#Waiting it out isn't helping so I'm just gonna have to keep drawing until this stupid art block goes away forever

[bi-writes]

Okay since MOB is into showing Simon her new dresses she needs one with the milk maid neckline. Like seeing her yitties alluo and pretty I’m sure will get a similar result as her cherry dress lol

simon is a tits man, what can i say?

mail-order bride (18+)

"you can't be fuckin' serious," simon mutters. it's the first thing he says to you when he comes home. there you are, seated on the carpet in the living room, a puzzle spread out on the coffee table as a movie plays on the television.

the skirt of your dress fans out around you, and you raise a brow as you look at him, putting one of the corner pieces into place before folding your hands in your lap.

"what's wrong?" you ask, and simon nearly throws his gear off, tearing his mask off and pointing at you, or more specifically, your dress.

"tha' right there," he says with a scoff. "you havin' a laugh, baby?"

you shake your head, picking up another piece of the puzzle. it's an edge piece, and you look down to start finding it's place.

"i have no idea what you're talking about, simon."

"up. get up."

"simon, can't you see i'm doing this?" you whine, and you finally give in, looking up at him. "can't you wait just a little bit?"

"no."

you sigh, using the table for leverage as you stand, and simon grunts as he makes his way closer, taking your hands in his until he hoists you onto your feet. you can't contain your giggles as he backs you up into the couch, and you squeal with delight when he forces you onto your back, getting right on top of you, suffocating you as he holds himself up with just a hand beside your head as his other fists the little bow on the front of your dress.

you arch your back when he undoes the tie. your tits fall free from the dress as he tugs the fabric under them, and he wastes no time, leaning in and sucking one nipple into his mouth.

your eyes shut, and your toes curl. simon is so tender usually, so careful, but today he's sloppy. he sucks more purposefully, swirling his tongue around your nipple, not satisfied until it's pebbled and hard inside of his mouth. when he's satisfied, he moves to the other, his spit gathering against your chest as he licks, sucks, devours.

you can't help how soaked your panties become. you drool into them, back bowed and rigid as your husband lays there and nearly eats. he's so filthy, nasty with it, brain muddled as he cups the fat of your breast and spits on it just to lick it back up. your hips jerk, and simon groans, bucking his own hips to meet yours.

christ, he's getting off on this, isn't he? yeah. simon is so fucking enamored with you that he's getting off on simply drawing soft whines from you as he presses your tits together and nearly slobbers all over them. his pupils are blown wide, big hands fondling them as he ruts his hips against yours, giving you something nice and solid to grind against as you brace yourself with your hands pressed against the arm of the couch.

"yeah--" you gasp, widening your legs, and simon grunts, bobbing his head as he buries his face between your tits.

"y'r so fuckin' pretty, baby," simon mutters, and if you were paying attention, you would see the grip that simon has on the back of the couch, how he's nearly pulling the threads with how hard he's whiteknuckling the fabric. "should know better than t'tease me with this--"

"fuck--simon! i'm so close--please!"

"ach--fuck, y'r gonna cum, aren't ya? shit---"

the kiss is hot. simon fits his cock right against your clit, and with one smooth grind of his hips, you're soaking your panties to ruin. your legs are jelly, shaking, and you cry into his mouth as you try and keep yourself from spiraling too far from the earth. it's so easy with him, so nice. your entire world feels fuzzy and warm when it's with him, and you can't help the soft gasps and the drunken giggles that leave you as he stills between your legs.

"can't be lookin' so pretty when i come home, baby," simon murmurs against your lips, and you smile, opening your eyes, reaching up and smoothing both your hands against his face. your fingertips naturally trace the lines of his scars, and he scrunches his nose as he sits up a little.

"yeah...at this point, i should keep a tally on how many of your pants you ruin, shouldn't i?"

at that, he reaches down, adjusting himself, and the scrunch of his face again tells you he's really made a mess this time.

"ha ha. very funny, luv."

when you kiss him again, he's a little surprised to find your hands slipping low, reaching for his belt. but maybe it's only fair.

if you clean him up good enough, maybe you can salvage this pair, no?

[ilydeku]

teacher izuku has a girlfriend??

Regardless of the joy and spur he expelled towards the students, Izuku knew how to maintain the steady hand of keeping the class under set composure. Nothing but the intent to teach and the will to learn, an equitable relationship between the two—and it was no question. Being the most loved and favored teacher had its perks, and grandiose respect was one of them.

But no matter how mature a student has grown, having fun will always reign somewhere along their focal point. Even if that fun means encouraging their teacher in his love life.

"...-because a good relationship between your teammates makes for optimal communication, conduct, and cooperation," explained Izuku, pointing from one spot on the board to another, well immersed in his lesson. "Now, considering quirk-"

"Speaking of relationships, are you in a relationship, sir?" A student, a frivolous girl, teasingly pipes in sudden interest. Plenty of students amongst the grade claimed a crush on Deku-sensei. Of course they did: he's sweet, very tentative and understanding to all his students individually, and takes his time to really help and engrave the knowledge he possessed for them to become the best future heroes they could be. That, and mostly his physical charms. So wouldn't it be in his best interest to have a girlfriend?

Little did Izuku know that this inquiry marked the beginning of his first uncontrollable havoc.

For a moment, he hesitated, pausing midway on the convoluted diagrams drawn on the whiteboard. A strange question, but he thought nothing much of it. He turned around and crossed his arms, lazily pointing the expo marker to the girl.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Unrelevant, didn't see a hand raised-"

"Aw, but sir!" She draws out, slumping back in her seat. "Are you?"

Some students began to look at each other and exchange a few grins until the room began to slowly increase in volume and erupt into unintelligible chatter.

"Ahem."

The room fell into silence accordingly, but he could clearly read the expression on everyone's faces. The class was still waiting for his answer, the way they stared and leaned over their desks in anticipation. Izuku sighs and turns back to the board.

"...no, I'm not in a relationship. Moving on, the information I've drawn-"

"Really?" The girl cuts in matter of factly with a tilt of her head. "But aren't you and y/n talking??"

A chorus of engrossed 'oohs' echoed across the room and a very subtle, but defined shade of pink dusted his cheeks at the mention of you. He turned around again and attempted to regain composure of the class.

"Everyone settle down-"

"Y/n L/n? Isn't that (hero name)?? I think she's in the top 20's now."

"Yeah! I've seen her drop by the school a couple times during lunch!"

"Now that I think about it, Deku-sensei does have her come in as a guest speaker a lot..."

It was just one after another, the addition of suspicions and theories now bringing the truth to the surface. Izuku swallowed.

A loose black band around Izuku's wrist caught another student's eye and they stood up and pointed in excitement. "Look!! Deku-sensei has hair ties on his wrist!! Hair ties!!"

"Kids, please...-"

"Wow..I've never seen your class this rowdy before, Izuku!!" That voice. His head snapped toward you in surprised, totally flustered about the situation. The entire class went dead silent and turned to you, standing at the entrance of the classroom. You wave at his kids with a smile and stroll over to Izuku's desk, dropping off a bag of some sort. He watches you endearingly.

"You forgot your lunch at home, silly."

"O-Oh did I? Haha, sorry y/n. Thank you. You're on break right now, right?"

The students watched you both like a show, taking in the interaction, the body language, the words. There's no doubt you two were a thing right? Deku-sensei and (hero name)!!

And just then, you confirmed it with simple kiss on his cheek.

"Bye, Izuku! Be nice to the kids, hm?"

"You know I always am!!"

As soon as the classroom door clicked, the class burst into awe.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US???"

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

I'll Send an SOS to Your Heart

-------

"Ok, I'm imagining things."

Steve is laying on his bed watching his lights flicker.

He plugged in one of those space projectors that's supposed to make your ceiling look like the night sky.

It's not weird that they're flickering, the light was a dollar at Melvads he wasn't expecting it to work long.

The weird part is that the stars keep making a heart shape.

He sees the heart flash a couple of times before he flips over and hides deeper into his pillow.

"No." He groans. "No more upside down shit."

If some upside-down monster was flirting with him he quits.

All the lights in his room surge to maximum brightness.

"Fuck off."

The lights draw a middle finger.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" He jumps out of bed and points at the orbs.

It draws a winky face. (;P)

"Who are you?"

His blood runs cold. An upside down monster can't flirt with him. They don't know English. He has an idea but it can't be true.

They left him there. He's dead.

...isn't he?

'SOS' the lights read.

"Fuck." Tears spring to his eyes. "Eddie?"

'Hiya'

-----

He spends a while talking to Eddie.

It's tough.

It takes a while to write everything out and Steve is still trying not to hyperventilate or cry or pass out so it's taking a lot of energy to keep up the conversation.

'Sleep?'

"No."

'?'

"Nothing I'm just...not tired."

'Liar'

"WHAT! I'm not I just-"

'-_-'

"Fine."

':)'

"I'm scared."

'Me?'

"No, I'm scared this is a dream. That I fell asleep hours ago and I made you out of my guilty conscious. I just don't want to lose you...again."

'Back'

"Back?"

'Bring back'

"Bring...you back?"

'YES'

"You think we can bring you back?"

'Plan'

"Yes! I'll call everyone we can figure it out. Oh! We have El to help us this time! You're gonna love her Eds she's just like the kids you look out for and she's magic! I'll call them right-"

'NO'

"No?"

'tom- sleep now'

"I think this is a little more important than-"

'Sleep <3'

Steve looks over at the clock, 4 am.

Shit.

"Ok. I'm going to sleep. Will you...will you be here in the morning?"

'W STEVIE'

"Ok. Goodnight Eddie."

'GN <3'

----

The plan goes off without a hitch.

It takes them about two weeks to formulate and execute the plan.

Steve spends his days and nights talking to Eddie, keeping him updated. Keeping him in his life.

He speed runs a crisis or two when he realizes he wants to spend the remainder of his days speaking to Eddie.

He can't wait until he's here with him.

Alive.

-----

So it's more complicated than he thought.

Maybe there's a hoard or bats blocking them from Eddie.

Maybe Steve throws himself in front of the kids and fights off the creatures long enough for them to find Eddie and get him back home.

Maybe Steve bleeds a little too much and collapsed as soon as they reach the other side.

----

He wakes in the hospital to nine pairs of eyes staring at him.

They're all arguing with each other. Their voices low as if they're trying not to wake them.

He wants to talk he wants to reach out.

Eddie is standing by the door in a baseball cap and sunglasses as if he was trying to be inconspicuous.

As if Eddie could ever hide from Steve. Steve would find him anywhere he is.

God, he's here! He's in the room! All this time apart and he's so close!

"Mphahhpsh" he can't form words but it doesn't matter.

Everyone stops and Eddie's eyes meet his. His eyes look wet and he looks skinny and exhausted.

He's never looked more beautiful.

