#and I feel like people really don't care about my novels and only care about the fic and won't read the former

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Just in case you needed a laugh today - my (incredibly random) notes I took whilst reading Masque of Shadows:

*notices all the little writer things to show what the characters look like, etc, so as not to exposition everywhere*

Me: EEEEEEEEEE! 😍

*~*

Love me a good badass spymaster, huzzah.

*~*

Pheonix feathers are FIREWORKS!

*~*

No trauma or needless explanation of sexual or gender orientation - it just IS. 10/10, no notes.

*~*

I'm weak for green eyes (Dean Winchester, my beloved) but ma boy Eddie Diaz has turned me to brown so I FEEL YA, MATTHIAS!

*~*

The regent of Serenissima had been stabbed ten times.

Me:... Well, that's not good.

Also me: It's the whole point of the story, dingus.

*~*

Where was this book last year when my fiancé proposed, I want an engagement dagger!

In his defense, he has bought me so many books over the years, so. That's awesome.

*~*

Careful with that past tense, Matthias, Lyria isn't an idiot.

*two seconds later*

Told ya.

*~*

Oh, Jacques, you poor puppy. 😂

*~*

'It wasn't endearing' my ass, bless your heart, Matthias.

*~*

*finishes chapter twelve*

*cackles*

*~*

Nooo, Festivity!

*squints* Hang on...

*~*

See, I guessed Allegra, but then got all up in my head when Matthias accused Piper!

*~*

*Sapphire mocks Jacques getting railed*

Matthias: flustered

Me: *cackles*

*~*

Plague doctor mask for the win

*~*

Jasmine for White Masque. 💔 (My mum died some years ago and her favourite scent was jasmine)

*~*

I, too, struggled in maths

*~*

Inara! 😍 #fireflymybeloved

*~*

Ha! See, never trust the kid. 😅

*~*

I knew it was Antonio! Vindication dot gif!

I've been tearing up over this ask for a couple days now, and I considered not answering it so I could keep it to myself forever, but I wanted you to know how much it was appreciated.

I've been really struggling lately with my original novels. To be honest I've struggled for years with the idea that I'm not good enough as an original writer, creating my own worlds, and summer is when my seasonal depression hits so I'm not doing great in general (life has also been kicking my ass in some other ways but I'm not going to get into that).

I decided after talking it over with some trusted people that I would take a break. Focus on finishing my planned fics, so that I still feel I'm accomplishing something, and then when I wrap everything up for Halloween, I go back to my novels and see how I'm feeling. I don't like sharing all this publicly, but I know I have been making noises for a year now about trying to self-publish - creating a Patreon, submitting to lit agents again, making a separate blog under my professional name - and I feel like people deserve to know why I haven't yet delivered on those plans. I never want to be someone who's just all talk.

And I want you to understand just how very deeply I appreciate you sharing your reactions as you read my original story. I really love the whole cast of characters, some of whom like Festivity have lived in my head for over a decade. To know that you actually read and enjoyed it means the world. I'll be coming back to this ask and your lovely comments, and I hope it'll help me, come October, to feel ready to devote myself to my novels again.

Oh, also, my love and condolences about your mom. Jasmine is a smell I associate with a few different loved ones as well as clean, elegant spaces, and while I love how some cultures treat death as a celebration (Dia de los Muertos, Irish wakes) and not something to fear, I liked the idea of Serenissima, this generally party-heavy city, taking a break from all that in order to give the memory of the dead solemnity and dignity. I hope it was overall positive to have that part of the story remind you of her. ❤️

[featureenvyproductions]

Going to forever keep advertising my shit with tropes because do I have to? No. Am I too "stupid" to do it another way? No, not really. And as you've all seen, I also am perfectly capable of writing real blurbs and do write real blurbs. But I think it's fun to make the pic with the tropes anyway and have that around too. And also it keeps the pretentious people away. The sort who don't understand reading is not always for taking a "discomfort" vitamin because they A) are privileged enough to not have discomfort every day of their life to need to escape from or B) are fresh out of college and haven't discovered the joys of/have been shamed OUT of reading as a fun low pressure thing they can do to escape when they're fucking tired (and they think this sort of thing is new with fanfic and not more or less how "trash" lit like romance novels are marketed), as opposed to reading as some sort of Moral Duty To Be Deep that was instilled in them by a middle aged straight white English professor who thinks one can fulfill this by writing 10 pages about books where people scream at each other, have affairs with young women, or Make Up A Guy to warn people about things that Could Happen (that *cough* already happen to marginalized people *cough*) Anyway it's my version of a scarecrow. Firing shots to keep the rent low. Come take a seat next to me in the dumpster my fellow raccoons.

[hollowtones]

I'm obsessed with this message. It's so funny. Like, okay. I already know I'm fat and attractive. My wife can't keep their fuckin hands off of me. I already know women and lesbians are hungry for a gal that's built like a brick. I don't really care about validation from strangers about this, but it's a little hard to feel differently about myself when I have SEEN people desperate for me (and people like me)!!!

