’t –” Lysander floundered. He didn’t know how to finish without lying and lying was not allowed for safety reasons.

Damien paused at the other end of the bed, considering him in turn.

Lysander realised after a beat that he was waiting for the end of the sentence. He exhaled, and squared his shoulders.

“Well,” he said instead. “I’m not going to just give you the key.”

“Of course not.” Damien said. He had that amusement in his voice again. He grabbed Lysander by the ankle cuffs and yanked him bodily down the bed. “Come here, then.”

It felt like Lysander should say ‘I don’t want to be helpless,’ but that wasn’t strictly true. He just didn’t want to let Damien do it. It was one thing during his shows when the various ties were complex spectacles, when he had to be conscious of nerve damage and height and a dozen different variables all at once. Damien wasn’t picking anything complicated that would be a particular mess to get out of. Perhaps that was the point.

Lysander kicked, all but throwing himself off the bed.

Damien reeled him back, working the key free from Lysander’s grip, before wrapping an arm around him.

“I’ll let you pick your forfeit,” Damien said, softly. “Would you like to be blindfolded, or would you prefer to be gagged?”

Neither concept was exactly new to him. None of this was exactly new to him, and yet it was different. He hadn’t expected how intimate it would feel, or the way that he couldn’t find the steady calm he usually found when he was working methodically free for practice. What he normally did was rote. It was him against something inanimate. Knots could be tricky but they were predictable.

It was impossible to think of Damien as something inanimate. Lysander’s heart raced, and he felt hyper-aware of his every movement, and the warmth of Damien’s hands and the scent of his cologne on the air. It was a little intoxicating.

For the first time, Lysander considered the possibility that he might actually lose this bet.

(He was fine with that.)

***

Lysander couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t move an inch. He was, well and truly, stuck.

Christ he couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he caught his breath, his muscles trembling with a peaceful sort of exhaustion. He couldn’t possibly get out of this anymore, could no longer fight, so it was okay to settle. His defiance had splintered. In the dark, he was a creature of sensation alone, world narrowed down, no audience to think of. It was overwhelming and…nice.

He didn’t think he’d get this feeling again.

Damien carded his fingers idly through Lysander’s hair, laying on the bed beside him. He seemed to be taking a moment to catch his breath too.

“Alright?” he asked.

Lysander made a sound of agreement.

Damien’s nail trailed down, curving along the edge of Lysander’s jaw, tipping his head up a fraction.

“I suppose,” he said, “that you are not a total con artist.”

Lysander huffed. He supposed he could say the same about Damien not being completely arrogant coming up to an escape artist and telling him he’d clearly never been properly tied up before.

“Ready to come out?”

Lysander was back the following week.

They both agreed it was simply excellent practice after all.

[ben-talks-art]

Okay... This episode of Digital Circus almost made me cry... almost!

When I saw the first episode of this show I knew I was going to really like it, but I wasn't prepared for how much I was going to love it. This reminds me of when X-Men 97 premiered and even though we were only two episodes in I could already tell this was going to be something special.

I know it's super, super early to say this, but this might become one of my favorite shows. The way they handled this episode really worked for me in a way I haven't felt in a while.

From the very first scene things already start on a really strong note, with our main lead, Pomni, having nightmares about the worst-case scenario from the new situation she's in where she imagines herself being affected by the circus glitch and being abandoned by the rest of the cast.

This does a great job setting up her sense of isolation and how she thinks she's on her own even though they all should be on the same boat together.

This gets highlighted even more as another member of the circus, Ragatha, is seen constantly trying to show her support and getting Pomni to cheer up despite the dreadful situation they're in while Pomni herself just acts indifferent as if she had already given up on everything and everyone.

I found this characterization of hers so relatable because I also used to think for a while that my problems were mine and mine alone and that everyone trying to help me were doing that just out of obligation and not because they really cared.

For some reason it felt "safer" to just assume I couldn't count on anyone because then I wouldn't have to worry about being disappointed in anyone, after all, you can't get disappointed if you don't get your hopes up.

So imagine how hyped I got when I saw that they indirectly made Pomni realize why it's important to rely on people when they switched the roles and placed her on the position where she needed to be there for someone.

I wanted to jump and slam my desk while shouting "Perfect! Perfect! This is just perfect!!"

Everything that needed to be said was being said just in the right way, just at the right time, and with the right amount of emotion, just the right amount of seriousness and levity.

Cause here's the thing, the media often has this obnoxious tendency of portraying antisocial characters as people that need to just "Get over it."

A lot of writers enjoy lumping grumpy characters, and reserved characters, depressed characters, angry characters and all these stuff as people who just need someone to cheer them up and have them forget about their problems, as if they were babies that just need to grow up and learn to be less grumpy so they can join in with the fun alongside everyone else.

You notice that it's always a person in a bad mood + someone who's always cheerful, happy, and with a child-like joyful attitude to be their contrast or someone to call them out on their "grumpyness."

And that always bothers me because it makes it seem like they're downplaying someone's struggle or inner turmoil as if they were minor things that they latch onto to just because nobody has told them to let it go yet.

I like when stories showcase why people struggle so much to let go of this mindset, why they struggle to open up to others and find themselves cheering to their day-to-day lives again.

But I'm also aware that this is not an easy task cause it's basically asking to show someone being depressed for a good portion of your story, and if that goes on for too long or it starts diving into a too heavy of a territory, it can make it a challenge just to watch.

So yeah, I get it, it's hard to find the right balance.

To show why someone needs to overcome their personal demons, while also making it an enjoyable experience to go through.

You don't want a case like Legend Of Korra where Lin Beifong's issues were pretty much treated as a joke, but you also don't want something like the Beast Boy segments from Young Justice where every scene with him just felt the same thing for 5 or 6 episodes, even though they were realistic scenes depicting someone going through what he was dealing with and they all built up to an amazing conclusion with Black Canary... But it was still draining to go through that.

You need to find the right balance and I felt like this episode really succeeded in that. You get why Pomni feels the way she does and you get why Ragatha tries so hard to help her out and why it's important that she keeps trying even when it seems like there is no point.

I really like how Ragtha isn't just "Cheer up, Pomni! Let me show you the secret to enjoying life!", she's actually trying to be sensitive of her situation, giving her the space and time she needs, and being there for her but not forcing herself on her.

She validates Pomni's pain but also knows it's a pain that she needs to learn how to deal with, otherwise, she's just gonna miss out on her own life.