Eddie's eyes turn down into a determined glare. He pushes past everyone until he's inches away from Steve.

He takes a deep breath and then leans down and kisses him.

Flat on the mouth. In front of everyone.

The shocked noises are what pulls them apart.

"I'm so happy to see you, I really like you," Steve says.

"That's my line." Eddie smiles and kisses him again.

"Don't ever try to save me again I can't ever see you in a hospital again," Eddie presses their noses together.

"That's my line."

Eddie chuckles and pushes his nose into Steve's cheek. "Dork."

"Yes, yes, you're both terrible. Now what the fuck is happening."

They break apart to see the crews shocked faces. Mike's face is pale and Dustin is an interesting shade of red.

Robin is staring at him a little proud.

He sends a wink her way and pulls Eddie in closer.

They'll figure it all out later. They have time.

----

This started with once sentence in my brain and grew into three different plot points I put together in a rush. :P

Please comment I love to read em!

[gor3-hound]

lipstick

ada wong x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, cheating, oral(f!recieving), fingering

a/n: just a short drabble couldn't get ada out of my mind so here lmaooo.. not great tbh it's just word vomit!! but hope you like it regardless :)

Ada isn't sure how she got here - her face buried deep between Leon's girlfriend's thighs. She had only come to the Gala for the purpose of gathering information, and she hardly expected to see Leon there.

He's checking her out as soon as his eyes find her. She's not surprised in the slightest. Her and Leon have always been a little complicated, to say the least. He flirts with her a little, and she pretends not to notice.

Her nonchalant demeanour crumbles when you approach, sweet as anything. Her eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as you hook an arm around Leon's and give him these bright doe eyes, peering up at him through those fake lashes of yours.

He doesn't deserve you. Not when he'd been ogling Ada all night. You're not even jealous to see them talking. No, you're instantly complimenting Ada on her outfit, gushing over meeting one of Leon's ‘friends’.

Yeah, you definitely deserve better than him. What an asshole. She can't believe he'd even entertain the thought of hooking up with her when he had you on his arm. Not that she'd agree, but with you? That was a different story.

She waits until she can get you alone. Even watches closely to make sure Leon is fully out of sight and out of mind before she's dragging you off to one of the secluded rooms in this oversized mansion.

She tells you what happens, comforts you as you come to terms with the news, and somehow… ends up pushing you back against the table and eating you out like she'd been starving. You make the prettiest sounds, your perfectly manicured nails carving marks into the wood as you dig your fingers into the surface, chipping your nail polish.

She shifts back to admire her handiwork for a moment. Your pretty thighs are marked up with her lipstick, and she can't help but smirk at the sight. It's not long before her head dips down again, black hair cascading around her as she dives back into your pussy.

Her tongue flicks against your clit eagerly, teasing the swollen bud. You can't help but moan, your hips bucking up into her face. She draws back slightly with a chuckle, pushing your hips back down onto the table.

“Don't be so impatient, baby.” She tuts, kissing her way up your thigh again. “I'll give you what you need.”

She holds you down on the table now, her tongue dipping between your wet folds. She laps up your juices, tongue pushing in and out of your tight hole before she slides it up, flicking the wet muscle against your clit once more.

She flattens her tongue against it before she wraps her lips around the sensitive bud and sucks it into her mouth. You feel her hand sliding up your thigh, two fingers teasingly circling your dripping hole before pushing in. She curls them once they're sheathed inside, finding your sweet spot with ease. You feel her grin against your pussy as you whimper and arch your back, knowing she's got you.

She continues to massage your spongy walls with the tips of her fingers, thrusting them in and out as she suckles greedily on your clit. The more you moan, the more you encourage her. It's not long before you're mewling her name, rocking your hips between her face and her fingers.

“O-oh… Ada! I'm gonna… fuck-” You manage to whine, back arching as you cum all over her face. She keeps going until you're twitching with oversensitivity, pulling her fingers out of you and sucking them clean.

“There we go. Forget about that loser.” She says with a grin, wiping your juices off of her chin with the back of her hand. She looks down at the pinkish red marks, letting out a sigh of mock-exasperation. 

“Baby. You messed up my lipstick.”

[hayakawalove]

Let Me Eat It

Summary: Suguru eats you out.

A/N: Hey! I haven't posted anything in awhile. I feel like I'm in a rut. This isn't the most descriptive, but I wanted to write it. Thoughts? I would love to know what your thoughts are!

CW: Smut, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, He doesn't touch himself, Gender Neutral Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 1,005

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

Suguru is patient. He knows this, his friends know this, everyone knows this. He has no problem waiting for the result he wants. He thinks it pays off better that way. In most areas of his life, his patience is a good thing. It helped in school, it helps in work, and in his personal life. You would disagree though. 

You love how patient he is, 99% of the time. However, you can’t stand it in bed. He knows you feel this way. Suguru always draws sex out, just because he likes seeing the pleasure on your face. He likes the way your brows pitch up and your moans increase. This is true even more so when he’s eating you out. 

Suguru loves to watch you fall apart on his tongue. 

Which is what you were currently doing. 

You’re laying on your back, arms reaching down to grasp at Suguru. He’s got your legs pushed down on either side, exposing your wet pussy to him. He’s never seen a sight so beautiful before. You’re whining above him, but he’s not paying much attention to you. 

Suguru’s tongue sticks out as he drags it against you, rubbing it on your clit. His pace is one that leaves you breathless. You pull him against you in response, needing him closer. You could cum any second now. Suguru wraps his lips around your clit, sucking it. His mind swims with your moans, with the feeling of you beneath him. 

“S-Suguru!” You moan, hips shaking as you get closer. 

Suguru hums against you, his eyes falling closed as he detaches his mouth from your pussy. It’s dripping wet, and swollen with need. He’s having a hard time deciding what to do next. Everything sounds good. 

He drags his tongue down and sticks it into your pussy, smiling at the way you clench around him. The salty taste of you is covering his face, nothing has ever tasted so good. Suguru’s cock is so hard, it feels like brick. If he was a lesser man, he may reach down with a hand to grasp at himself to relieve some of the build up. But he isn’t. Instead, he’ll focus on you until you cum, he’ll keep going until he’s sure you’ve had enough. Suguru won’t even think about how wet his cock is, how hard it is. 

You’re groaning, the pleasure of his mouth almost too much. You look down at him and watch as he eats you out. His eyes are low but his movements are measured. You never watch him as he eats you out, you remember why once you look at him. It makes you that much closer. 

Suguru swipes his tongue against your clit, before sucking it once more. You’re smooth against him, making him want to eat you out even more. Suguru’s a patient man, and he’s enjoying that very much right now. 

“You’re gonna make me, Suguru,” you moan, feeling it build up in your pussy. 

If he had the chance, Suguru would do this for hours. He would, if you’d allow out. Something told him you wouldn’t though, so he’ll settle for this instead. His lips press against your pussy, while his tongue brings you closer. 

He really wants to taste your cum. 

He wants it all over his face and in his mouth, it’s something that never gets old. 

Suguru doesn’t let up, focusing on your sensitive clit. He finds it sweet how badly you need him. He can take care of you. He knows exactly how to. Even if you don’t. 

He pulls back for a moment to look back down at your pussy. It looks best right before you cum, swollen and dripping. It always looks good, but if Suguru had his way it would always look like this. 

Even though he was only taking a momentary pause, the sight makes him want to keep going. He has a hard time keeping his mouth off you. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” 

“Yes, yes!” 

You need it. Suguru thinks he’ll give it to you, finally. He wraps his tongue around your clit again and sucks, paying attention to how you get louder. You hold onto his shoulders, not giving him the option to pull away. Suguru makes you cum easily and effortlessly. He smiles as you do so on his mouth, and he keeps going until he knows you’ve had your fill. 

As he pulls away he looks down, watching your cum drip from your hole. He knows you get self conscious if he stares too much, but he can’t help it. 

His eyes flick back up to you, your figure relaxing against the bedding. Suguru likes this part almost just as much as making you cum. 

You reach a hand out, eyes droopy as you silently request him to be close. His chest tightens at the sight. So cute. He crawls up to you, laying down beside you where you nuzzle against him. His arm wraps around you, forcing you against him more. 

“You’re mean, Suguru.” He hears you speak against him. 

“I am? Why’s that?” He asks. 

He doesn’t even mention how he wasn’t mean seconds ago when you were cumming on his mouth. 

“You always make me feel so good,”

“And that’s a bad thing?” 

“It makes me want to cum immediately! But you always want it to last.” 

Suguru thinks about how to respond. You were right. He didn’t even think about how that might make you feel. You still got to cum though, so he didn’t see a problem. 

Suguru hums, his arm keeping you against him. You were laying on him more than anything. He was fine with it. He would be your bed for you. 

“You look so good, I just wanted to watch you for a little longer.” He reasons. 

You murmur something against him which he can’t understand. Suguru doesn’t reply, instead opting to be quiet as your eyes close. 

He’s a patient man, even if you aren’t grateful for it. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @kimi01985, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @mikisspeak, @dinolvrrr, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothiccwhore666, @bunviixo, @slutshamethesquirrels

If you want to be added to my taglist let me know, just specify what you want to be added to

[kairiscorner]

question of the day: who would fall the hardest if they ever fell in love?

well... i've got 4 candidates in mind, and i think... (1/4)

miles g. morales — guilty of falling hard for you.

summary: miles morales always struck you as an apathetic guy, one who wouldn't particularly take relationships too seriously; until you both fell for each other, you realized... he did indeed fall for you, but he fell hard, way, way too hard for you. pairing: miles 42 x gn!reader genre: fluff !!

miles g. morales was, to you, such a cold, apathetic guy who always looked calm and composed in everything he did. he seemed like a guy that, you believed, wouldn't care too much if he was in a relationship–that he would put himself before his significant other; though you didn't have any evidence to back it up, save for how distant he seemed to you at first. but oh, were you wrong.

miles g. morales wasn't really all that insensitive as you thought when you got to know him, in fact–he was more sensitive to your thoughts, needs, and wants more than any other boy had ever been for you. it took a while, but the longer you spent around him, the more obvious was the fact that he truly, truly cared about you, from the bottom of his heart.

miles g. morales was the boy who'd stay after class, waiting for your class to finish so he could meet up with you and just be around you. ask him to explain why he's always risking his ass getting scolded for loitering outside your classroom, he can't give you one straight answer. "we had free time", "i had no where else to go", "i... left a pencil in that classroom. yeah."

miles g. morales would never admit to your face that he does indeed stare at you sometimes when you're not looking. whenever he sits close to you in class, be it behind, next to, or diagonally across to you–he always finds every angle of you to be a perfect angle to stare at and admire. don't be mad that he's looking, though, he can't help himself; you're way too mesmerizing for him to handle.