Not the point, though. Look at the way this message is worded. It's so confused! I love it! You look at it at a glance & it's like any dime-a-dozen "lol the fat freak wants to feel pretty" or whatever but I want you to look closer at the wording. It's the best part. They're implying that the being fat part of this is what will make me & others think I'm hot. Like I'm secretly rail-thin & trying to vie for BBW stolen valour here. It's the first ever hate mail from the Fat World. It sounds like the plot of a really shitty YA novel about prejudice where they try to Make You Think by making the protag the world's only conventionally attractive thin white woman.

Buck Bumble here got so mad about me living in their head for free that they've sent me the completely wrong message. I haven't stopped laughing for like two hours. This is snapping me out of a depressive episode, I think.

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[cho-aaacho]

Jealousy isn't really your style, is it?

Masterlist

Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.

Gojo Satoru

He becomes increasingly silent—too silent until you can't detect his emotion. His appetite vanished as waves of jealousy showered on his mind. You don't even notice that at first, thinking he might be tired from work.

However, as the sun goes down to the horizon and is replaced by the moonlight, his smile fades whenever your eyes meet his. He refrains from calling you endearing nicknames, skips the usual sensual morning kiss, and avoids his favorite cookies. When you suggest playing video games, Gojo simply groans and leaves you alone.

What's happening to him? Did you hurt your sweetheart? No. Until the sky falls, you don't have a heart to hurt your sweetheart.

You can't let the stillness linger; you can't leave everything unresolved. It's so hurtful, to be honest. Why would Gojo be so selfish like this? You need to find out what's going on with your little sweetheart.

That night, Gojo stood in his favorite spot within the apartment, drowning in the beautiful goldfish in the aquarium. Golden and yellow, reflected in his eyes like sunflower petals.

He gently tapped his finger on the aquarium's glass, making the whole atmosphere feel so cold. Gojo seemed unusually relaxed, in contrast to the person he once was. 

"I know I might come off as a boring and annoying man. People often say that, and I usually don't care about it at all because I understand it's not important. But when it comes from you—please... I don't want to hear that."

You do not quite understand what he means, but Gojo appears deeply hurt. His azure eyes, his words, his breath, the cologne he uses this time, the way he gazes at you—something feels off and unplaced.

This is the first time you've seen him so blue and so pained that the warmth in his lovely presence is almost undetectable. Everything is gone.

"Hey, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it hurts me when you smile at other guys. I want you to be mine, and only mine, and no one else. Please don't do that again, because you're irreplaceable. If I lose you, I can't find another like you."

Geto Suguru 

At first, he doesn't show his jealousy because Geto is the sweetest.

However, there comes a moment when he becomes more affectionate—increased physical touch, frequent kisses, hugs, showering you with praise, texting you almost every hour.

And when he does these things, he always leaves a sarcastic comment like, "I'm a better man, aren't I?" or "Can you see how much I care about you more than anyone else?"

and "I hope you're not blind enough to understand my affection."

also "I know you're not stupid enough to leave me alone. Because I hate being a loner."

It's somewhat annoying because Geto rarely behaves like this. It's simply... so strange, leaving you confused about whether it's a prank by the twins, if something horrible has hit him, or maybe he is too much into reading a weird romantic novel.

That morning, when you are sleeping on his lap, feeling his love, warmth, and kindness, he delicately traces his fingertips across your cheeks, down to your jawline, then meanders to your nose, pinching it gently, leaving a small chuckle before circling back to playfully tease the contour of your lips.

He leaned closer, sealing a gentle kiss on the nose tip and moving before grazing your lips with a small nibble. "Did Satoru ever kiss you like this? I doubt he has done this to you."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion etching your expression. "What do you mean, Suguru-kun?"

He sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed, cutie. I may not match Satoru's strength, but I'm not stupid. What were you up to with him last week? You seemed quite charmed with him, didn't you?"

He added. "Should I end both of you, so he can't have you and you can't have him? But I lack the heart to harm you, sweet love. Stop talking with that man. Because I hate sharing my love with someone else."

Nanami Kento

A tough man, he doesn't even realize if jealousy is starting to invade him; perhaps you might label it as denial. 

He puts on a facade that everything is fine, brushing off any concerns by assuming them to be mere imagination or work-induced stress.

No, you didn't cheat or talk with another man. You're always a nice woman to Nanami Kento, and of course, never in your wildest dreams will you hurt your man. 

However, a weird sensation starts to trouble him the next day when his coworkers engage in silly gossip about him and you. 

Whispers float behind him, dripping with a sarcastic tone like, "How could a good woman like her date someone like Nanami-san? He's so boring."

and someone chimes in. "Yeah, I heard she dumped Gojo-san and went with him; why does she think like that?"

From that moment onward, everything feels upside down.

Each day, each time, every time he sees your face, catches your gaze, and hears your voice echoing in his ears, all of these hurt him. 