The final scene was the thing that really got me.

When Pomni finally realized that the same way she tried to help out that NPC when they were stuck, she also needs to let others help her out.

It took me so long to realize in life that I don't need to deal with everything on my own, that I had people there for me, that I'm allowed to be vulnerable and make mistakes and that the people around me who love and care about me would still be there for me.

It took way, way too long for me to realize all that, so to see that final shot of Pomni imagining herself falling just like in her dream, but this time she had trust that her friends would be there to catch her, it really hit me good.

I'm not sure how to explain it but for some reason I was really proud of her for learning such an important lesson so quickly that it took me so long to learn myself. Like, I know she's not real, she's a fictional character, but I felt an immense relief while thinking people would watch this, and learn from this, and not make the same mistakes I did.

I have no idea where this show is going, but I feel like I'm in safe hands and can't wait to see what else they're going to do and where they're going to go.

I'm very very hyped for this series!

Also, I know this makes me a monster, but this scene made me laugh. :)

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

I do agree with your assessment that Eridan is one of the more repressed trolls of the Alternian friend group but I do not believe so full-heartedly that he never found time to enjoy himself for a scant few seconds at minimum. So I ask you what does a week look like for Eridan Ampora on Alternia, and how much of it is composed of desperate posturing towards others?

It's less that he's never enjoyed himself and more that his perceived experience is that of never enjoying himself. He self-describes murder as "all i evver done practically," and while that's obviously not LITERALLY true, it's how he FEELS the truth to be - that his entire life has been dominated by this endless cycle of murder, preparing for murder, cleaning up after murder, thinking about murder, obsessing about murder, and feeling like he should be doing something about murder.

It's anxiety - Eridan is one of those people who has no idea what to do with himself if he doesn't have some sort of Task hanging over his head (we see it with his utter inability to make smalltalk with Feferi, and his general reluctance to shoot the shit without some sort of goal in mind for the conversation). Under these circumstances, any fun or enjoyment he DOES have feels stolen - like he shouldn't be having it. If you can lean, you can clean. If you have time to be watching a movie or shopping for clothes or playing pretend with your shitty wands, you have time to be MAKING SURE YOUR WHOLE SPECIES DOESN'T DIE IN AGONY.

It's not that he literally never has fun, it's that any fun he does have feels undeserved, unearned, and shameful. Distractions from his responsibilities. Failures to live up to expectations. That's why the few leisure activities we actually get to hear about or see him do are usually couched in being part of his duties - FLARPing with Vriska feeds their lusii, and his attempts to hang out with her are transparently hidden in trying to get her to build him doomsday devices. He dresses to emulate Dualscar first and foremost, and even though he prefers drama and romance, he only lets himself read them in the context of military history.

It makes his love of wizards more striking because he can't come up with a good excuse for it - he just ardently fucking loves magic and pretending to be a wizard. But even then, he clearly feels shame for liking magic, because he's constantly decrying it for being fake kiddie playtime shit for wigglers. See what I mean? It's not that he doesn't have fun, it's that he doesn't feel like he's ALLOWED to have fun. Even when he is doing things that are objectively fun, there's a part of his brain chastising him for wasting his time. He's always filled with a nonspecific fear that if he isn't doing something "useful," then Something Bad Will Happen. So to that end, as much as he's been able, he's tried to make his hobbies all somehow related to fulfilling his various overhanging Duties and Responsibilities, to the point where his own lived experience is one where he is perpetually on call. Das mental illness babey!!!!!

The one exception to this seems to be his long conversations with Karkat, where we actually see Eridan chill way the fuck out, crack jokes, and talk about his and Karkat's feelings. It helps that Karkat's, like, the only person on the team who takes Eridan's problems seriously.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

There's a small moment in the Hunter x Hunter 2011 anime that I thought was pretty cute. It's close to the beginning, during the Hunter Exam, when they're looking for pigs in the forest. Gon slides down a hill, and Killua follows him, only for him to crash because Gon had stopped at the bottom of the hill. This scene!

It's one of those rare little bits added by an adaptation that really add to the characters - because yeah, this was not in the manga.

I find this anime is really good at adding little moments that either

are just cute or endearing

are fun extra interactions that show off the character dynamics more

actually highlight something about the characters in question

This one, I feel, does all three. First of all, I just love seeing Killua a bit more involved in their group before the eventual reveal of "he just wanted to be friends". It's really sweet.

But mostly, I think it's interesting that Killua assumed Gon was just messing around, when Gon was actually focusing his efforts on beating the challenge. Because, sure, Killua finds Gon somewhat intriguing, and he really wants to stick around him due to his desire for a friend - but Killua still sees himself as a class above pretty much everyone else there, and also as an assassin in a category so firmly removed from "regular kid".

So, Killua totally misreads Gon here. He assumes Gon is just doing a regular kid thing and attempts to mimic it so he can join in. It doesn't actually occur to him that Gon was tracking the pigs, or focusing on the task at hand.

It's a far cry from later on, where Killua and Gon are primarily a team effort - in sync, aware of the others' strengths, and taking each other quite seriously.

And part of it, of course, is that they just don't know each other very well at this point. But I think another thing is that Killua, during most of the Hunter Exam, is more invested in what Gon represents than who he is, necessarily.

His first friend represents rebellion against his family, childish enjoyment, and the desire for connection and understanding that he is not receiving. And even though, as time goes on, he grows more and more impressed with Gon, I really don't think it fully clicked that he wanted that friend he wished for to be specifically Gon until he was confronted by Illumi.

I also think Killua takes Gon a lot more seriously after the fight with Hanzo, and especially after Gon went all the way to the Zoldyck estate to save him. Before the Hanzo fight, Killua was outright irritated by Gon being ranked higher than him overall, and was even a little bitter at the beginning of the fight ("I could've dodged that easily" comes to mind).

By Heavens Arena, I feel they both have a much firmer grasp on, and appreciation for, who the other is as a person. Killua is more consciously aware of his investment in Gon as an individual rather than an abstract, and Gon is aware of Killua's crappy upbringing and is quick to be very supportive of him as he figures things out for himself.

During the Hunter Exam though, a lot of the interactions between them feel a lot like Killua is either mimicking or acting out "regular kid" behaviours, either because that's what he thinks Gon is already doing, or he wants to see if Gon will respond in kind.