miles g. morales whose sketchpad gradually became a book full of... you in it. it started off as simple, small doodles of you; little cartoony you's that he found adorable and kept drawing when he wasn't focusing on anything else. but as time went by, he found himself focusing on you and your features more and more, almost as if he couldn't rip his gaze away from you.

miles g. morales had also noticed that whenever you speak, he hangs on to every word you say. he thought it would've creeped you out at first, how he can remember all the little details you'd tell him when you're telling him about something that happened in your day or how he remembers all the names of your pets, friends, favorite restaurants, favorite bands and artists–he hangs on to every word you utter, and he can't help it; your voice is just too tantalizingly sweet and attractive that he can't not listen to every word you speak.

miles g. morales was the boy who would use his intimidating appearance to his advantage and defend you against assholes who wouldn't take 'no' from you for an answer. he'd stare them down and glare at them, remind them for you that you said 'no', and if they didn't get the message the first time... they'll have to get through him to get to you. "i'm not gonna back down just because they're bigger than me, because i don't fear them. i don't fear them because, for all their brawn, they sure don't have any brains. and whatever happens after, i'll make sure you don't get in trouble; i'll shoulder the fault. i'd do this for you, every time."

miles g. morales would never wish to get in trouble or have beef with anyone else, but if it was you that others were bothering, then he'd willingly do everything he can to keep you safe and unbothered. he doesn't care what happens to him, so long as you stay safe, so long as it isn't your face being beaten in. you insist he shouldn't do these things for you, but... he can't help it. to picture you in danger makes his heart feel heavy; to get rid of that heaviness, he does these things for you, because he... he loves you.

miles g. morales doesn't dream at night, or at least didn't dream for a long while–or maybe he did and just forgets what he dreamt of the previous night–but when you two became much closer friends, he began to see glimpses and images of you in his dreams. in his wildest dreams, he was able to tell you in all kinds of scenarios that he felt weird around you–a good kind of weird. he'd feel a kind of warmth in his chest, accompanied by the pitter-pattering of his heart when your eyes lock with his, and he feels this urge in the corners of his lips to smile widely when you smile up at him. and, he'd never tell you this, but... in those dreams, he'd tell you how he really feels, and you'd teach him how to handle those feelings by placing your hands on either sides of his cheeks and pulling him close to your face–your nose feeling so soft against his own when your noses brush together–and with the feeling of your hot breath against his own lips... he wakes up.

miles g. morales wakes up to the reality that you probably only see him as a very good friend, a friend you used to think wouldn't care about those who love him but was proven very, very wrong. the friendship bracelet you made for him sits there by his nightstand, next to a cutely frame photo of the two of you at your birthday party. you designed that photo frame for him, and despite how a guy like him probably wouldn't care for cute things... he finds comfort and solace in a bit of cuteness in his life; he just wishes he could express that to you, you, who is cuteness personified. he wears that friendship bracelet every day–and wears it proudly. he doesn't hide it under his sleeve nor tuck it away when you're not looking; he's always got it on and shows it off by just having it on him. he loves having mementos of you on him, it gives him a feeling he hasn't had in a long time... and he hopes that, by some miracle, you'd feel that feeling for him, too.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless @euphovlq @anikaluv @conitagray @q2ie @zalayni

[sandflakedraws]

Hi! I have been a huge fan of your art for a long while now; I hope this isn't terribly, horribly rude but do you know when/if commissions will be open again?

It's totally fine if the answer is "not for a long time/ever", I'm just curious because I would love to commission you one day.

Have a lovely day or night, whichever! I will continue to enjoy your art like a delicious soup :)

Don't worry, I don't think this is a rude question! Hopefully the response isn't more than u bargained for.

Alas though, the truest answer is also the vaguest: I'm not??? Sure??

Rather, I'd like to open them again, but I need to be thoughtful about how and when I do it.

recently, the internet landscape has helped shed some light on the subject of ADHD, how it affects people, what forms it can take, and i have had some revelations regarding my relationship to it.

namely that i very . very likely,,, have it.

not sure why it never occurred to me despite having siblings and cousins with it, but either way.

What matters here is that sometimes, my brain constructs a wall of agony around doing a commission. Seemingly at random, it'll hit me with a constant button press of "not gonna! wrong! stop!" I never understood why. I had previously thought that I'd just been having some sort of temporary funk, and that one day I'd wake up and it would just. not be there. Y'know, like my executives would function.

So... it has been common for some very patient, sweet, compassionate commissioners to have waited months, even years before they received what they'd rightfully paid for.

... I hate that I'm capable of that. I don't want to be That Guy.

After having recontextualized the problem from 'temporary haze' to 'state of being' it's been easier to recognize what I need to do.

If I open commissions again, I need to figure out a way to keep ADHD brain from forming walls around the task. One thing I've decided for certain is that I've gotta switch to a multi-payment method. Ergo, the commissioner would pay a little up front, and the rest when I finish. Other than that though, I've been drawing a blank.

Until I get that settled, my commission status will remain in limbo.

[ask-funnybunnydoll]

Hi!

I think I have to move on.

You may have noticed that all of a sudden my posts have become less and less frequent. That's not on purpose I simply don't have the motivation to keep this ask blog going. I made this blog at the peak of my TADC hyperfixation because I knew it would give me the boost to work. At the start I made like, what? 2 a day, wowzas! Then it became like every other day posts. It's not that I don't enjoy the blog, the ship, the asks. Hell, the asks were the best part of this, I love just seeing what you guys come up with for these three and I get to do the even more fun part of drawing the answer.

But I still have no motivation to keep this going. And I have fixated on something else if you follow my main.

So, thank you for being here and still liking my posts even if I hadn't posted often. This was the most fun I've had and being my first ask blog I ever created just makes it more important to me.

I probably won't ever revive this blog but I'll keep it open for you. And if you want to see what the story I originally planned out was gonna be then check below the cut! Or if you wanna stay curious and theorize then just scroll by. Thank you again, hope ya have a great day and year. I hope my shit was at least okay to you.

I'm not gonna lie. Most of the stuff was just created along the way of drawing. I was like, huh this would be cool let's add that in. And ofc I didn't get to any juicy lore in this but it would've been rushed because I didn't plan beforehand... which you probably could tell xd

For Pomni, here's the plot twist: she's dead and her conscience was updated into the game to keep her somewhat alive. She worked in the place that created the game, she even took part in putting people in there. The entire game was just an expirement to test if immortality was possible, but of course.. everyone goes insane in there so they have to keep on and keep on trying with more and more people to get anywhere. They wait until someone goes to edge of absolute insanity and that's when they take them out of the game, their bodies are still kept alive and they go back to normal. They forget everything that happened while in the game. For Pomni she died just after her conscience was converted to the game, for others they were forced to go while alive. Who killed Pomni? Well, her boss, the head of the experimentation. Why? Idk 😭

For Jax, I gave him a dark story. He was isolated in his home and kept away from the outside world, which is why he lacks empathy, because he simply doesn't know how to feel that way when he never really had knowledge of emotions outside or even inside his home. His father was emotionally and physically ab4sive so.. that didn't help. He latched onto his mother the most but they never saw eachother often. That's all I had for him in mind.

For Ragatha, she lived in the country on her own land with her husband. Yup! She had a husband and a daughter too. Husband was a total jerk and she couldn't leave because she didn't want their kid to experience separated parents. She's a doll in the game because it resembles the doll she made for her daughter.

I also had some plot that I made up in my mind. Like.... Pomni at the end would be the last one alone in the digital circus. That being since she's dead she would just be yknow. Dead if she left the game. Jax and Ragatha leave but only because Pomni forces them. Again don't know how, I probably would have made it up while I went along with the story. So, Pomni is just there alone, with Caine. And she lives like that for eternity. She doesn't go insane anymore and it isn't as lonely as it used to feel like. It would feel like home kind of. But she would be there, longing for her partners forever unless she decides one day to just. Yknow, die..

Also since Jax and Ragatha would forget everything after they leave the game, they just don't remember they were in a relationship and would live their lives like before. Sad and lonely.

Goodness, I forget I make the most sad stories ever sometimes 😭

[solstrix]

Art Journey Log: What is Artmaxxing... and Why Does it Bother Me? (02/12/2024)

There's a specific type of art content creation I've noticed, especially on Youtube, that I've been wanting to talk about for a while. I'll admit though, even now I struggle with exactly what I want to say, and how... But I really want to try, it feels important that I get out what I've been thinking.

So this thing I've noticed is something I've been calling "artmaxxing", which I define as content centered on attempting to and explaining how one can get as "good" at art as fast as possible. Here's what makes this tricky: there is nothing actually WRONG with that type of content. Sometimes, often even, it can in fact be a very helpful form of video, and suggestions from these videos can, in fact, help you improve on an objective level. But...

(I will not be pointing at any examples, as I don't really want to draw negative attention towards these creators. Just know that they are very common on Youtube's art space, and you wouldn't have to look far to find one.)

(These contentmakers also tend to be the type of creator to make "critiquing/roasting your art" videos, which I also have severe issues with, but is not the subject of this current blog post. Perhaps another time...)

But here is where my issues start. The idea that the pursuit of improvement is not only necessary, but MANDATORY, I find, can be extremely harmful to the art mindset. "Soli, that seems, like, really counterintuitive," I hear you say. And you are correct! But here's the thing: unless your artistic goals begin and end with growth for growth's sake, you will end up standing in your way. And I'm gonna dare say that, for most people, the point of making art isn't inherently just to get better at it.

Most artists start making art for a purpose. Whether it's to make comics and tell stories, make characters, to externalise the visions you are plagued with, for fashion design, or just because you liked a piece of media so much that it inspired you to create something new based on it... There are endless reasons, and they are rarely Just For Arts's Sake, or Just For Growth's Sake. So the problem is when an artist holds themselves back, keeps themselves from creating the things they actually want to make, because they see themselves as not good enough yet. They want to wait until they are better, until they've improved,

The problem is that "better" is a constantly moving goalpost, and one which, simultaneously, you may never actually get closer to. Your own improvement is not always obvious, and there is always something more to learn.

Do the thing now. Do the art you actually want to make now. Pursue what inspires you, what makes you want to create. Improvement will follow, because every time you draw, you get better. If you're struggling on a part of a drawing, find reference, look for advice as to how to improve that one part, and remain specific. Remember that you can always come back to the same work, the same themes, iterate and improve on them, your piece doesn't have to be one and done. Do not let yourself get too general, or you will stand in your own way. Ignore the voices telling you you aren't good enough yet, that you NEED to work to improve.

Don't stand in your way, and don't listen to anyone telling you want you Should or Need to be learning and doing to improve.

You are good enough right now to start being the artist you want to be.