He feels like he doesn't deserve you and thinks that perhaps you can find another guy, someone special, someplace that would make you safe and happy, someone who could make you feel at home whenever you run to them. 

And that man is not me.

"I realize I might not be as caring as other men, or perhaps I come off as too boring for someone like you. Honestly, I don't wish for your kindness to be shared with anyone else—even a fleeting smile from you stirs a deep ache within me. Maybe it's an obsession, but if you allow me to share my jealousy, I don't want you to meet that guy, Gojo Satoru. For heaven's sake, I fear losing all control and ending up hurting you. I love you." 

Fushiguro Megumi

Honestly, his anger management is the worst. There are scenes when he appears calm, collected, and cute, but, again, it's merely a facade he is creating, especially in your presence. 

When the flames of jealousy shower on Megumi, flirting with his life, everything transforms into a hellish field.

He loses his temper and becomes easily offended whenever Yuuji attempts to engage in conversation with him, roasting everyone in sight. The situation continues until Maki beats him and tells him how annoying he is.

He has a terrible urge to throw punches at everyone, driven by the need to tell them that you belong to him. He needs to make it clear that you're already committed to someone else and that your heart is sealed with Fushiguro Megumi. Only with that man and no one else.

His intention is not just to show his obsession but also to dissuade others from bothering both of you. He longs to compel them to kneel, satisfying his fleeting sense of pride.

It's pretty hilarious because whenever Gojo catches wind of it, he bursts into laughter and playfully teases Megumi all day. Well, it's natural for anyone to have jealousy within them, but... doesn't Megumi take it a bit too far?

You've observed this pattern and tried to convince your dear boyfriend that everything around him is just his imagination. He shouldn't be worrying, and he just hurts himself by treating people like that.

Yet, Megumi is Megumi.

"I don't think I'm overreacting to this. When I'm upset, I express it openly. It's frustrating when people assume I'm obsessed with you—I'm not. I just don't want you to get involved with someone who isn't worth it for you. I fear you'll end up hurt. You can choose me; I can prove not only to you but to everyone that I am the one who truly deserves you."

Choso

Choso isn't typically the jealous type, but when he notices a certain closeness between you and his brothers, everything changes. 

He genuinely cares for his brothers, going to great lengths to ensure their happiness and love. He values the bond you share with his brothers and cherishes the love and affection you have for each other.

However...

It's hard for him to put it into words. Everything is stuck in his throat and sealed inside his head. 

Every time he sees you with his brothers blossoming an indescribable feeling within him, it's a burning sensation that's hard to bear. The flame is starting to burn him alive.

The way you share meals with them or laugh at their jokes—all of these irritate him to the point that they make his heart beat so fast. Choso is aware that these emotions are too complicated; he can't hate his brothers, but the heart has a way of contradicting logic. 

How could God put love in his heart?

He fondly recalls the first snow you experienced together, the gentle embrace of summer against his skin, and the golden glow of spring's sun. 

But he still wonders when he falls in love with you. Maybe since the first time he met you? Or else?

"I find immense joy in sharing my time and days with you. My brothers seem to love you as well. Everything about you is beautiful, and I cherish the moments we share. I fear losing you and our precious time; that's why I act this way when you're with them. I want to be the one you choose."

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.

Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.

Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.

Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.

I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.

Thanks for your time.

I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.

This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.

Learn. Languages.

That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."

What kind of mental gymnastics is that?

How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.

There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.

Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -

Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.

Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"

By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.

So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?

Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.

Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.

The welcome awaits if you choose to learn

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Ok, I have two alternatives, pick which one you like the best.

Reader get picked to tutor Eddie even though they have always been at each other's throat, she thinking he's a drama queen, pissed that the popular people doesn't like him and he thinks she's a stuck up bitch without humor.

So they go back and forth but maybe one day when she's having a bad day and Eddie says something and she starts crying he gets all "what, how, why? What did I do, please don't cry!"

Or, that he catches her reading a romance novel and outwardly she has always just read classics - books that are 'high education'

Request by @somethingvicked 🫶💞 went with the first option 💞

Warnings; Little bit of angst, meanish Eddie, fluff. Accidental kiss.

💌🎀💌🎀

"You've got to be kidding me?" you gawk at Miss O'Donnell who has called you back at the end of class. She's asked you to tutor someone and at first you were all for it.

That's until you found out it was Eddie Munson, Munson who is currently sitting at the back of the class with his feet up on the desk in front of him, he gives you a sarcastic little wave and you turn back to Miss O'Donnell and hope she comes to her senses.

"He needs a tutor if he wants to graduate. You're the best student in the class. It will look wonderful on your college applications that you tutored Mr Munson" shit there was really no getting out of this.

Reluctantly you turn to Eddie who already doesn't like you. In his honest opinion you seemed prissy and stuck up. The two of you spent half your time at each other's throats, it had been like that for so long.