Aaaaand... he does. :)

So, while they do not have what I feel is a true depth of bond here yet, the foundation is already being laid down for their powerful friendship - Gon and Killua both show an immediate willingness and enjoyment to go along with what the other wants to do and to try out what the other is good at, and they wind up having a whole lot of fun together right off the bat.

[sillylittleguytm]

Nice to be Kneaded

Terzo x gn!reader

Warnings: Very slight suggestiveness at the end (for comedic purposes), the title is a stupid pun

Word Count: 808

Love from Your Papas Day 2: Baking with Terzo

A groan could be heard from just outside the kitchen accompanied by the soft flop of fabric hitting the counter– your white hand towel soiled with egg and flour. You were literally and metaphorically throwing in the towel, exasperated by your extensive baking tasks. Time seems to have flown by, your entire day spent in the kitchen, but the end wasn’t as close as you would like it to be. You curse yourself for making so many commitments. Offering friends and family the gift of baked goods seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it was overwhelming.

“Now, what did that mixer do to you, tesoro?” The voice snaps you out of your rage induced stare-off with the standing mixer in front of you. You laugh weakly thinking about how crazy you probably looked. You turn your head to look at your beloved Terzo. His presence could almost distract you from your distress. Almost.

“It's too much, Terzo. I thought I could handle this but it's just so overwhelming and-” Just as frustrated tears form in your eyes, Terzo steps forward and places his hands on your shoulders. He looks deeply and lovingly into your eyes.

“Breathe, alright? It's baking, it's a hobby. Don't stress yourself out over it. It's supposed to be fun.” Terzo says softly, attempting to lift your spirits. You bite your trembling bottom lip and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. His hands soothingly rub your shoulders as you take a moment to collect yourself. He's right, you shouldn't be so stressed over what's supposed to be a source of joy for you. 

“I know. I just made too many promises and I don't know how to keep them without overextending myself.” You say with a sigh. Terzo offers a sympathetic smile, his hands coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

“Then allow me to help.” Terzo offers. Immediately, you smile and shake your head. Terzo is the worst baker you know. He is an excellent chef and he would often cook nice, special meals for the both of you, but unfortunately, those skills do not translate into baking. He's not one for exact measurements, so his desserts often come out in odd shapes and textures that you weren't aware were even possible to achieve. Those abominations were enough to convince him to leave the baking up to you.

“While I appreciate the offer, I want these cookies to be edible.” You say with a laugh. Terzo returns your amused look. He kisses your cheek before sliding his hands down your arms to hold yours. 

“Then I shall be your emotional support.” He offers. You sigh and take a look at the kitchen. Two more types of cookies have to be made, and you think you just might manage with him by your side. You pull him into an embrace– a thank you for always being there. Terzo hums in appreciation, returning your tight embrace.

Soon after you separate, you head right back to work. Terzo acts as a dutiful assistant, retrieving ingredients, measuring spoons, and managing your dishes so you could finish up even faster. For his own enjoyment, he steals tastes of dough from the bowl and the occasional peck from you. He sure does make the long hours in the kitchen more bearable. You decide to put on music to which he dramatically sings along to, causing you to roll your eyes even though you inwardly love to watch him keep himself entertained.

Eventually, all the dough is done being made. You look over at Terzo, who is divvying out dough into evenly sized balls onto cookie sheets so they could enter the oven. He takes care to be extra precise, fully aware of your level of perfectionism and trying to honor it to the best of his ability. Your heart flutters at his effort. Thankful wouldn't be a strong enough word to describe how you felt towards his efforts. You walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Seriously, thank you so much for your help. I don't think I could have done this without you.” You say softly, placing gentle kisses to his temple. 

“It is nothing. You would do the same for me, no?” Terzo says, glancing up towards your face. You laugh and nod.

“If I saw you baking, I would usher you out of the kitchen.” Terzo lets out an exaggerated laugh before a deadpan expression falls over his face, making you laugh even harder. “Since you've been such a good helper, I think you deserve a reward.”

Terzo raises an eyebrow at you, a smirk gracing his lips. “Is that so, amore? You'd like to reward your Papa?” 

“Yes, I would. You get to taste-test these cookies.”

[lyraeon]

A while back I learned something important from my therapist, and since I was trying to recount it anyway to share with a friend, I thought I would bring it to y'all as well.

We have all had at least one of those days where we've stayed up way too late doing something fun but we just don't want to stop doing it. Logically I figured that's just because "well yeah I don't want to stop, I have to go to sleep then to work and those suck compared to it."

Except then that starts happening often and you feel bad about always staying up every night, but then you feel worse and get more stressed because you know you're doing something you're "not supposed to", but because you're more stressed you want more fun time... endless cycle.

But as I was talking about it all and told her I thought I was self-sacrificing, the therapist had a very useful question for me:

"How do you normally know it's time to stop having fun? Like you know it's time to finish work because your shift's over, you know it's time to stop doing the dishes when they're all done or the washer's full, what is your signal to stop having fun?"

And I had to search for a while to answer.

"When the activity is done" - okay sure, but many games and books and series, or doing your own creative thing, "done" may take days upon days or even be non-existent.

"When I had to pass the controller" - obvious and easy one! If you knew you had a finite turn then the defined end is readily there, and you're also prepared for it! But requires pre-arranging the limits.

"When I got in trouble for it" - ding ding ding, we found the big problem.

When you grow up with "fun" being a forbidden activity you're only allowed to do after everything else is done to 100% perfection, then you learn to sneak it in where you can fit it. And you need that shit, seriously - you cannot get through life without some source of enjoyment, some tiny glimmer of joy among the tedium.

Many of us learned to read under the covers, or to play our gameboy in the bathroom and hide it under the sink, or that we could get away with running around the backyard for another 20 minutes if we just learned which intonation of "come inside" was the actual trouble line, or whatever other ways to cram in as much joy as we could before the hammer came down, for whatever severity that meant in your house.

And so that feeling of "I shouldn't be doing this, I'm going to get caught, but if I'm going to get in trouble anyway I might as well get as much out of this as I can" becomes part of what you expect to feel when you're having fun. And you only know how to stop having fun when you feel that way when you get in trouble for it - and in absence of anyone else controlling your behavior, that means the bad guy becomes either whatever task pops up to remind you responsibilities exist, or your significant other pointing out it's really late and they wish you'd come to bed, or your boss yelling at you for being tired all the time... or it becomes you.

If you don't learn that fun isn't a forbidden activity, if you stay stuck in the mindset that it's something you have to cram in in secret and hide that you're even doing? It becomes so so easy to hate the voice of reason in your head that's trying to encourage moderation and we're going to regret this tomorrow.