[chronicowboy]

Song 88 for the playlist character thing!

hi! sorry this took so long but you chose possibly my favourite buddie song of all time and i just had to write a little ficlet

the door swings open (and you're standing there)

As he grabs Eddie's duffel bag from the backseat, Buck thinks of Hachikō the dog that waited for his owner to arrive at the station after work every day. How he waited long after his owner had died. Until he too eventually died at that very same station. It's far too easy to imagine himself sat just outside those airport doors, watching, waiting, withering.

Buck wouldn't get treats and food from affectionate passersby. Buck would get pitying looks from any commuter that spared him a glance.

Still, when Eddie's hand brushes his as he takes his bag, Buck thinks his tail would be wagging, if he had one. Wants to paw at Eddie for more. Wants to press his face into Eddie's neck. Wants to be a bad dog and sink his teeth in there too. Leave a mark. Remember me. Take this with you. Hate me if you have to, just take me with you.

"Got everything?" he asks instead, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Hopefully," Eddie sighs and slips the strap over his shoulder. His eyes are skittish like a doe in a field deciding which way to run. He's fiddling with the zipper on his bag, and it takes Buck back to a too-bright kitchen, Eddie's thumbs rubbing into his palms.

This is panic. This is Eddie Diaz panicking.

"Tell Chris I say hi," Buck says. An out. Always, always an out. And then, he'd left, and Buck had had to hide behind Tommy instead. But eventually he'd left too, and Buck. Well, Buck had ruined everything. This, however, works exactly as he'd planned. Soothes Eddie's hackles right down and draws out that shaky little smile of his. "Tell him—" The words choke themselves off in Buck's throat. "Tell him I love him." And his voice comes out wrong. Wobbly and weak when this should be the easiest thing in the world to say. "Tell him I miss him, and I love him more than he'll ever know. Tell him like that."

Eddie's face cracks open again, smile shattering, the resigned eyes of a doe caught in a trap.

"Buck," he croaks. Swallows, stands to attention, sets a hand on Buck's shoulder. His thumb burns a hole into Buck's collarbone. "You're talking like you're never gonna see us again." Buck shrugs, regrets it almost immediately, waits for Eddie's hand to slip from his shoulder. It doesn't. Anchored there, sure and unyielding. "I'm gonna be back in a few weeks."

"To get your stuff, Eddie," Buck scoffs.

"Yeah." Amusement blooms across Eddie's face, unfurls in his eyes like the first bud of spring. He tilts his head to catch Buck's gaze, smiles wider. "And I'll be packing you into one of the boxes, so you can help me put all my furniture back together again."

Buck thinks it'd be infinitely easier, if he was a dog, to slip into Eddie's moving van unnoticed. Launch himself into Eddie's arms when the doors opened after eight hundred miles. Lick his face and beg for forgiveness rather than permission.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Eddie says, and it's full of that Diaz conviction that makes Buck feel like he's been overtaken by a wave. He wants to drown in it.

"I know." Buck shrugs again. Shrugs a little more than last time. Eddie's hand falls from his shoulder, and Buck hopes that was the only thing keeping him afloat.

"No, seriously." Eddie huffs at Buck, at himself maybe. He runs a hand through his hair, and those two perfectly messy strands fall right back over his forehead. Buck has thought on more that one occasion about reaching up to brush them away, but this is something that doesn't need fixing. "I'm going to be alone over there, Buck. Especially if Chris isn't ready for me to be there. And you..." Eddie doesn't choke on his words. He laughs. A sweet, tinkering sound. It reminds Buck of the windchimes in Eddie's backyard. "You have always been right there by my side. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do when you're not there anymore."

"You'll figure it out." Buck shrugs again. He glances up from the pavement just in time to catch the defeated collapse of Eddie's shoulders, his face.

"Buck..." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know if I want to figure it out."

And there are a thousand things Buck could say. A thousand unspoken words Buck has hoarded since he flipped over that stupid fucking tablet. A thousand truths he could spill in parking structure 3 at LAX during his seven-dollar half hour.

There are things he could say that Hachikō never got to.

Instead, Buck lets them all clump and clot around his heart like some cancerous mass to be removed when it's already too late.

"You should get going," he says. "Don't want to miss your flight."

Eddie looks at him for a beat too long. Eyes unnerving. Buck feels like peeling paint on a wall watching a can of paint stripper get set down on the sheet-blanketed floor. Feels like a nerve exposed to the brisk chill of winter air, every sensation just too much. So, when Eddie wraps his arms around Buck's middle, he feels it like a thicket of thorns latching onto him. It's instinct that has him catching Eddie. And it's a sword that lances straight through his chest when Eddie's grip tightens around him, hands fisting in the fabric of Buck's shirt, nose replacing his thumb on Buck's neck. Every point of contact like a weeping wound. Buck will carry each of them until he's empty.

When Eddie pulls away, it's Christopher he thinks of that allows Buck to let him slip away.

"Fly safe," he rasps.

"I'll make sure to tell the pilot there's precious cargo onboard," Eddie teases with an eyeroll. It's so close. So almost normal.

"You do that." And it's not even close. Nowhere near normal. He can't even give Eddie this. Ruins their goodbye once more.

"See you soon, Buck."

He could spare himself the pain. Could walk away right now. He was always good at that. The walking away, not the sparing himself pain. But, well, Buck couldn't not watch Eddie leave anymore than Orpheus couldn't not turn around to share in the delight of sunlight with his Eurydice. And when Eddie turns to look at him one last time, offers him a half-smile and a half-wave, before getting swallowed up by the crowd, Buck thinks it's his fault for loving him so much.

Except that's not true, is it? Orpheus travelled all the way underworld, charmed the ferryman and Cerberus and Hades himself with his music. The perfect melody of love and grief. Buck drove Eddie to the airport and just... Let him walk away.

Eddie would make a better Orpheus, he thinks. Eddie who found joy and flung the door open wide to Buck, so ready to share it with him. Eddie would make the perfect Orpheus. If only he loved Buck the way Orpheus loved Eurydice, the way Buck loves Eddie.

That's the simple truth of it. Buck loves Eddie. He'd do anything for him. And if that means crossing the Styx, losing him for good, Buck thinks it'll be worth it as long as Eddie goes knowing he's loved so completely that it becomes natural.

Buck goes through the glass doors. He slips through the crowd. Elbows his way towards the security checkpoint.

When he sees Eddie, he thinks he'd turn around for his Eurydice not to share in the light but because she is the light. Buck would gladly go blind.

Buck manages to catch him before he reaches the line for security, and Eddie turns to him with a delightfully bemused frown.

"Buck, what—"

"I'm sorry." Buck shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's wrist. "I'm sorry. I've never been good at goodbyes, but I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to say goodbye to you, Eddie."

"It's not goodbye, Buck." Eddie frowns, grabs Buck's wrist right back. "I said see you soon, and I meant it."

"I know. I know you meant it." Buck smiles. Some crumpled copy of a smile at least. "I just hope you still mean it after this." Eddie's face twists into something both confused and offended like the thought of not seeing Buck again is just so utterly unthinkable.

"What—"

"I'm in love with you, Eddie." Buck doesn't wait for a reaction. Can't. "I only just figured it out, can you believe it? Six years of you at my side, and I only realise when you're slipping right through my fingers." Buck laughs, a noise like nails on a chalkboard. "I'm not expecting anything of you. I just... I just needed to tell you before you left or otherwise I'd regret it for the rest of my life."

"Buck, I—"

"You don't have to say anything, Eddie." Buck shakes his head, still smiling. "Just promise me something?"

"Anything, but, Buck—"

"Just promise me, Eddie." He tightens his grip on Eddie's wrist, nails digging in just a little. Well, a bad dog after all. "Be honest with Chris. Tell him the whole truth. Don't go hiding things you think he can't handle it. Chance is he knows it already, he just doesn't have a name for it. And that makes it so much worse, Eddie. You grow up feeling it, but you're never allowed to look at it. And it grows and grows and grows. So, just. Tell him everything. No matter how heavy. Tell him, and the two of you will carry it together instead of alone. Promise me that, Eddie. Don't colour it with your guilt. The plain honest truth, okay?"

"Okay." Eddie nods blankly. Buck squeezes Eddie's wrist and drops it. Eddie grasps it against his chest like he's been burnt.