Equally you couldn't stand Eddie either. He was loud, a show off and you were sure he was jealous of the popular people he claimed to hate.

How you would manage to tutor him for weeks on end was anyone's guess. One thing's for sure, you were dreading this.

"Meet me after school tomorrow and we can get started okay?" You say to him already grumpy at having to spend extra time with him. Eddie swings his legs off the desk and smirks, then bows.

"As you wish princess" ugh, you storm out but not before hearing Eddie's laughter.

Asshole.

🎀💌🎀💌

The first week of tutoring Eddie is as horrible as you expected. He's antagonistic, makes no effort and needles at your patience until it's paper thin.

"How can you be expected to graduate if you don't make an effort?" You snap as Eddie strums on his guitar.

"That old bat has it in for me, even when I try my best she still doesn't care" Eddie hisses back and you feel the beginnings of a headache come on.

"You just need to apply yourself better, if you want to graduate then you need to ace this Munson" he glares at you.

"Don't you think I know that? It's easy for you though isn't it princess, since your little miss perfect" the insult flares up your annoyance and you and Eddie devolve into your usual arguments.

"Don't you think I have better things to do then tutor you Munson? So do us both a favour and start paying attention, so we can go our separate ways sooner".

He huffs and places down his guitar with gentle care, grabs his notebook and

"Did you draw these?" you ask curious as you trace your fingers over the images on his notebook. He nods and looks at you like he's expecting you to give him shit.

"They are really good Munson, you could think about applying to an art course after graduation" Eddie scoffs and takes his notebook back.

"Yeah like anyone's going to take me with my grades" his tone is all annoyance and it pisses you off.

"I was only trying to compliment you, why do you have to be so touchy all the time" you look away from him stubbornly, he is silent for a few seconds and when he speaks again his voice is soft.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to a lot of compliments from people" this softens you as well and you turn to face him and give him a small smile.

"Well you're really good" there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks when you say this. He nods and settles back down beside you.

"You know uh, you're pretty good with the whole writing thing, uh shit, you know what I mean" pleased and a little flustered at his compliment you clear your throat and mutter thank you, then get started with the book you and Eddie are reading for class.

🎀💌🎀💌

Today has been the worst day. You overslept, forgot to hand your essay in to your biology teacher, the rain soaked you completely as soon as you left your home and you've been verging on a cold ever since.

So the thought of having to tutor Munson again does not fill you with joy, in all honesty all you want is your bed and to sleep. You couldn't get sick, you had too much to do.

Of course from the moment you meet up with Eddie he's difficult. All because it's Friday and he has a Hellfire meeting.

"I have to set everything up princess, I don't have time to waste here with you" furious you round on him.

"You think that I want to be here? No. I'd rather be at home so sit down and let's get on with this so I don't have to sit with your annoying ass any longer than I have to"

"Well at least I'm not a stuck up bitch with no sense of humour and a permanent stick up my ass"

Eddie's words cut to the bone and you stiffen in response. Don't cry, don't cry you chant to yourself, but you can't help as the tears roll down your cheeks, Eddie's big brown eyes widen in shock as you begin to cry.

Humiliated, you're just about to leave when he steps in front of you. "Wait, what did I do?" The two of you exchanged insults on a daily basis and you had never cried before, Eddie begins to panic as your sobs continue.

"Please don't cry" he says, he hates seeing you cry. Your little whimper stabs at his aching heart and on instinct he reaches over to you and takes your hand, the gesture surprises you both and it dries up your tears.

"I'm sorry, I don't like seeing you cry, please stop" you sniff and wipe the remainder of the tears away, Eddie's hand is still holding yours and it's making you feel things that you never expected.

Eddie gently strokes your hand with his thumb, marvels at the soft skin and how your hand fits perfectly in his own.

Uh, shit. This was new. You smile at him, suddenly seeming shy. His heart skips a beat. Jesus h Christ.

"I didn't mean it" he stumbles over his words and you sigh sadly, peer at him with an expression that tugs at his heart.

"Yes you did" he shakes his head fervently and assured you that he didn't.

"I just snapped back without thinking, I'm sorry" he pleads with you and you hear the sincerity in his voice and calm down a bit.

"I'm sorry too. Today has been so shit, I'm tired and I feel like crap. I just want to sleep" Eddie immediately grabs his notebook and pencil and sits down, he looks to you patiently.

"Let's do half an hour and I'll cram as much as I can in my brain and then I'm going to drive you home okay?" relived you nod but still feel worried.

"Miss O'Donnell won't be happy" you tell him and he shrugs as if he doesn't care one bit.

"Leave the old dragon to me okay princess?" touched at his sweetness you take his hand and squeeze it as a thank you. Surprisingly the half hour passes by cordially and Eddie is still sweet.

Before you know it the half hour has ended and Eddie is true to his word and drives you home. You don't feel much better and your stomach is fluttering like crazy being so close to Eddie.