And that escalates. You keep being too tired the next day. You keep feeling even worse when you sit down to enjoy yourself the next night because now you're already tired, so stress gets to you faster, and now you feel guilty about how late you're staying up so you're not really enjoying playing your game or scrolling Tumblr or whatever anymore, you're just nervously glancing at the clock, "have I spent too long yet? How much longer can I do this before I get in trouble?"

Even though now you're in your 20s or 30s and it's been a decade since the last time anyone else told you it was bed time.

Learning that you're allowed to have fun isn't easy; guilt and shame are emotions that run very, very deep. And neither is learning to have a healthier relationship with saying "okay, that's enough for today".

For one, you have to stop threatening yourself. "Tomorrow is gonna suck" and "You're going to regret this" and "we're going to get in trouble at work" don't work. You already feel bad, you already know it's gonna suck, so why wouldn't you try to cram in one more hour now while it's not the day that's going to suck yet? Punishment is not incentive.

Because by now you're in a situation where sleep is a horrifying punishment that ends any fun, but you're not enjoying your fun anyway because you're tired all the time on top of feeling ashamed for doing something fun, and you're spending the entire time beating yourself up for being an idiot with no self control who can't even handle going to bed on time like a normal human being...

etc etc etc.

You will hear a lot of people give advice on how to get rid of the idea of having to "earn" sleep or fun or happiness by doing "enough" other things. To learn to accept that just being alive is enough reason to "deserve" to do those things. That will work for some people, but for others it just ends up one more thing to scold yourself about, especially when you're already in the habit not of denying yourself entirely but instead of doing it and feeling guilty the whole time.

But learning to set limits ahead of time, so that you're not anticipating some unknown time that a nebulous authority figure is going to finally have their horror monster timer run out and leap out at you but instead know when and what to expect? Holy shit it helped.

Don't get me wrong, it hella felt like depriving myself at first, like I was being grounded, and I looked at my phone beeping saying it was bedtime quite often and got annoyed.

But then I stopped treating fun as something that had to wait until the end of the day and everything else had to be done first. It is way easier to stare down sleep and go "I don't need you", especially if you have any kind of insomnia making the idea of being in bed a dreadful one on top of it. It is harder to say that about dinner, or calling a friend, or walking the dog. Plus then the day isn't over yet, so giving up on your fun isn't also accepting that as the defining moment of the end of your day!

So you have to start practicing looking for places to squeeze in a little more fun - "I've got an hour before dinner, that's perfect to make some tea and watch two episodes." "My favorite youtuber just put up a new video, why don't I take a break to watch it before I finish this homework?" "I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow anyway, and if I leave an hour early I could go kick around the bookstore first."

And once you do, fun starts to feel less shameful.

Don't get me wrong, if your issues run deep enough it still does sometimes. But when you get to have these moments of joy that you don't feel the need to hide or apologize for and where punishment isn't part of the routine, then fun stops feeling like something you have to dig your claws into for fear of having it taken away from you once someone catches you with it. And that means that finishing a level and glancing over at the clock is something you do because it actually managed to click a satisfaction switch in your head and you wondered if it was a good note to end on for now, instead of something you do with your breath held and the berating words already cycling in your mind.

I am not offering this advice expecting it to work for everyone or be easy or anything like that. I am someone with Depression, ADHD, and pretty severe PTSD sharing a technique that one therapist told me that really happened to click for and help me specifically, in case it might help someone else be a little nicer to themselves today, too.

[i-like-forcefem]

Minors and bigots DNI! The name tells ya all that you need to know!

But if you insist: I’m an 18 year old Aro/Ace gal who wants to make some casual posts and maybe have some kinky fun

I’m an attention whore :3 DMs are open! And asks are always lovely! Please stop by for a chat if you feel like it! (I’m down for everything from: giving ya tasks, to talking about gender, to giving you board game recommendations!)

Though I might take a bit to respond! School started again and I’ve already met so so so many amazing cuties I want to keep up with (every conversation so far has been so fun!), I will get to you I promise! But I do need to manage my social energy levels so that I can still function during the day

And I’m kinda liking keeping this blog a little bit sfw? Minors should still stay safe just in case, but I’m liking the more wholesome vibes we’ve got going here for now :3

Kink, tagging and important reblog blog info under the cut :3

Kink: im experimenting right now! So feel free to message me and whatever try! I obviously love forcefem (the name is an understatement!) and I’m down to both sub and dom and further I haven’t found a kink I’m fully *not* into

Fav Kinks: -Forcefem (Love to read about, shockingly hard to sub or dom for over text without going all in :/) -Humilation -Hentai Logic -PetPlay

Hated Kinks: -None! -No seriously I wanna experiment anything is fine! -(Rape-threaths are okay, Omorashi is something I'm a lot more into then I thought I would, ageplay is humilliating and I love humiliation, hypnosis is in it's own tear of enjoyment) -Both for subbing and domming! -(And dw I won't block anyone for doing stuff I'm not into! Just be normal about it if I respond saying I surprisingly didn't like it and we're okay!) Boundaries: I’ll never send a picture of myself (though I love getting pictures, if you wanna show how cute you are please do so! I promise I love to see it)

Tags: I tag everything! There’s an example in the tags of this post, and for normal tagging my main tags are: -forcefem -not forcefem -I can’t believe it’s not forcefem (for stuff that gives off forcefem energy, but isn’t explicitly about it) -I-like-talking (orginal posts, some of my) -serious talks -petplay (or p4tplay, I've used both) -BDSM -ageplay

The list might expand in the future, but this should be most of it :3

Important reblogs: I’m still unsure whether I should reblog important posts like Palestine donation pleas, since from the one hand they’re very important and you should see them, but from the other people are coming to this blog for a very specific reason and I don’t want to put them out of the mood by reminding them of the on going terror (that said people are dying right as we speak… but I don’t know if it’d do anything about it if I reblogged posts like that to my 30 followers, it might do more harm then good as it just makes people who already donated all they can sad they can’t donate more… and I only reblog max 4 pots in a day too)

Idk, I’ll keep it out of my reblogs for now, but that might change in the future!

Oh and I always remain the right to block people! I haven’t used it yet, but I won’t hesitate!

Alright that’s all cuties! Have fun exploring the blog :3

[dargo9]

Spoilers for Taskmaster Australia series 2 winner below...