Buck walks away. He looks back just once.

~~~~

Eddie has been in Texas for almost a whole month. And since a perfunctory Arrived safe after his flight, they haven't talked once. So, Buck throws himself into work. Embraces the flames of a five-alarm fire like an old friend. Jumps off of thing just to feel the blessed weight of free-fall before the rope snaps taut. Covers every shift he can find until Bobby forces him to take ninety-six whole hours off.

He runs around downtown LA until his bad leg starts to scream in pain. He goes to the gym with music blasting in his headphones, so he can't hear the ugly thoughts curdling in his brain, lift weights until the shoulder he'd dislocated starts to scream too. Watches reality TV until his brain feels like it's melting right out of his ears. Eases his way into fitful sleep with shots of tequila chased by the old beers in the back of Eddie's fridge.

His first shift back is stifling. The eyes on him making him feel like a rabid dog backed into a corner. Everyone terrified of what he'll do next. So, he whispers quiet to himself in the bathroom and sighs in relief when the alarm blares.

They don't get back to the station until 3am, and Chimney is too tired to go on a manhunt for whoever jinxed them, so Buck stows himself away in the loft whilst everyone else shuffles into the bunks. He checks his phone out of habit, grinning at the picture of Maddie's sonogram she'd sent after her appointment, wonders if Chim is trying to sniffle quietly in the bunks—almost definitely.

And then, he sees the voicemail.

He doesn't really think much of it. Tries to tell himself it's probably just his doctor calling about that check-up he should be scheduling or the landlord asking if he's decided on renewing his lease or not yet, ignoring the timestamp in the corner of the little white box, ignoring the stutter of his heart and the tremble running through his body.

01:47

Buck clicks on the notification before his phone can shake right out of his hands. He brings it up to his ear, listens, waits. He takes a deep, rattling breath in perfect synchronicity with the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hey, Buck, I'm sorry I haven't..." A pause. "God, you must have thought..." A huff. One of those laughs that's trying too hard to be a laugh and ends up being something else instead. "I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. Jesus Christ. I'm fucking stupid, Evan Buckley. Did you know that? I, God, I don't know how I didn't see it. I've been looking at you almost every day of my life for six years and somehow I never fucking saw it. You were just...

"You're like breathing, Buck. You-you're a necessity. An instinct. You don't notice it's there until it's gone. And then you spend three and a half weeks panicking in a shitty AirBnB in El Paso because you can't fucking breathe without him. And I—" Eddie isn't breathing. Eddie has always been breath-taking to Buck, stealing the air right out of his lungs. Not for selfish gains but to take care of it when he didn't trust Buck to do it himself. "I love you. I'm in love with you, Buck. Oh, my God. I'm in love with you. I didn't know, Buck. I didn't know. You have to believe me. I didn't know. And now... It's not too late, Buck. Is it too late? Am I too late?"

"No," Buck whispers into the empty air of the station. Can't help himself. Feels the no like a parasite in him. Like a xenomorph bursting right out of his chest. Too big, too big, too big.

"I love you, and I'm two states away, and I didn't know I could love you like this, and I didn't know love could feel like this, Buck. I just want to be where you are. Always. I want to hold your hand. I want to hold you. God, I want to kiss you. Buck. I want to kiss you so badly. But I have to... Chris is here, and he's talking to me, and I'm picking him up from school now. I can't... I can't kiss you. Not yet. I need to fix our family first."

Buck clasps a hand over his mouth and sobs against his palm. He doesn't know what it is he's feeling. Couldn't name it all if he tried. The most comparable sensation he has is how it felt when he woke up after his leg. When the drugs were just strong enough that he was numb in that delicious kind of way. Warm instead of cold. Floaty. Everything dulled, but that little voice in the back of his head telling him something was wrong.

"I'm firing my realtor tomorrow, I don't care. I need to take my house off the market. My parents are driving me crazy. Christopher misses you. I miss you. I love you. I love you." Eddie laughs. And this is a laugh. A real laugh. One of his bubbles of joy that Buck wants to be encased in forever and ever. "I just. God, it's always there, Buck. It's always been right there. Writing grocery lists and running into burning buildings and driving through traffic and I was loving you the whole time. How the hell have you been carrying this around? I feel like it's going to crush me if I don't... But I left. I left. I'm so sorry I left. It's late. You're at work. I shouldn't. I love you, Buck. Okay? So much. Call me back?"

The line doesn't go dead. Eddie sits there breathing down the phone for twelve more seconds, and Buck inhales after each of his exhales like he'll be able to taste Eddie's oxygen from eight hundred miles away because he's greedy. But. But Eddie loves him. Eddie wants to kiss him. Eddie is eight hundred miles away.

Buck pockets his phone and heads for Bobby's office with something frantic buzzing away beneath his skin. He raps on the door gently, clenches his hands into fists and stuff them into his pockets as they shake, shake, shake.

"Come in," Bobby calls, quiet with the late hour. Buck pushes into the room. Too concerned with the way his spine seems to be trying to crawl out of his mouth to think about his face, but whatever expression is there has Bobby setting his pen down with three quick blinks. "Buck. Everything okay?"

"I need to go to Texas," he blurts out. Bobby blinks three more times. Okay, not quite what he'd meant to say. "I know you just gave me four days off, but I-I need to go, Bobby."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Buck smiles, and he's not sure what it looks like, but it makes Bobby melt back into his seat with a smile of his own. "Everything's good, Bobby. I just need to see them."

"Take a week," Bobby says just like that.

"W-wait, really?"

"Why not? Pretty sure you've got more vacation days saved up than everyone else combined." Bobby nods, a final approval. "Hit the bunks, get some sleep, head home when you wake up, forget about any calls."

"Are you, I mean, are you sure?" he asks, doesn't realise he's almost bouncing in place until the corner of Bobby's mouth quirks up just a little more.

"Yeah, Buck, I'm sure." He jerks his head. "Go get 'em."

Buck doesn't need to be told twice.

~~~~

A day later, one miracle down and almost five hundred dollars poorer, Buck is lugging a half-zipped duffel bag out of an extortionately priced Uber. He drops the bag on the doorstep of some stranger's bungalow, raises his fist and hesitates. It's just—

Can it really be this easy? Can Buck just show up out of the blue and expect to be welcomed with those kisses Eddie had been wanting so badly? Can he have this? Can he really have Eddie?

And then, like an answer, the door swings open.

Eddie is standing there bathed in the golden light of the entryway lamp. He's frozen to the spot, paused with one arm in his jacket, the other hanging limp at his side. His jaw slack, but tugged up just a little, so slight only Buck and his PhD in Eddie Diaz would catch it. And his eyes. God, his eyes. Buck almost falls to his knees for missing those brown eyes alone. Now, they're the warmest Buck has ever seen them, wide and full of wonder. Buck did that. Buck filled Eddie's eyes with awe and fondness and so much love he thinks he could drown in it even if he was still in LA and looking at them through a screen.

"Buck," Eddie breathes, smile dawning over his face like the most beautiful sunrise Buck has ever seen.

He doesn't even get to open his mouth before Eddie's arms are around him, and Buck doesn't know why he was mourning Eddie's house when this is so clearly home—the pounding of Eddie's heart against his own. Buck slides his arms around Eddie's waist, slips them under the jacket hanging from his left shoulder, buries his face in Eddie's neck and breathes in as much home as he can fit in his lungs. Eddie does the same, just clings to Buck, inhales, digs his fingers into Buck's back deep enough that he hopes they bruise.

"You're here," Eddie whispers into Buck's skin.

"I got your message," Buck rasps.

Eddie pulls away like it's the last thing he wants to do, barely even pulls away, just enough to look. And, oh, does he look. Takes Buck in from head to toes, lingers on his lips just a moment longer than the rest. Looks at Buck like he's seeing fire for the first time, amazed, enchanted, just the tiniest bit afraid. He's beaming. It's not a smile, not a grin. It's a beam. Buck wants to bottle it.

"Going somewhere?" Buck asks, plucking at the half-on, half-off—half-on, what the hell, Buck's feeling optimistic—jacket. Eddie glances down at it blankly, shrugs right out of it and lets it fall to the floor without taking his eyes off Buck.

He's not sure who cracks first, but their twins grin burst. Eddie almost doubles over with the force of his laughter, catching himself on Buck's shaking shoulders. And Buck doesn't know how long they stand on the doorstep just laughing, but he thinks he could stay there forever. Could get drunk off the sound of Eddie's joy. Because that's what it is really. The jacket falling hadn't been this funny. Nothing was this funny. Because this was just what happened when happiness grew too big to be contained.

Eventually, their laughter fades into huffed little breaths that makes Buck feel like that exposed nerve again when they hit the skin of his neck.

"Hey, Buck," he says, joy glowing in the pink of his cheeks. "I love you."

"Hey, Eddie." Buck smiles, but that isn't really a big enough word for what he's feeling. "I love you."

Eddie kisses him like he's been thinking of nothing else for a month. Eddie kisses him like he's run all the way from El Paso to LA just to kiss him. Eddie kisses him like it's the end of the movie and the music is swelling and the fireworks are exploding. Eddie kisses him like he's kissed him a thousand times before.

Gentle. Chaste, really. Desperately careful. Devastatingly tender. Fond and enamoured and loving. It tastes of joy.

Eddie pulls back only to lean in again. Drops one, two, three, four more kisses to Buck's mouth before dragging his thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes flicker to Buck's, a question, and Buck answers. Leans in and keeps on leaning. Asks Eddie, asks the universe, pleads, demands: fuse us together, let me crawl inside, I'll stay, I'll stay right here. And Eddie doesn't just permit him. Eddie opens up to him, answers with a question of his own: can I be yours, can this be us, can I call you mine?

When Buck pulls away, he finds the eighth wonder of the world. Eddie, kiss-dishevelled, swollen lips, cheeks red, hair mussed, eyes glossed over.

"You're here," Eddie croaks, voice hoarse from just a kiss. Buck's knees go weak. "How long are you here for?"

"Bobby gave me the week," Buck says, breathless from the best kiss of his life.

"Well, that'll have to do, I guess," Eddie teases.

He kisses Buck three more times before dropping to a crouch. All the blood in Buck's head floods South so fast he's dizzy with it. But Eddie stands back up with his jacket, tosses Buck's duffel bag into the entryway and pushes him off the doorstep.

"Come on. We're gonna be late."

"Late for what?" Buck asks, still half-stuck on the image of Eddie basically dropping to his knees in front of him.

"Dinner with my parents," Eddie says as he locks the door.

"Uh..." Buck blinks. "Do you want... Sh-should I wait here?"

"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight, you're crazy." Eddie cups the side of his face and pecks him once on the lip before heading to the truck. It's so domestic, so perfectly easy. Buck thinks he must be losing his mind because there's no way to kiss someone like that two minutes after your very first kiss. "Besides." Eddie throws him a grin as he slips into the driver's seat. "If Chris found out I'd kept you from him for even a second, he'd really never forgive me."

[coyotes-rules-of-change]

Author's Note: A version with photos is linked below. Scroll down—if that is what you desire.

Uh oh. It's getting pretty hard isn't it...

Get it? Hard? Because your cock is getting so hard and I bet it's getting harder and harder to keep yourself from touching it.

I mean, if I'm giving you the hot muscular body and the confidence and charisma for you to shake loose the bonds of your rise through the ranks but you can't get it without a cost, or at least a trial. Frankly in transformation circles, the rule is common: wanna keep your brains? You don't get to cum for 24 hours while the magic of the transformation... "cures."

I guess I didn't tell you how hard it would become. And the willpower you've gotta wield to keep those precious smarts in your head is drawing thinner and thinner as it gets harder and harder.

I gotta be honest, you're doing so well even though it's so hard. You have just a half an hour left—thirty minutes before you can cum. Thirty minutes and you don't have to worry any more. I believe in you; it's not that long, it's not that hard, you can wait for that sweet release. Even though the time seems to slow, even though the pleasure builds... you can keep your hands off that long hard—

Oh dear. It got to be too much, didn't it. You thought a quick graze, a light touch, the briefest of moments would release the pressure and keep you going. You felt that jolt, that hot flash, that pulse of pleasure— no! It's too hard. It's too long. It just feels too good...

...but it helped. It bought you another minute. It's only... twenty three minutes now... so you could try it again...

Feel the wave of pleasure course through you as you give it a rub, two rubs, thr— no. That's enough... let it settle, let it wane, let it swell again, and another three minutes gone.

You can touch it again—once, twice, three times. You let the wave flow through your body—cloud your mind, settle. Two minutes gone.

And rub again, swell, relief, wane.

And rub again, swell, relief, wane.

And rub again, and again, and again.

It's so hard. It's so long. It feels so good, but the only way to keep it at bay is to give in just enough, rub just slowly enough, release only a little of that pleasure as time stretches longer. The last minutes slow to an agonizing fog of horniness as you keep yourself edging on the precipice of release without crossing over. Closer and closer to climax until...

Though the fog, you hear your alarm. Time was up. Release. Relief. You did it. You have the body, the charisma, and the brains, and now you could afford to take it all in. You could finally take that new dick through it's first test drive. It was time to...

Release, relief, pleasure. It overtakes your body and mind all in one instant. It pulses through you in waves and clouds your mind in horniness while cum shoots, and shoots, and shoots. out of your cock. You long cock. Your hard cock. Your beautiful cock. The pleasure recedes and your muscles relax and your mind settles... and clears... and empties in the post climactic bliss. It just felt so good. You've never felt so good. You sat for a moment... a minute? an hour?