What the hell was happening? Was this some side effect of the flu? Eddie's big brown eyes meet yours, "Thanks for driving me home Eddie"

He shrugs like it's no big deal and on impulse you reach over to kiss his cheek. The only thing is he moves so you miss completely and end up pressing your lips against his.

His eyes widen and you pull away embarrassed, your heart is racing and your lips are tingling from the kiss. You stammer out an apology but Eddie waves it off, you race out the door and into your house.

All the while Eddie is touching his lips, his own heart is racing a mile a minute and all he can think about is that he really wants to kiss you again.

💌🎀💌🎀

[elodieunderglass]

It's not really my business, but honestly it feels like it would be advisable to hire a copyright lawyer. Like I don't feel like you're in it for the money, but it might be gratifying to have the guy milking your idea at least have to formally acknowledge you. I think I'd do it just for the peace of mind to know if I've been "legally" wronged or not. Either way, hope you continue to inspire, and live out a peaceful life.

(In reference to this post about the guy who pretends to have invented “Elder Teletubbies,” specifically how he is now kickstarting DnD minis of them.)

Ha, well, it’s all a little tricky I think. I might, hilariously, post on the r/legaladvice Reddit (even though they’re all cops lol) because the only thing I want here is for him to stop selling my “transformative work,” and ideally to stop pretending he invented it (which might be difficult as he appears to fully believe his work is creatively independent.)

I think if anything, my post counts as protected commentary or a transformative work of BBC’s Teletubbies, and I think it’s stinky to profit on that stuff in general (like I’m 190% okay with buying LotR fanart on stickers ! but I wouldn’t dream of trying to publish a fic with the serial numbers filed off. Why?)

I think ultimately I’m not a grifter, I’m a grownup, and I think it’s several levels of eye roll to sell fanart of a tv show on this level. I would be embarrassed to touch money made on that. I’m too fucking scrupulous and artisanal. I have toyed with a silly original novel for funsies since 2019 but keep saying things like, “oh, people will think this is too similar to something else that already exists” as if a silly original novel I write for fun has to somehow pass a Bar of Originality higher than anything salary-writers aim for.

I’m also pretty anti-intellectual-property myself in that leftist sense where I don’t believe people should be acting as if creative works are, like, oil. Like the resource extraction angle of intellectual property freaks me out, I don’t think getting super high-horse and snotty about Magical Brain Property is entirely compatible with the artisanal temperament I personally got going on here. I am like snufkin about this, simply smoking a pipe and making a flower crown saying “poor fools! Producing works for market, and serving as the guard dogs of the market, lest their work lose value if it becomes more common!” I do not have a high horse. I am not going to post 6900 words about the importance of defending fucking… Mickey Mouse. I buy those lotr stickers on Etsy! I do have a horse, but it’s a pretty low horse.

If it was his own work I would not care about this guy doing this in the least (apart from loftily calling it stinky - but hey, nerds are common and nerds are stinky, it’s not rare) IF he wasn’t STEALING FROM MY ANTI-COMMERCIALISATION DREAM TO DO IT.

That’s the bit that PISSES ME OFF too much to ignore: that and accepting compliments for being original like 😌 yes my twisted mind did this idk lol.

Like if you asked him point blank about the artistic choices he’d be like idk my twisted mind just sees the Teletubbies this way teehee! but if you ask ME why, for example, the adult Teletubbies live in the forest I’ll explain that in 2017 I was at a major life crossroads and this dream was ABOUT that. It was goodbye to my identity as a foreigner from the pine forests, and full steam ahead to settling permanently in the fucking shire (where the baby teletubbies on the bbc show live). It was about going back to work having had my first child, and saying goodbye to my various career dreams for myself (famous scientist! Published author!) as I chose instead, finally, the responsibility of working humbly as a public servant for the actual good of society. It is about witnessing the wild and saying “I am not of it, but it is my job to be its witness and voice.” That’s why the adult Teletubbies are dancing in my native forests while I’m watching them from the English hills. This guy doesn’t know that he just vaguely heard “spooky forest cryptid” and didn’t develop it at all, I do more work than that with FANFICTION in my time off!!!

So it’s really about nebulous stuff and ethics and not something worth paying a lawyer for I think!

But thank you so much for this, I think the thing that gets most perennial about it is the TOTAL GASLIGHTING of the “outside world” of the rest of the internet like, fully believing they invented this, and they DIDNT. They’re so wrong on the internet and they don’t know

[galaxyedging]

Dark!Joel Miller x Innocent f!reader

Warnings: Age gap, reader is 20, Joel is in his 60's. Daddy kink. Dub-con.

Summary: Joel helps you understand some things that you've never read before.

Daddy's Princess

Joel may be strict with his rules, but living with him has given you more freedom than you've even had. You can go outside in the land surrounding your small cabin. Before, you only had a small area between the houses of your little town that you were allowed to walk in. There were no trees, no crunch of leaves under your feet. Not like when you get to walk with Joel. You get to read whatever books Joel can bring you. Before, you were only allowed to read books that weren't banned. You came to Joel at nineteen years old and hadn't seen a curse in print before. Those old rules seem so suffocating now, so you don't mind following Joel's, and after all, they are there to keep you safe. 