So what went on during that doomed NYC trip that made everyone* win their respective seasons of Taskmaster afterwards?

(*Obviously James is not included in that "everyone," but am I right in assuming he'd already taped his tasks before the trip? I hadn't discovered TM yet, but judging by the current schedule, series 7 began airing in September 2018, which means the studio stuff would have been shot in the Spring, but presumably the task footage would have been filmed in Fall 2017? So the NYC magic was too late for James... But if I've got the timeline wrong, then we need to figure out what the other three did that James didn't...)

Seriously, though, TMAU series 2 was extremely enjoyable, and I was very happy for Lloyd. Ed's and John's uber-competitiveness in their respective series was fun to watch, but there was something lovely about Lloyd's good-natured chill-ness. (Can you imagine the absolute stink-- and rightfully so-- Ed or John would have raised if faced with the stupid all-or-nothing scoring on the pub quiz task?)

Probably neither will happen, but I'd love to see Lloyd on the UK Taskmaster just as much as I'd like to see Sam Campbell on the Australian one.

[iamthecomet]

here to beg for boot worship please!!!!

ask and you shall receive.

Kinktober - Day 18 - Boot Worship

AKA: The Boot Thing, part 3.

1.4k words of Mountain finally, finally, getting on his knees for Dew to see what all the fuss is about. Dew's a little mean because that's the way I like him. Bonus, little hints of what might happen if I ever write another part to this.

Mountain would say he doesn’t know how this happened. It would be a lie. It’s been brewing. Hovering. A storm building on the horizon of his life, moving in. 

Dew taps his boot against Mountain’s bare thigh and his chest clenches. He flexes his fingers against his thighs but keeps them where Dew told him to. He ignores the way his cock twitches against his boxers. Getting chubbier with each passing second. 

This had been coming since the first time he made Dew cum in his pants with the toe of his boot pressed against his zipper. Mountain had been pushing it back. Telling himself that he liked it when Dew debased hismelf at his feet. Rutted his hips into Mountain’s foot until he swore and collapsed in on himself. But that was the end of Mountain’s enjoyment of it. 

Even when Dew would drag his hot mouth over where Mountain sat fat in his jeans while he rocked his hips against the laces of Mountain’s boots. Mountain could lose himself in it. In the hurt noises Dew made. He’s so pretty when he begs–when he really means it, eyes wide, face red, jaw slack. 

He isn’t Dew. Doesn’t crave a rough touch. Doesn’t always look for physical pain with his pleasure. The idea of grinding his bare dick on the rough sole of Dew’s stage worn boots seemed insane to him for months. Even on the days when Dew would drop to his knees and beg Mountain for just that. 

But this? 

Mountain shudders. He’ll say it’s from the cold, not the task at hand. But Dew will never believe him. Not with the fire roaring behind him. Dew’s backlit in orange and red. Menacing despite his stature. Dressed in black skinny jeans, no shirt. And his boots. 

Mountain tries not to look too much at them, but they draw his eyes. Leather shining. Dew doesn’t take care of many things. His guitars. His boots. That’s it–but he takes it seriously. More seriousl than Mountain who threw his boots in his closet and hasn’t thought about them since they got home. Not until now. 

But he’s pretty like this too. The cool toe of his boot dragging down the inside of Mountain’s thigh. Raising goosebumps as he balances on one leg. 

He wonders if maybe he can convince Dew to work on them. Can talk him into some boot-blacking without actually asking for it. Mountain’s usually better at asking for what he wants. But this is harder. He doesn’t understand it himself. Why he likes it.

It’s not control. Dew has been decidedly in control of all of their encounters involving boots. Mountain floundering after him even though Dew is the one on his knees. Maybe it’s because Dew looks so pretty when he’s giving orders from the ground. 

Dew’s gentle about it. Far gentler than he’d asked Mountain to be. When Dew reaches down pet at Mountain’s hair there’s softness in it that makes Mountain’s chest ache. He leans his face into the warmth of Dew’s palm when he brings it lower. Strokes his thumb over the freckled span of Mountain’s cheekbone. 

Dew presses his boot up higher, shuffles a little closer. The foot he’s balanced on planted firmly on the outside of Mountain’s thigh. Leather brushing over Mountain’s skin as Dew shifts. 

Dew drags the toe of the boot up. Over the underside of Mountain’s cock where it’s tenting his boxers already. Mountain chokes on an inhale. Eyes darting down to watch Dew’s boot graze over him. So shiny he can see himself in the reflection of it. 

“Dew–”

“Take it out. Balls too.” 

Mountain does. Shoving his boxers down just far enough to get his cock free. Bunching the fabric under his balls rather than try to shift to take them all the way off.  

The way Dew looks down at him makes him feel like he’s on display. A specimen. Something to be studied. His cheeks are hot. His chest is too. He flexes his fingers again. Aches to touch Dew, himself, anything. 

Dew braces himself by wrapping his fingers around Mountain’s horn and angles his foot. Pressing the sole flat against the underside of Mountain’s cock. 

Dew nods sharply. “Go ahead.” 

The worn treads are softer than Mountain expected. Blunted from hours on stage. They don’t give when he rocks into them–but they don’t hurt. Not jagged, or rough. It’s pleasant in a way he isn’t expecting. 

He rolls his hips again, experimental. Short slow rolls at first working up into longer ones. Catching the fat head of his cock on the ridge at the toe on each down stroke. Mountain can’t stop now. Eyes pulled down to Dew’s boot, his cock spitting precum against the immaculate leather. 

Dew’s fingers tighten on Mountain’s horn as his thrusts grow more forceful, threatening to rock Dew backward. That doesn’t help. Dew’s fingers grasping at one of the most sensitive parts of him. Holding on as Mountain fucks himself on his book. 

He’s red down to his chest–he knows it. Embarassed about how close he’s gotten so quickly. About how much he likes this thing he swore he wouldn’t. 

“Told you,” Dew taunts. That doesn’t help. It just makes the well of pleasure in his gut burn brighter.  Mountain would love to answer him. To tell him it’s alright. To be like Swiss, able to play off desperation as apathy. But he can’t. Wears his heart on his sleeves at the best of times and these are not the best of times. 

Dew allows Mountain the indulgence of his own pleasure for a few more strokes. Then those fingers tigthen even further on his horns. Both hands now, one on each. He pulls. Dragging Mountain’s head to press against Dew’s overwarm body. 