You knew you wanted something... a job... a position... something else? But all you could process was that orgasm... your throbbing cock... your pleasure... your horniness swelling back into you. It gets harder. It gets longer. It just keeps feeling better and better...

————————

I suppose I should explain... That common rule: you can't cum or you'll ejaculate your brains outta your dick—that's not a real thing. No, unfortunately for him, the best way for him to have kept his smarts was to cum immediately. I've never had anyone make it the full day, though. He is so horny, he doesn't have room in that braincell of his to process much more. He's gonna be rubbing that cock of his all-day, everyday. Aww, seems kinda pathetic really. Maybe I'll send in a few guys to suck his dick and make sure he drinks some water or something. And maybe help him set up a Grindr and an OnlyFans.

Hey all, This story had pictures but certain censors found them to be to dangerous for this community—you know, erotic content. Blah blah blah. As a result I've taken a step common in the community and created a Blogspot.

[tooxmanyxships]

Not sure how it works about promts (I’m rusty) sorry in advance but landoscar and “you might be the death of me” with a first kiss?

That's exactly how a prompt works, no need to apologize 🖤

It was probably obvious for everyone who wasn't blind that Lando and Oscar were always flirting with each other.

Even the blind could probably tell, with the tension between those two. It was probably feelable.

The only one it probably wasn't obvious to was Lando.

Funnily enough, he's the one who flirts the most, driving Oscar positively insane sometimes.

They had to do yet another team challenge together, in which Oscar tried, and failed incredibly, not to look at Lando too much.

The Aussie boy couldn't help himself. Lando could be so annoyingly endearing without even realizing it himself.

It was plain torture, really.

"Oscar," Lando nudged his teammate, trying to imitate his Australian accent as usual. "Are you listening, mate?"

Oscar rolled his eyes automatically. "Yeah. I'm listening."

And so the challenge went on until one of them won. Or it was a draw.

Oscar didn't even remember what it was. He was too distracted by his teammate.

Now they were walking back to the McLaren facility, duties done. But Landostill didn't leave Oscar's side.

"Lando, I'm not gonna get lost, you know."

"Nah, I know. Just thought you'd like some company."

Oscar blinks, not sure what to say. "Uh, sure."

So Lando follows him, then split up to each go into their own drivers room to pick up their stuff.

When Oscar comes out, Lando is already waiting for him. The younger boy isn't even surprised.

They even take the same car to the hotel.

Lando keeps on scrolling on his phone and Oscar keeps on staring at him.

It's so annoying. But he just can't keep his eyes off of him.

They walk to their hotel rooms together too, still side by side.

"I don't think I can sleep yet."

Oscar sighs and strokes his fingers through his hair. "I'm not sure I can either."

A grin lights up Lando's face. "Wanna play some fifa? Or whatever game you want to play."

Oscar pretends to think about it. He already made up his mind. "Yeah. Okay."

Lando smiled, and if Oscar hadn't agreed already, he'd do it again, just for that smile.

So they went to Lando's room and dropped onto his bed, Lando giving the other boy the second controller.

They play for a good while until Lando gets tired of constantly beating Oscar. Oscar was just distracted, okay?

He kicks Oscar out and tells him to have a good night's sleep because there's another team challenge coming up the next day.