When Joel isn't there, you stay inside. When people come calling you hide, when the two of you go out, you stay close. Not many infectioned make it this far. People sure still do, and by the time they get here, they are desperate.

Joel had been gone for two nights. The time alone didn't really bother you. The cabin was safe, and it was nice to be alone after growing up with so many other children. No, not other children, you were a woman now. It's still so easy to forget. 

The book in your hands was keeping you company. It was a romance novel, only the second one you'd ever read. They couple had been on such an adventure. On surviving it, they finally had some time alone. They began to kiss, something you'd always wondered about. The only kisses you ever felt were from your mother, on your chubby cheeks when you were small, but she passed so long ago that the memory has faded. Reading on the man ‘rubs his lover's wet heat, preparing her to take the hard evidence of his arousal.’ The words play over in your head as you try to understand them. A familiar tingle starts between your legs. It’s the same one that comes when you watch Joel chop wood. Or when he puts his hands on you to guide you while out walking.

The door to the cabin swings open below your loft. 

“I'm back, Princess.” Joel always refers to you by your nickname, or some other sweet term of endearment. 

In turn he loves to be called Daddy. He tells you it's because he will always care for you unconditionally. 

“Hi, Daddy.” You try to sound normal as your heart races.

Climbing down from your bedroom you try to seem less flustered than you feel. 

Joel notices immediately. Of course he does, you don't survive into your sixties by being dumb in this world.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling alright?” He shrugs off his backpack and layers before coming closer to take a look at you.

One of the rules is that you don't lie to Daddy. “I was reading something confusing.”

“Well, why do we read it together and try to straighten out that pretty little head?” Joel's hand on your lower back doesn't help the feeling between your legs as he ushers you to the small sofa in what serves as a living room.

As you try to sit comfortably, Joel retrieves a pair of reading glasses from the side table, sitting back he takes the book from you. He notices the pages are damp with sweat. “What kind of book is this?”

“It's a ro-romance.” You gulp.

“I see.” His voice gives nothing away. “What part is confusing?”

Your shaking hand points to the passage and Joel begins to read. “After a period of kissing that seemed timeless as their tongues explored each other's warm mouths, Drake began rubbing his lover's wet heat, preparing her to take the hard evidence of his arousal.” Joel closes the book and places it on the table along with his glasses. “I see. Well, what part is confusing, Darlin’?”

“All of it. The words, the way they make me feel.” You confess.

“How do they make you feel?” Joel leans against the back of the sofa, waiting patiently for your answer.

“There's a tingle between my legs and in my…” you know you need to be honest so you swallow thickly and press on “...my breasts. I get it when I'm with you sometimes, too.”

“Okay.” Joel is completely calm and unphased by your words. “Would you like me to explain it all to you?”

“Yes, please.” You sigh with relief.

“I need you to lift up your skirt and show me where the tingle is.” Joel shifts forward in his seat and begins to roll his sleeves up.

Even though you trust Joel with all your heart a shyness comes over you. Joel sees your hesitation. “It's okay, Princess. Daddy would never hurt you. This is all perfectly normal and natural.”

Nodding your head you shuffle down on the sofa and bring your feet up. Your skirt falls back off your knees allowing you to show Joel where the tingle is.

“Now, I need you to point for me.” Joel is now down on the floor to get a better view you assume.

You do as you are asked. “Good girl. Now press your finger to where the tingle is.” Again you obey. 

As your finger touches the fabric of your panties you find it damp and warm. “Wet heat.” You breathe as the tingle grows stronger.

“That's right, my smart girl. Now rub your finger around until you find a spot that feels real good. Your finger will have to go between your folds a little but that's fine. The spot should be like a little hard bump.”

At first you are concentrating on Joel's words too hard to feel the change in the tingle until “Oh my!” 

Joel was right about it feeling good. 

“That's it, now try rubbing little circles around that spot.” 

Following Joel's instructions your legs begin to shake as the feeling grows more intense until you have to stop.

“Are you alright?” One of Joel's hands rubs your calf as he speaks and a new sensation like a twitch develops in your wet heat.

“Yes. It was just..a lot.” You try to breathe normally.

Joel chucks. “That's alright. You were getting to the best part. Anyway, do you understand what your wet heat is now?” You nod “The clinical term is a vagina but it has lots of names. Some sweet, like flower. Some vulgar, like pussy or cunt. 

“What do you call it?” You peer down at him curiously.

When he stands you're worried that you have offended him. “Well that depends on the ‘evidence of my arousal’.” His hand comes to cup his groin and you notice that the large bulge there is even larger. “Do you know what this is called?”