“Don’t be lazy,” Dew admonishes. Rolling his own hips against Mountain’s cheek so he can feel the impossible heat of his erection trapped in his jeans. Mountain groans. Doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do. He can’t think beyond each rough thrust. Against the grind of his cock over the rubbery softness of Dew’s boot. 

Mountain nods. Looking moon-eyed up at Dew’s face. The fire behind him makes his skin flicker, orange, red, golden. With his hair tied back like it is Mountain can see the muscle in his shoulders. Strong despite his stature. Pretty in a way that Mountain has never been able to reconcile with. Impossible, and yet still here somehow. Willing to let Mountain cum on his boots. 

He opens his mouth to promise Dew that he’ll suck him off after he cums. Whatever he wants. Just give him two more minutes. But the only thing that comes out is an intelligible gurgle.

“Satanas, fucked you stupid already?” Dew laughs. He uses his grip to tip Mountain’s head up so they can look at each other. Mountain’s cock kicks, precum dribbles over the top of Dew’s boot, marring the shiny surface at the toe.  

Dew leans down, bending at the waist to lick into Mountain’s mouth, held open by his slack jaw. Dew tastes like cigarettes. Like cinnamon. He smells like boot polish. Something about it drags Mountain ever closer to the edge. 

“Wanna touch,” Mountain whispers when Dew pulls away and straightens back up. 

The words are barely out of Dew’s mouth before Mountain’s hands are on him. One curled around the top of the leg Dew’s using to anchor himself. The other on his belly, pressed flat over his belly button. Thumb pressed over the button of Dew’s jeans. Mountain leans forward. Presses his mouth to Dew’s cock. Laving at the head with his tongue. Tasting salt, and smoke. Dew groans, low and languid. Mountain doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. 

“Then touch,” Dew shrugs. 

His cheeks flush with hean when he sees the smears, The cloudy streaks all over Dew’s perfect boots. He swallows, he looks up at Dew. A question rattling around in his head that he doesn’t have the wherewithal to keep in anymore.

Dew shifts, he presses the toe of his boot down on the underside of the head of Mountain’s cock and rolls it back and forth. Mountain tries to warn him, but he can’t form words. Doesn’t want to stop suckling at Dew’s clothed cock long enough to bother. So all that comes out is a broken whine before Mountain is cumming. Shoot hot and thick over the edge of Dew’s boots. Splattering on the toe, the lacing, and the floor beneath them. 

Dew puts both feet back on the ground. The toe of his boot still resting high between Mountain’s thighs. Mountain drags his mouth away from Dew cock long enough to look down at the mess he’s made.

“What can you teach me about boot-blacking?”

Dew grins, “everything.”

[aardvaark]

having just watched the Rundown Job. that fucked. I feel like this is what it would be like if the Big Bang Job had just an iota more self respect. for some reason BBJ is just toooooo corny I can't take it seriously, smth about eliot trying to have his emo backstory and big gun fight in one episode, but hardison and his magic Hacker Overlay and the trio drift compatible action movie-ing thru without a mastermind had me by the THROAT

the rundown job is THE ot3 episode. whether you prefer parker/hardison/eliot, or parker/hardison & eliot, or any other formation of those three, they certainly undeniably work very well together. they move in sync. they know each other so well that they don't even have to talk half the time. they've developed so much trust for each other when you compare this episode to season 1 jobs, and that mutual trust has brought all of their already-incredible talents to a new level.

you'll find that the leverage producers/writers/etc call it "competence porn", ie having scenes of the characters being extremely competent at what they do. it's fascinating and awesome just to watch them, don't even need much dialogue or plot pressure or anything. and that's really a testament to the actors' acting abilities & the stunt performers' skills.

plus we get all of their paired dynamics too! i love the parker & eliot dynamic where they’re both very task-oriented, logical, dangerous people. in the lost heir job episode commentary, john rogers had this to say...

[from @leverage-commentary]

...which i love. i love that dynamic, and you can see it in the rundown job too. except the lost heir job was season 2, and the rundown job is season 5, and that makes a difference in some respects - they're not so much hiding that from hardison, for one thing. and hardison doesn't need them to hide it, cause he seems to mostly think they're super fucking cool. except for when they're scaring the shit out of him, like parker burning the disease at the last second or eliot getting shot etc etc. mostly he thinks they're super cool though lol.

and while i tend to think that the "seeing math in the air" thing is usually a cheesy trope (like the spencer reid version. why is jesus there), i honestly really liked seeing inside hardison's head for once. it wasn't just random numbers like the confused math lady meme:

no, he's mapping the whole thing out in his head: we see some if-then-else flowcharts, he's picturing the direction the gears will turn, etc etc. he's figuring out how it will logically work and how it will mechanically work. to figure out all these problems in his mind, which he does every episode... well, he really is a genius, never forget it!

plus of course we get parker showing off her skills by jumping on trains + laser gymnastics + upside-down bomb defusing, and we get eliot skills of disturbingly calm negotiations + of course the fight scenes. they've each come such a long way too... eg hardison being way calmer about leaning on a bomb (again!) lol... ugh i could rant forever about how much i love these characters!!

i think the big bang job's gun fight is part of the eliot angsty stuff cause he had to shoot (and therefore likely kill) people for the first time in a long time. for action movie enjoyers, The Implications TM certainly dampen the action fun, so i get what you mean. i don't mind eliot angsty moments though. eliot IS kinda emo deep down sometimes - however, if hardison or someone called him that, there'd be hell to pay lol.

thank you for the ask, i love discussing this show!! :)

[thedeerman]

RadioApple Week Day 5: Domestic

I honestly wasn't sure what to choose for this one, but I just love this scene too much. I think it fits.

An excerpt from DYWTK Ch37: Reach

Understanding, the king turned, pulling his wings in enough to not hit Alastor in the face with them, and said, “Don’t go judging me for how messy the feathers are though, you’ve already got me all self conscious now.”

The radio demon stepped closer, once again running his hand over one of the huge wings. Lucifer seemed to shiver a bit at the contact, making Alastor wonder just how sensitive they were. Perhaps that’s why they’re always hidden away, he thought.

Gently, Alastor began tugging loose feathers from the base of Lucifer’s wings and dropping them on the ground. The king tried to turn around, probably to ask what the demon was doing, but Alastor didn’t let him. “Stay still or this is going to take me all night,” he demanded.

“Are you… Preening me?” Lucifer asked with a laugh. “You don’t plan on keeping every feather though, right…?”