Oscar groans, not sure if he's gonna survive the next day.

~~~~~~~~**************~~~~~~~~~~

He was right in thinking the next day was gonna be hell; because it was.

Well, not that it was a bad day exactly, but---watching Lando being....well, being Lando was enough torture for Oscar.

How much longer could he possibly deal with this before he'd go and do something stupid.

Like kiss the older boy in front of the camera.

Really.

How much longer......

Finally the shooting was done and Oscar could relax again.

Or so he thought.

Because Lando is still following him and talking and absolutely driving Oscar crazy without even really doing anything special.

It's just that Oscar simply can't take it anymore.

He grabs Lando by the arm and pulls him along for a bit, completely ignoring the other's protests, before pushing him into a more secluded spot.

Lando is about to ask him what the fuck he's doing, when Oscar already cuts him off.

"You might be the death of me."

Lando still doesn't get the chance to talk because Oscar is up in his personal space, pressing his lips against his and all other thoughts are forgotten.

As Oscar finally pulls back, but still stays close, Lando can't help but grin.

"If being the death of you is what it takes for you to kiss me like that, then I'll happily be the death of you all the time time."

Oscar thinks that won't be a hard task for the Brit at all.

And..... If it means that he keeps getting to kiss him, then he won't have a problem with it either.

[mamawasatesttube]

“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” please!

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Dick both looks and sounds harried, Bat-comm in hand as he ushers Kon in from the balcony. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but you never know with Arkham breakouts—also, there's some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if he can keep that down it'll be great, and—yes, B, I'm on my way, I heard you the first seventeen times—sorry, Conner, it's a bit hectic, but—"

"Hey, man." Kon gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. "I got this. You go do your thing and let me wrangle the poor sickly scrunkle, yeah?"

Dick pauses on one leg, one shoe on, the other in hand. "The scrunkle?"

"Tim," Kon clarifies. "You know, 'cuz he's scrunkly."

"...I see," Dick says, not sounding like he particularly sees at all. But there's no time to explain; he flashes a quick grin, fires off a two-fingered salute, and calls one more "Thanks again!", and then he's gone.

Kon cocks his head and waits.

After seventeen seconds, the jingle bell he stuck to the outside of Dick's bedroom windowframe on his way in chimes, and he snorts to himself as he superspeeds right on over to the fire escape outside.

"Predictable, Rob," he says, lounging midair. Tim, staring at the bell in his hand with great prejudice, scowls; the effect is rather ruined by his adorable hot pink bird-printed pajamas. "You definitely have a fever if you fell for that one."

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glares at him. Coughs. Glares some more. "I don't need a"—cough, cough—"babysitter. I'm not that sick. Dick's just fussing."

Kon eases himself back in through the window, closes it against the night air, and presses his lips to Tim's forehead, ignoring the way Tim splutters. He's cute when he gets grumpy. "Mmm, well, that certainly feels like a high fever to me!"

"It's only a hundred and one," Tim mutters. And coughs again. Christ on a bike, he really sounds like death warmed over. The red flush to ohis face really isn't helping things, either.

Also. Christ on a bike? Really? Sheesh, Kon's spending too much time with Ma's friends on Bingo Sundays.

"Mm, yeah, so we're getting you back in bed," Kon informs him, and plucks him off the ground, sets him on his hip like the world's most disgruntled toddler, and carries him back over to Dick's bed, where he's clearly been being fussed over already, if the box of tissues, empty mugs, and cough drops are anything to go by.

"I'm not that sick!" Tim protests. Kon sees right through him, though; his wiggles of dissent are weaker than usual. "I can help. You heard Dick earlier, it's all hands on deck—"

"Which is why, if things get particularly dire, Dick already said he'll call me in," Kon says, and draws the blankets up over Tim's chest. "Seriously, Rob. The others have it in hand. And I," he grins, cupping Tim's face in his palms, "have you in hand."

Tim favors him with a very flat look, followed by a very pathetic sniffle. Oh, jeez, Kon wants to bundle him up and feed him soup and fuss over him forever. "Ha ha."

"I know, I'm hilarious." Kon squishes his cheeks before letting go. "Now, I'm gonna go get you some soup and your next dose of meds, and you're gonna stay right here in bed and not try any more escape attempts because you know I'm gonna catch you and bring you right back. And we are gonna watch your choice of 'Wendy', 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', or 'Lord of the Rings', until you inevitably knock the fuck out because you are sick as hell, dude, and I do not mean in the Tony Hawk way. Got it?"

Tim heaves a weary, put-upon sigh that just sends him into another coughing fit; it sounds rough and scratchy and painful just to hear, and Kon winces in sympathy, leaning over to rub his back. Aw, Tim...

"I guess I can live with that," Tim rasps, his eyes watering. Kon is seized by the urge to kiss his forehead again, properly this time; he wants to take care of him so bad.

"Good! 'Cuz you don't get a choice." Kon gently ruffles his hair, eases him back against his pillows, and then tuts softly to himself and strokes the hair back from Tim's sweaty forehead. His poor Rob...

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm stuck with you." Tim sighs again, closing his eyes. After a moment, though, he smiles ever-so-slightly, his eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "...I wouldn't have it any other way."

That's gotta be the fever talking—it's true, and Kon knows it's true, but Tim wouldn't just say it like that—but it makes Kon's heart flutter all the same.

He leans down and kisses Tim's forehead before he can lose his resolve. "Right back at'cha, Rob," he says, smiling. "Now lemme go get you your soup."

"Good luck," Tim mumbles, opening his eyes just slightly. "Don't fall in, have fun, et cetera..."

Kon laughs. "Will do," he says, and stands to leave.

(It's not until he's waiting in front of the microwave that he realizes: since the moment he left Tim's side, he's been—quite literally—walking on air.)

50 Prompts About Devotion

[punsmaster69]

9/MAR/20XX

"Uuugh."

frisk groaned as they wiped up a mess of orange juice.

"How did I even manage to miss that badly?"

"We are all a little loopy in the mornings."

"Golly. The cup was RIGHT there... and yet you still missed!"

"Maybe you should leave that to Toriel still, huh?"

flowey laughed at frisk's misery.

"Flowey, be nice."

"...Though, I am more than willing to assist you if you need help, my child."

"I can pour it normally. Just... not right now, apparently."

"like she said - it's mornin' still, and you just woke up. don't beat yourself up over it."

i glance to flowey.

"and don't let any flowers beat you up over it, either."

"I'll say what I want!"

a stern look from toriel.

"....."

he huffs and goes back to picking the cereal out of his marshmallows.

toriel gave this a disapproving look too, but it's a regular occurrence.

she helped frisk pour another glass of orange juice, and they slumped back in their chair, deflated. don't know if i've ever seen a kid look more upset while drinking oj.

"Are you still planning to follow Sans home after you eat?"

they looked at me.

"paps won't be back until around ten."

"I'm good to hang out with you until then."

"alright."

"Flowey, will you be-"

"Staying here."

"I don't want to be around those two nincompoops alone for two hours."

again, an occurrence too regular for her to bother saying anything about anymore. these days, she almost doesn't even notice the insults sometimes. i think everyone else tunes them out a little, too.

——

"...."

"so, are backwards shoes the new thing?"

"..What?"

frisk paused and looked down.

"........"

"How."

they started walking again.

"No wonder they felt weird."

"you wanna stop and fix 'em?"

"I'm gonna take them off at your house anyway, so I'm gonna just deal with it until then."

"well, c'mon - this way. i know a little shortcut."

——

a ball of paper bounces off my skull.

frisk slams their head into the side of the couch, not accounting for the fact that it'd hurt.

"Aggh-"

"careful."

uncrinkling the ball, there was the start of a drawing with scribbles where the legs would be.

i folded the page back up, and they loosely smacked it out of my hand.

the paper smacked them in the face.

". . ."

".....jeez."

"lady luck's got a vendetta against you, huh?"

sitting bolt upright, they shouted.

"Not just that, but I keep messing stuff up - and then having the WORST luck with just about everything else!!"

throwing their arms up in the air...

and immediately hitting my brother on accident, who just entered.

"Oh mY GODDDDD-"

curling forward into a ball.

"welcome home, bro. you're a bit early."

"HELLO..."

looking with concern at the human groaning annoyedly on the couch in front of him.

"...UM."

"IF YOU'RE UPSET ABOUT HITTING ME, WORRY NOT! I AM A-OKAY!!"

"IT TAKES MUCH MORE THAN THAT TO HURT SOMEONE AS STRONG AS I!"

"not just that - their luck's been shot all day."

"And shit."

he sat himself onto the couch and dragged frisk like a stuffed animal to his chest for a hug.

"HAVE NO WORRIES - THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE TO BALANCE YOUR POOR LUCK OUT WITH MY OWN INCREDIBLE LUCKINESS!!"

"AND NOW THAT I'M HERE... WHAT ACTIVITIES SHALL WE DO, HUMAN?!"

".....Can we just sit here?"

"WH-"

"sounds good to me."

"WAIT, WHY??"

"Nothing bad can happen if I do nothing at all."

"sound logic."

"NO, IT ISN'T! NOTHING GOOD CAN HAPPEN, EITHER!!"

"If you're here, that's good. That happened and I didn't do anything to cause it."

"WELL, YES. BUT THAT WAS INEVITABLE. I WAS ALWAYS TO COME HOME AND HANG OUT - AS ALREADY PLANNED."

"And I wanna hang out by doing nothing."

"......"

"we could at least put on a movie."

"...."

"DOES THAT SOUND NICE, FRISK?"

"...Yeah."

"and i'm pretty sure we've got popcorn still."

"we'll do a movie night."

"IT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER FOR SURE!"

——

they dumped the bowl of blackened kernels into the trashcan.

they sighed defeatedly.

"..W-WELL. THAT'S OKAY! WE'LL JUST MAKE YOU ANOTHER BAG."

he opened the cabinet and grabbed the popcorn box, reaching in and... patting the empty inside.

"......."

𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮.

𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮.

𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮.

frisk pounded their head against the sink door. i put my hand between the door and their forehead to lessen the impact of the blows.

my brother gently pulls them away from the door by the shoulders, turning them around.

"NOW, NOW. THIS IS OKAY, TOO!"

"WE STILL HAVE-"

"me and undyne split the last of the chips the other day."

"...WE CAN STILL STOP BY THE STORE AND GET YOU A SNACK THAT DOESN'T REQUIRE ANY PREPARATION!"

"here, i know a shortcut."

"Another?"

"yep."

"COME ALONG!"

——

exhaling every bit of air they had, frisk looks between the cash on the counter, and the total on the screen - thirty cents short.

quickly appearing beside them, papyrus moves all their cash back into their bag (slipping an extra ten in) and pats frisk's head as he hands it back.

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT, FRISK. I WAS GOING TO PAY ANYWAY!"

the way they looked at the machine, you'd think it was about to reject papyrus' card or blow up or something.

it didn't. he quickly waved goodbye to the cashier as he scooped up frisk's items into a bag himself. he passes it to frisk, and they take his hand. with the other, he grabs onto my hand.

"MAYBE WE CAN WALK! FRESH AIR SHOULD DO EVERYONE SOME GOOD."

halfway down the sidewalk, a branch catches frisk's bag. the bag tears; their chips and candy fall to the floor - sweet tea rolling away.

i stop it with my foot, picking the other items up as well.

"i'll pack 'em. no problem."

taking the torn bag and shoving it into my pocket, we continue walking.

a bit further on, papyrus spots a puddle on the side of the road. spontaneously grabbing frisk and lifting them up, a car speeds past and sprays him with water - i just barely get out of the way.

frisk remains unsoaked, thanks to my brother's quick thinking.

"...WHEN DID IT RAIN?"

"sometime last night."

"AH. I SEE."

"Thank you Papyrus. I'm sorry."

"DON'T BE! IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT."

"maybe we take a shortcut after all."

——

the rest of the day, papyrus is extremely diligent in making sure nothing else happens to frisk. in the end he secretly seems thankful for the doing-nothing choice.

it really is easier to keep someone out of bad luck's way when they're sitting still.

papyrus makes tomato soup for dinner, deciding nothing can go wrong with that. to be absolutely certain, he cools it to nearly room temp before serving any to them. when frisk almost spills it, he hands them a straw.

"...isn't that a bit much?"

"It's fine. Not like I haven't used one for soup before."

"CERTAINLY NO WAY TO SPILL IT WITH A STRAW."

succeeding again, he messages tori to say he'll keep them just until bedtime.

"YOU NEED A BAD-LUCK COUNTERBALANCE LIKE ME AROUND TODAY."

frisk nods in silent agreement.

both me and frisk are impressed at his ability to navigate around unlucky situations throughout the night, but i suppose he 𝗵𝗮𝘀 been dealing with 𝘮𝘦 forever. avoiding messes is basically a special skill of his at this point.

when it was time for frisk to go home, paps was still pretty worried and accompanied them all the way home - apparently even going as far as to tuck them in himself, according to toriel.

[jhilsara]

Please keep posting more!! I'm loving it so far <3

Can I ask why Erik doesn't use Princess as MCs petname anymore?

Hello! I'm back with another part! 4?

But I don't have Erik use Princess strictly just because I personally don't like it and it kinda nauseates me to write it. I'm not gonna yuck your yum, but it just isn't for me, I can do any other pet name but Princess just gives me the ick for some reason.

~Beach Episode~

It’s finally summer and summer means vacation.

Two weeks into June and MC is itching to do something. LIZARD TIME

She’s been lounging in the sun in the backyard reading and Erik is tanning next to her.

Matthews in the grass holding a portable fan on his face and Damien’s sitting in a chair with a big sunhat listening to the audiobook of the same book as MC for their little summer book club

James was inside making a light lunch and Sam was just coming home from working out.

“Oh, I see we’re all outside today and no one invited me?” Sam “You were working out. MC mentioned sun bathing and that was all I needed.” Erik “Except its hot as balls out here!” Matthew whines. “I wish we had a pool!” “The beach could be nice.” Damien “Oh my god I haven’t been to the beach in ages!” MC jolts up in excitement. Sam laughs and ruffles her hair. “Calm down no one said we’re going.” MC pouts. “Who said we’re going somewhere?” James “Damien suggested we go to the beach.” Erik “…why not? We could go next week.” James “Seriously?” Sam James shrugs, “I don’t really want to sit in a week-long meeting with her dad glaring holes into my head. Pushing back the meeting will also just piss him off so this is a win for me.” “So…. The beach?” MC “Why not? I’ll get the flight scheduled for us. We can leave Sunday.” James “Finally, a vacation!” Erik

They get on a short flight to end up in Savannah GA and Tybee Island.

They get a connecting room with 4 beds in total. MC sleeps in her own and Sam too…mostly cause he’s a bed hog and will kill anyone but Damien.

It takes the group very little time to throw their things down in the hotel before running to the beach.

James goes to spend his first day looking for sharks teeth.

Erik is sunbathing and listening to his own music.

Matthew and Sam are swimming together and probably trying to drown each other.

Damien is sitting next to Erik listening to an audio book and drawing in the sand.