You shake your head earnestly. You knew that men and women's bodies were different but you didn't know what men had down there. Only that it was bigger. “This is my penis but I call it my cock. It's gotten bigger because I've been tingling too. We call that tingle arousal. It means when your body wants to have sex or needs to orgasm. An orgasm is what was going to happen to you when it started to feel really, really good.”

You sat quietly for a moment trying to process. “So when I get the tingle when you touch me. That means I want to have sex with you? But I'm not ready to be a mother.”

“Oh, Princess. Sex isn't just for makin’ babies. It's for makin’ people feel real good. Just like you were doin’. Now why don't you slip off your panties and carry on. I promise it will be worth it.” So you do as Joel says. He drops to his knees in front of you again. “Oh, you have the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen. She's so wet. Come on now make her drip for me. Keep rubbin’.”

Wanting to make Joel happy, you do. You keep rubbing little circles until your fingers are soaked, your legs tremble, your eyes flicker open and closed and your body feels pleasure it has never known until…”I can't, Daddy. It feels like there is something coming but it won't.”

“Shhh. Alright. Do you want Daddy’s help?” Joel coos.

“Yes, please.” you take his hand with your free one.

“Just remembered, Daddy always knows best. I always keep you safe as long as you do as you are told.”  He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Coming closer, Joel dips his head towards your pussy and you feel something warm and wet hit it. “It's always good to get as wet as possible.” He comments before the pads of two thick fingers press to that spot and begin to rub up and down.

The pleasure is near blinding. “Daddy. I can't. I…please…please stop.”

“It's for your own good. Just breathe.” 

Your whole body tense as you claw at Joel's wrist. 

“No. Please. Stop. STOP!” you cry as the strange sensation builds.

“Shhh. Shhh. Daddy's got you. Just relax. Come on. Come for me. Come for Daddy.” you have no idea what Joel is asking for until it explodes through you.

The tension gives to waves of pleasure. The tingle convulses inside you. The wetness drips down the crack of your ass. You head swims with a euphoria that you have never known. Your pinned in place by the feeling. You mouth open wide in a silent scream.

“That's it, Princess. Oh, look you're all ready for Daddy.” The convulsions of your pussy are restricted as something enters you. “Oh, fuck.” Joel gritted out.

The unknown pressure begins to feel uncomfortable, painful even.

“Joel?” you wince.

“It's alright, Princess. Daddy just has to take his turn. You got to come, now I have to. You don't want me being it pain do you? That's what happens when a man’s cock gets hard and he can't relieve it. Nearly did myself an injury or two tryin’ not to touch myself when you first got here. Especially that first night with your little dress all wet…” The pain increases as Joel pushes what must be his cock further in. “Oh, fuck, Baby.” Joel's groans of pleasure make you bite your lip. You don't want to spoil it for him. “Your little dress all wet and those perky nipples begging to be sucked. I fucked my fist outside the next day. Ugh.” he grunted as he finally stopped pushing forward. The intrusion was painful but there was a tinge of pleasure in there too.

“Daddy? Will this make me come again?” 

“Oh, Princess. If you let me fuck this tight cunt, I will make you come so fucking hard.” Joel never cussed around you. The sound of it eased the pain in your cunt. 

As soon as you nod, Joel's hands grip your hips and he begins to pull you toward him as his hips surge forward. He repeated the motion over and over a few times. You want to be good for him but he's so big.

“Daddy. I'm sorry. I can't take it. Too big.” Tears flow and your voice cracks.

“You can. You're going to lie back and take it until Daddy blows his load.”

“No. I can't.” you begin to push at his chest. Joel simply pins your hands above your head with one of his.

“You can, Princess. I promise.” his lips find your and his tongue pushes yours apart. Another wave of wetness eases the fullness you feel but it's still too much when Joel starts to piston his hips into you.

“Daddy. No. Stop. Please.” shakey pleas tumble from your lips. 

They only seem to spur Joel on. “Is Daddy's cock too big for his Princess’s virgin cunt? You're wet as anything yet I'm still too much for you. Look at you, begging for me to stop. Tell me you want me to stop.”

“I do, Daddy. You're so big. I can't…” you are crying despite the pleasure building. It's all too much.

“Say it. Say ‘stop’. Beg me.” Joel's hips only increase in speed only stopping when he rams up against something inside you that takes your breath away.

“Stop, Daddy. Please.” you managed to get out.

“Oh, shit. Fuck. Daddy doesn't have to. He could fill this cunt if he wanted. I'm right there. Right up against your cervix. I could breed you. I could keep you here, barefoot, pregnant and just keep milking my cock with this cunt whenever I wanted. You couldn't do a damn thing to stop me. Come on, Princess, Daddy's close. Come for me.”

With all of Joel's talking you hadn't realised how much the pain had shifted to pleasure. This time when Joel strokes you the screams aren't silent. “Oh, God! Oh, Joel! Joel!”

“That's it. Perfect little cunt sucking me in and working me close. You dirty little whore. Fuck!”