The demon only rolled his eyes. His shadow picked up a few of the feathers on the ground and smiled at them. They then disappeared into the shadow as if they were never there. That fucking thing does have pockets… Alastor thought to himself. 

“No, your majesty, I will not be collecting every last bit of you to add to some collection. However, I won’t be making any promises for Niffty.” The king shuddered a bit at that. What a strange being. The most powerful soul in Hell and yet it’s simple little Niffty that shakes him. 

The pile of giant feathers was getting larger, and there were still so many left to remove. Every time one fell out, it seemed like ten more were in its place. Eventually Alastor said, “Sit.” The king did as he was told without question, making the radio demon smile wide. The great Lucifer, sitting on command like a dog. Only for Alastor, hopefully. 

Once the angel was seated cross-legged in the grass, Alastor knelt down only a foot or so behind him. The massive wings were now draped over the king’s shoulder’s like a shawl, giving the demon much better access to the bunches of feathers underneath the top layer. He put on a little bit of music, and the two sat and listened in silence as the radio demon tidied up his fallen angel.

They sat like that for what had to have been at least an hour, Alastor gently removing old feathers and dropping them in his lap while listening to classical music. By the time the task seemed to be done, he was absolutely covered in the things. It was as if the radio demon had destroyed a bunch of giant, feather stuffed pillows and sat himself in the pile that resulted.

Admiring his work, Alastor broke the silence. “Darling, I believe you may have had enough loose feathers to bury someone with. Let’s not let these magnificent wings of yours be neglected any longer, hm?”

Lucifer looked over his shoulder with wide eyes, just now seeing the absolutely ridiculous amount of angel feathers covering Alastor like a blanket. After the moment of shock, he spun around to face the radio demon and laughed. Now kneeling in front of him, the king said, “Aww man, Al, you’re covered in… Me!” He was laughing even harder now, plucking bits of stray feather fluff from Alastor’s hair and clothes, not that it mattered much. He was literally sitting in a pile of them.

After his laughter had ceased, the king just stared at Alastor with a smile. “Seriously though, thank you. My wings haven’t felt this good in… Well, longer than you’ve existed.”

The radio demon responded, “Well now, we can’t allow that. My king should be properly groomed at all times. I suppose that means I’ll be forced to preen you more often, what a bother.” 

Of course, it wasn’t really any inconvenience. It was a rather enjoyable experience, actually. Sitting, listening to music, staring at the most brilliant blood red and pure white feathers, brushing his fingers through what must have been the softest texture in existence. And, best of all, Lucifer couldn’t leave even if he tried. He was forced to sit still in front of Alastor, listening to music and feeling the radio demon’s clawed fingers caress his wings. The entire scene had been absolutely ethereal.

Lucifer pulled the demon from his thoughts by leaning forward. Now only inches from Alastor’s face, he said, “Oh yes, what a bother. I was definitely getting the sense that you were annoyed at the whole process. Don’t worry, I suppose I won’t really need to ask for another fifty years or so…” He caught on to that one pretty damn quick.

Before Alastor could respond to the king’s sarcastic remarks, the angel closed the gap between them and kissed him. It was so reminiscent of the first time he’d done so, it was almost eerie. It was perfect. The way Lucifer was acting now, the radio demon was quite sure his miserable few days were at an end. Vees be damned, Alastor absolutely was not going to share the attention of his little king.

When Lucifer pulled away from him, he had another sly smile and said, “You wanna go play some music?” Whoever said that Hell was nothing but eternal suffering clearly had never met the man in charge. He might cause a little suffering here and there, but overall, Alastor's darling king was simply a delight. Such an odd being. So powerful, yet so weak. So vicious, yet so kind. The King of Hell, the most brilliant of the archangels. And he belongs to me.  

Alastor smiled wide and brushed a few strands of hair from Lucifer’s face. “Absolutely, dear. I’d love nothing more.” 

[therentyoupay]

Hellooo! Sending this ask purely because I need someone to kick my butt into writing gear :'D but how do you manage writing without getting bogged down with self-doubt? My brain has the tendency to cripple my creativity and then I convince myself that the writing is trash. Even though no one but me is reading it at the moment.

HELLO LOVELY! ✨ i'm so sorry it's been so long since you sent this ask; i've been bogged down with academia but i promise i have been pondering your ask for these past three months now!!

honestly, this semester i'm relying on a lot of similar strategies for overcoming self-doubt in my dissertation writing process right now that i used to experience with my fanfiction (and still occasionally do, but it was a lot more prevalent in my teenage years and early 20s). regardless of the genre and context, i totally get how self-doubt can sneak in and mess with your writing and creativity and the enjoyment of the process. here are some things i do, which i'm sure lots of people have shared before, but it probably bears repeating!!

re: "trash": first of all, even trash is good. trash is SOMETHING. trash means creation and some form of use. seriously, even if you hate what you write at first, IT IS SOMETHING. remember it is generally easier to edit (even if you delete it all later) something than to create from scratch, especially if a long time has passed and you've built up the task in your head. i say let yourself write without judgment for a set period (like 10-15 minutes). don’t worry about grammar, structure, or quality. just get out your thoughts in whatever stream of consciousness makes sense to you and bypass your inner critic. this is a skill that needs to be developed and honed through practice. second, if you're bad at bypassing the inner critic at first, name it and tell it to shut up ("be quiet, reginald"), and carry on. repeat until it's actually easy, and then reginald doesn't even talk that much anymore.

separate writing and editing: on that note, write first, edit later. trying to do both at the same time can kill creativity. write freely, knowing you can refine and improve your work later. on that that note, you can always take a break from writing one thing to go write another thing and then come back to it when your head is more clear and your eyes have freshened!

set small goals: break your writing task into smaller, manageable goals. i like to set word count goals OR "write for X minutes" OR "write Y scene(s)" goals. i do this with both my dissertation and my fanfiction and my non-fic book writing, depending on the day, the deadlines, and the vibes. remember that small wins can build momentum and confidence. another thing i like to do to loosen up and get back into the swing of things via small-goal-setting is to post baby drabbles and micro-fic on tumblr!

positive self-talk: watch your inner dialogue. swap negative thoughts ("this is terrible/trash/whatever") with positive ones ("this is a draft, and it’ll get better with revision"). this is a skill!!!! practice it!!!! related: your writing may be a reflection of you in many ways, but it is not you; writing garbage on an off day does not mean that you are garbage or that your writing is always garbage. separate the skills, performance/product, and person. (and remember: garbage is still something, and you can edit it later.)

create a routine, if you can: this one doesn't quite always work for me, to be honest, due to the nature of my workday, BUT, when I'm able to do things consistently, i do like to set up a regular writing routine! consistency can help reduce anxiety and make writing feel like a natural part of your day. when i was in grad school (the first time) and working i used to write while on my commute, every day, on my phone; those of you who were with me in 2015 remember the prolific sorcery of that year. 😂

seek feedback: share your work with a trusted friend, beta reader, fellow writer, etc. sometimes you don't want to unleash your writing to the full internet right away, and that's totally fine and normal, but you still want constructive feedback. find a friend who will beta!!! they can reassure you and point out areas you might not have noticed. (and receiving and incorporating feedback is its own skill worthy of its own post, but i shall leave it for now!!)