MC starts by sunbathing with Erik and Damien

She’s laying on her stomach, sunglasses on, and stretching over her towel. “It’s so nice out today!” MC “Perfect weather for a vacation. I’m already looking at restaurants with patios for this evening.” “Damien can you hand me a seltzer?” The cooler hidden under the umbrella is filled with alcohol. Damien grabs one to hand to her. “Make sure you eat with those. The sun’s hot today you’ll get dehydrated.” Damien mentions. “I’ll be fine I brought sandwiches in there too!” MC

After baking in the sun and 3 seltzers and 2 mini sandwiches she’s dozing off on her towel.

Until water starts dripping on her face.

She looks up and sees Sam hovering over her, dripping the ocean all over her.

He’s smiling at her and shakes his soaking wet hair like a dog, all of it landing on her. “Ew! Sam gross! I was almost asleep!” She sits up and swats at his legs. He just laughs and sits next her, making her scoot over on her towel to make room. “Did you not bring your own towel out here?” MC He’s pressing his wet body against her and reaching past her to grab a seltzer and a sandwich. Her face is tomato red. “Yea but you’re already here and sharing is caring or whatever.” Sam “Well you’ve now soaked my towel.” She says irritated trying to hide her blush. Sam inhales his sandwich, “Perfect, so you can get in the water now.” He gives her a toothy grin. She rolls her eyes playfully but agrees. “Only if you help me reapply sunscreen to my back I can’t reach.” She reaches back to grab her bottle and Sam’s face blushes. “Uh yeah. Totally. Can do that, yup.” Sam She reapplies her sunscreen and waits for Sam to finish his drink. She sits still and waits for Sam’s hands on her back. Sam gently massages the sunscreen on her back and actively is avoiding the intense stare he is getting from Erik. Erik and Damien are just like… mmhmm definitely no sexual tension with these two idiots

Matthew, Sam, and MC are in the ocean and actively attacking each other with salt water.

Matthew’s trying to jump Sam to throw him in the water, but Sam just tosses his over.

Sam captures MC by the waist and pulls her further into the water with him.

“Sam! I don’t wanna go that deep!” She tries to wiggle out but he keeps her locked in. “It’s fine I won’t let you go promise! Just want some distance from Matthew he won’t swim this far out.” Sam “Fine but let me at least hold on to your neck, I feel unstable.” MC Sam easily adjusts her, she’s facing him now, arms locked firmly around his neck and he’s holding onto her waist with one and under the crook of her knee in another. “Is this, uh better.” The playful nature has left and they both are flushing. “Yeah… uh” she swallows hard, “This is better.” They have stopped moving out deeper and Sam keeps them afloat as they drift with the waves. “You guys are too far out and Erik’s stressing out! Get back over here!” Matthew is yelling at them but also getting hit by the wake. Sam groans and throws his head back in irritation, “We’re coming!” he shouts back. “Jesus, can’t get a second of peace around here…” he mutters. She’s chuckling and shoves her face in his neck. “Not really no.”  Back on the beach Erik lectures her and Sam but they’re barely listening. They are laid out on their towels catching their breath. James finally comes back to the group with a container containing a few sharks teeth. He looks like he’s happy so probably a success. “Back to the hotel to clean up then dinner?” James suggests to them. “Yes please!”

Between 6 people and 2 bathrooms they all take turns to get ready. But it is a race to see who gets to shower first.

The restaurant they pick is chill, fresh seafood, and an amazing patio. She is sitting in the sun and her sundress gently floats in the wind.

Everyone talks about their great day and what the plans are for tomorrow. 

They’re only staying for 3 days but they are ready to fill it with activities.

Mc, Erik, and Damien plan to go to some of the strip outlets and shop most of the morning/early afternoon the next day.

Then her afternoon MC is making everyone play a family game of cheesy beach mini golf.

To say they were competitive was an understatement. They were FOUL

James is actively keeping score, but also actively trying to knock others balls away from the hole. Erik is the only one playing fair and just trying to get this over with. Sam will hit the ball way too hard and has broken two different objects on the holes. He also is constantly accusing James or Matthew of cheating. Matthew is either trying to ruin Sam’s game or he’s just obnoxiously good at getting a hole in one. Damien is also way too invested and definitely ruining everyone’s game by blurting out whatever strategy they think of.

MC is just trying to win by pinning them against each other, but also actively going before Sam and bending over just enough to peak her ass out of her skirt. Damien at least doesn’t blurt out her plan there. But every time he is actively giving her a look of disappointment.

She feels a least a little shame when he does make eye contact with her.

The last day on the beach they all go back to the ocean to basically rinse and repeat their events of the day prior.

MC does start her day planning on getting day drunk though.

By mid afternoon Sam comes back from the water and he does sit on his own towel this time. He sits next her and leans back on his hands soaking up the sun.

MC is 5 drinks in and feeling t i p s y

It’s only her and Sam by the group’s belongings. Matthew and Erik and trying to teach Damien how to swim and James is halfway across the beach hunting for sharks’ teeth.

She readjusts after Sam sits down. She flips over onto her stomach and uses her arms as a pillow and lays on Sam’s legs.

“Comfortable?” Sam jokes MC just mumbles in agreement getting herself comfortable. “Hey doofus, I’m talking to you.” Sam She smacks his leg lightly. “I hear you. I’m just resting my eyes.” Sam pushes her hair out of her face and looks at their trash bag seeing the cans. He laughs and looks down at her, “Are you drunk?” he asks her. “Nooooo, I’m just a little tipsy Sam. I’m fine, I just need a nap.” She keeps her eyes closed as she snuggles closer to him. Sam raises a brow and pats her head. He looks up and sees Erik coming back to them. “Yea well you’re gonna take a nap inside.” Sam “But you’re so comfortable!” She whines. “Yea but you’ll be comfier inside, on a bed.” Sam chuckles standing up and easily helps MC up to carry her back to the hotel. He puts her on his back and she easily wraps her arms around his neck. He hoists her up and hooks his arms under her legs “Only if you nap with me like last time.” She mumbles. Sam rolls his eyes, “I’ll shower first and if you’re still awake I’ll lay with you alright?” “No. You’re just gonna trick me into passing out in the bed without you.” She pouts. “Caught me red handed.” Sam smirks “Please Aomaris.” She whispers into his back. A chill runs down his back and his grip tightens a little. “Yea.” He swallows hard his mouth dry, “I’ll lay with you for a bit.” “Yay!” She nestles more into his neck making his heart race. “Yea, yea, you win.” He mumbles red in the face. Sam drops her onto the bed and she bounces softly and giggles to herself. He rolls his eyes but is smiling at her joy. He turns and sees her smiling broadly up at him. It’s like the sun with how bright she is. She makes grippy hands at him. He laughs, “What are you, 5?”  She pouts but continues, “Just get in the bed already I’m tired.” He listens and nudges her over as he gets in.  “You’re so pushy!” She doesn’t respond and just throws her arms over him, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer to her. Se rests her head in the crook if his neck. Sam goes rigid and doesn’t move at all. They’re still in their swimsuits and her breasts are wrapped in a bikini pushing against his chest. She peeps one eye open to look at him, his brain clearly trying to catch up. She sighs. “Sam you can hold me you know?” He chokes for a second before responding, “Uh yeah, just uh, didn’t want you to think I was being handsy cause you’re drunk.” She moves herself back to look him in the eye, “I’m not drunk, and any buzz I had you just ruined. Sam, I’m asking you to lay in the bed with me and hold me. Okay?” Sam almost chokes on his own spit. He’s blushing. “Yea, uh yea. Got it.” He hesitantly wraps his arms around her waist. She settles back down and gets comfortable. Her eyes shoot open before she can actually try to nap, her heart beating a mile a minute. “Unless you don’t want to and I’m totally forcing you to do this, oh my god.” She lets go of him and uses her hands to cover her face from embarrassment hiding in his chest. He starts laughing loudly. Sam grabs her and rolls them over so he’s flat on his back and she’s laying directly on top of him. He grabs her hands and moves them down from her face. He’s smiling at her and still laughing, “MC, I’m good. I want to hold you, I’m nervous I wasn’t expecting you to just throw yourself at me.” Her face goes tomato red. He’s still holding her hands so she can’t move them to hide her face in embarrassment. “I did not throw myself at you!” Her voice pitches in response. “I’m teasing you, calm down.” He’s laughing still. “Saaaaaaaaam!” she groans in irritation. “Calm down doofus,” he pulls her hands up to his lips and kisses them. “let’s just take a nap now alright?” Her face is still burning hot but he lets go of her hands and flips them onto their sides and throws the blanket over them. He grabs her waist and pulls her into him. She sighs and readjusts wrapping her arms around his waist and settling herself under his head. “You’re such a dick.” She mumbles into his chest. She feels him chuckle and tighten his grip and kisses the top of her head. “You like it.”

They sleep until everyone else comes back in from the beach and its Matthew that wakes them up. Well more like his very noisy presence wakes them.

When he comes in he throws his stuff down and starts talking loudly, he doesn’t even notice the two sharing a bed, or that they’re very asleep.

When he does notice he gets l o u d e r. Making all of the brother notice.

Sam throws a pillow hitting him square in the head.

They end their vacation having a nice dinner at one of the nicest restaurants.

Sam and MC sit across from each other almost in their own world the whole night.

They go home the next morning and things between MC and Sam and definitely different.

That was the beach mini episode that I added in. Diana comes in the next part but I also reworked a lot of that and slide into the second game pretty quickly. There's more notes so just let me know! This does make me wanna sit down and actually write more. I need to finish parts of the notes/draft though... I'm not positive what I'm doing with the second game completely yet.

[sleepyowlwrites]

hello, since you oferred advice to the other anon can I get some words of wisdom too? you don't have to, I understand it can be a lot to ask. or maybe just a ear to listen? idk I'mhaving mixed emotions right now because somet things made me realize that even though I like writing, it's only gonna be ever for myself. which isn't a bad thing but I wanted to one day publish something but I find out now that writing is really hard and I don't have the discipline or even much interest it studying how to do it "right" like all the technicalities and stuff. so really I just like the finished product and how it "looks" in my brain more. I do like trying to figure out how to make a story make sense and all the behind the scenes stuff, but I'm rarely able to get to that stage due to being tired and unable to focus/ discipine myself to work.

I was wondering if there was something I could do about it? I mean I guess I need to accept that now when I write it's just gonna be as a hobby and for myself. though, similar to the other anon, I would like to share my writing, I mean I think we all want to share something we make at some point. but I probably have to give up wanting to make any kind of career or even part time thing from writing. I'm just not built for it I guess.

it's hard to accept. I tried developing templates for myself to follow to make it easier but I failed. I've tried many tips and suggestions and advice to write better but I just can't seem to grasp the craft. even reading doesn't help me.

I've thought about writing poetry instead, like you. but even though I like reading it I don't really like writing it much. I prefer to have characterts and drama, typical story stuff. but I struggle when it comes to putting everything together and actually crafting/building the story rather than just tell it.

sorry this got too long, I'm not really sure what I was trying to say, just need to go on a rant. I'm sorry if this was rude of me. thanks for reading if you do and I always like your responses so that's why I reached out, but let me know if I shouldn't do it like this

Had to wait until I got home from work.

So it looks like you understand your situation pretty well, actually, which is great to see.

Writing doesn't have to be a full time thing for you to go the published route. We have several published authors on here who have other jobs! You don't need to devote your whole career to it. It's fine for it to be a hobby and for it to be a hobby that you'd like to pursue a final result in.

If writing is something you enjoy, keep doing it, and if you'd like to progress, you can do it. (You can probably do it. Not everything is achievable for everyone. I will never be able to do advanced math, no matter how hard I try. My brain can't process it. But from what you're saying, your braincan process writing.)

You already know stuff you like or dislike, right? You know the story, just not how to tell it? Here are a few things that have worked for me and my discombobulated brain.

1. Bullet point lists. Just listing off major plot beats in bullet points. It's not an outline, it's not a plan, it's just a list of stuff that happens.

2. Rubber ducking. I pick somebody from something I've watched recently - for a whole there it was Keanu Reeves - and I explain my story to them multiple times so I understand myself how it works. Or not.

3. Draw a map. Not just a land map, but a map of where the characters go and notes on where they're from and what they're doing in each place.

4. Ask games. I make up so much stuff for ask games and some of it even stays canon!

5. Don't try to fit yourself into one mold of one type of writer. Just write whatever. Write one wip or 17. Write short fiction. Write fanfiction. Write one paragraph stories. Write comics with stick figures or rambling prose that goes nowhere.

5. When you read, rewrite it in your head. Edit those books! Pull out a trope you notice and stick it in a story. (A trope is anything as general as "enemies to lovers" and as specific as "traumatized tall girl with a big sword.")

6. Actually rewrite scenes, from any media you like. Choose a new pov. Focus on a particular sense, like touch, or write it in future tense, or change the setting.

7. Write descriptive prose that's not a story. Write something that's only dialogue. Write journal entries. Switch it up.

And sweetheart, if you are unable to focus or enjoy this hobby that is usually a good time for you, I think think the hobby is the issue. There's something else going on in your brain and taking up the space and you don't have room to create.

For instance, I work retail, full-time, and it’s the holiday season, and I'm fatigued and stressed and not currently writing anything. But I was also not writing when it wasn't the holiday season. And I was too fatigued to create then, too. And it's probably because my depression is acting up.

This might not be the case for you. I can't know. But everybody learns differently, and if you're willing to try new ways of learning, you might find the one that works for you! I hope so. I hope that you sit down with your brain and parse through it, taking the time to figure out the style that suits you best.

But mostly I hope you understand that regardless of how your brain functions or doesn't, that you are amazing and trying, because you like this thing, and you don't want to give up on it. So good job. As long as it is a thing that you like, I hope you keep trying. Somewhere there is a method that speaks to you, some way that helps you find the dawn after the dark. I believe you can find it.

Keep going, love.