CELEBRATE progress: i'm so serious, recognize and celebrate your progress, no matter how small. enjoy each kudos!!! each like!! each posted fic! each drabble!! each reblog!!! each bookmark!!!! reward yourself for reaching milestones (1 kudos, 10 kudos, 10,000 kudos, 1 comment, 200 comments, 1 hit, 5 hits, 500 hits, 1 story posted, 12 stories posted) to reinforce positive behavior. 😉 basic applied behavioral analysis and behaviorist psych!! (remember: positive self-talk, setting small goals)

visualize success: i do this one all the time for basically everything in my life lol (teaching, public speaking, finishing my dissertation, book tours for my non-fic books, winning awards, finishing fics). close your eyes, and picture yourself finishing your writing project successfully. how does it feel? what do you see? who is there? how does it smell? what are you wearing? where are you? what do you hear? visualization can boost motivation and reduce fear of failure and can give you all sorts of goody feel-good chemicals. your brain literally can't tell what's real or not real sometimes, so give it something tangible to make the task feel like it's literally in your reach (because it is 😉). this is, interestingly enough, also an incredible boost for writing itself, haha.

clean something first: maybe this is just me, but clean your desk beforehand. 😂 or go to a café or something. new fresh space. but don't let yourself get distracted by that either!!

read for inspiration: read works by authors you admire to get inspired and remind yourself why you love writing. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

WRITE. WRITE WRITE WRITE. WRITE LIKE THE WIND MY LOVE.

[whoredmode]

big info post on the antagonists in the srtt rewrite! similar to the ones i did for the sriv rewrite antagonists. originally i wasn’t gonna make one bc i was like y’all know the antagonists in srtt, but i adjust things in it enough where i’m like. yeah maybe i should make a post for it. some of this stuff is probably already familiar to you if you keep up with my rewrites at all, so apologies in advance for some stuff that you may have heard before

so right after the end of sr2, phillipe loren had offered dex protection from ultor. dex, extremely desperate, accepted the deal even if he wasn’t happy about it. in return for protection, loren wanted information on ultor and the saints. once the plot of srtt starts, dex is still with the syndicate, essentially stuck in a deal he was never gonna be able to repay and get out of. however, loren is killed by oleg within the first act of the story, and so dex assumed he’d be able to leave after that. killbane, however, is not gonna let that happen, so dex is still stuck with them as the story continues. 

so killbane’s whole deal is very similar to what we see in the actual game, but my lore for him for the rewrite is a mix of both implications and stuff that we can learn through things like the radio ads and the game guide—basically things that are unfortunately not shown or done in the actual game. so killbane was a pretty famous wrestler in the states during the 1980s. he was glamorous, he was powerful, and he knew how to put on a show. however, he got addicted to steroids fairly early on in his career, and his temper became more and more of an issue. this all culminated in what is considered one of the most infamous moments in wrestling history where he ended up killing his opponent live on-air. it was ruled an accident, as it genuinely was one, but killbane was disgraced and had to quit  then and there. he left for mexico shortly afterwards to get away from it all, where he ended up getting intrigued by lucha libre. he met angel, and the two quickly became an unstoppable and lovable tag team. about a decade after the match that ended his wrestling career, killbane was back in the states, this time with angel by his side. the two had a good run, becoming more famous than before and loving every minute of it. however, killbane was still abusing steroids this entire time, and as time went on, he grew more erratic and paranoid and violent. fearful that angel was coming for his crown, he challenged him to a match which led to killbane unmasking him and angel leaving the limelight for good. killbane’s career, however, only grew larger. it was around this time when he also really started to seriously get into the drug trade, but i’ll talk more about that in a minute.

onto the dewynter sisters. so kiki and viola are actually ultor-sent assassins/spies. they’d been on a several years-long mission within the syndicate, tasked with rising in the ranks of the syndicate, getting information on their operations, and eventually killing loren. they’ve been on this mission since before dane vogel was ultor CEO (side note: i think kiki and dane knew each other and had a thing going on. just because i’m a kikidane enjoyer). all that said though, once eric gryphon became CEO, he changed their main target to dex. the sisters are extremely good at their work, and everything they do they do together. that said, despite their expertise and passion, they will always put each other first. it’s why when killbane eventually kills kiki, viola abandons her mission and decides to help the saints instead. she lost kiki, so nothing matters to her anymore. 

and finally matt miller. so the deckers were originally a relatively small hacking group he put together back home in england, but their work caught the eye of loren, who eventually contacted him and offered him an important role within the syndicate. the deckers themselves are comparatively small within the syndicate, but their work predominantly deals in cyberspace, so it works out. he doesn’t get out much, nor does he do any big missions with the others, but he’s still eager for their approval, especially killbane’s. killbane has kinda taken him under his wing—unbeknownst to matt, the reason killbane has been so buddy-buddy with him is because he plans on taking the syndicate from loren, long before loren actually died. early on, in a bid for killbane’s approval, matt took out kinzie’s whole investigation. kinzie, while still in the FBI, had been tasked with part in a large investigation into killbane’s drug racket. he’d been smuggling steroids and opioids into steelport, both for his own consumption and also to sell to the huge wrestling community in the area. matt caught wind of this and set up kinzie so she’d lose her job, all so killbane would be proud of him. he was, but this also sparked kinzie and matt’s ongoing feud. matt’s just a kid, so he’s very awkward when dealing with the other members irl, so he tends to just stick by killbane. 

there’s more i could say but i’m cutting myself off because this post is long enough. as always though please feel free to ask me about my rewrites whenever

[bestaiapplications]

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