Before you can come down from your high, Joel was on his feet. One hand was wrapped around his cock. Your eyes were transfixed. You weren't sure what you expected it to look like but it made you clench. His other hand pulled down your dress to expose your breasts. 

“Perfect tits, too. They'd look even better painted.” Joel's hand moves on his huge cock lightening fast until white fluid shot from in and landed on your breasts. His hand is still moving as his drops to his knees to lick the substance off. Even after it's gone he keeps on licking then sucking your nipples. The tingle builds then breaks when Joel pumps two thick fingers in and out of where his cock just was.

“Joel!” you scream as a final burst of pleasure leaves you boneless and breathless.

Joel’s sturdy weight rests against your chest. “Now, Princess, why don't we read more of your book and see if you need anything else explainin’?”

[szynkaaa]

This is my first time asking but I'm going to ask anyway (and English is not my native language) I'm curious to know how your OC and the destined one met (I mean how was their first interaction)

hi hi! thank you so much for your ask, this is the first time I have received one about my OC <3

probably something like this (read right-to-left)

Gonna use this chance to talk a bit more about my AU lol

Wrote in a separate post here that Oz has met Sun Wukong before when she was a child and he was buried under the mountain.

So when she got whisked back into fantasy ancient China, she landed where Yuan Shoucheng aka Gourd Grandpa (the old man carrying a big gourd on his back) was already waiting there for her. He foresaw her arriva. The vague gist of my AU is that the the reason why this Destined One succeeds in retrieving all artifacts and becomes SWK is because he is also sort of the manifestation of that childish promise 5-years-old Oz made that she will save SWK one day (from under the mountain but clearly that didn't happen lol). But also since her ancestor is from this world, her descendants were fated to return back here one day.

Gourd grandpa updates her on her ancestors and their roles in the Celestial Court and the shitstorm that happened that ultimately let to the clan being massacred and one person escaping to "our" world, where magic doesn't exist and all those people are just characters from myths and stories. But also her ancestor isn't the only person that traversed through the two worlds - over the centuries more have come and gone. This is also why people in her world have those myths and deities. In my AU Wu Cheng'en also escaped from fantasy ancient China into her world and then wrote Journey to the West. He took artistic liberty to change some things for his novel, hence some things in BMW are different than in JTTW (like the ZBJ and violet spider love story or how SWK had a romance with White Bone Demon).

Anywayyy, Oz task on the adventure is to document their journey together, and she is responsible for using the magical gourd to suck in the will of the defeated bosses in.

And 2-3 days later the Destined One shows up. I don't think Oz was very happy about leaving gourd grandpa and join the Destined One on his travel, but if he is her best chance to find a way back home to see Taylor Swift live, then she will do it.

The Destined One is indifferent to mildly annoyed about this, but doesn't protest too much, as long as she doesn't slow him down yadda yadda. I do think that DO did feel some sort of special connection to her, because he is sort of a manifestation of that promise. it doesn't really take long for him to get used to her and also to care for her. One of Sun Wukong's massive core trait is that he cares so much for his loved ones and does not hesitate to do the impossible for them, and I like to imagine that even though SWK senses have been split into 6 different parts, the caring part stayed with each Destined One reincarnation.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You seem like an incredibly well read person, plus someone with a lot of insight into intimacy because of your work. So, in light of your romance book reviews, which are an absolute highlight on your patreon, do you have any insight into what is needed/suggested for a good romance novel?

g o d this is so fucking hard and also really fun to chew on. I want to preface this by saying this is ENTIRELY subjective and based completely on what I *PERSONALLY* find that I enjoy in a romance. this isn't, like, an objective guide on how to write a romance that doesn't suck. that doesn't exist because people like different things, and I'm speaking from one perspective.

also I should say that my preferred flavor of romance novel is solidly contemporary. I haven't read many historicals, certainly not enough to opine well on them, I don't do those mafia dark romances or whatever the fuck, and I've barely dabbled at all in any kind of fantasy romance, whether they're full high fantasy or witchy urban fantasy stories. (although I'm about to do one of the latter next month, you can vote for a book on my patreon rn!)

having gotten all of those caveats out of the way, here's some shit I like and dislike:

there are exceptions to this but broadly, I prefer a POV for everyone involved in the relationship. to me a romance where we're only seeing events from the POV of one member of the relationship automatically makes it seem like one person matters more in a dynamic where everyone should be of equal importance. also, god, if the plot's really going to hinge on not knowing what's going on in one partner's head suggests that miscommunication is going to be a pretty critical part of the plot, and I hate that shit. TALK TO EACH OTHER. I'LL KILL YOU.

on that note, there needs to be an actual compelling reason why the characters can't be together, okay? the #1 driving tension of every romance is "why the fuck can't they be together yet" and you BETTER have a good answer. whether it's interpersonal or external forces, if there's a very easy solution to what's keeping them apart then your characters look dumb and I'm bored. one of the most frustrating romances I've ever read involved two characters who were mutually attracted to each from the JUMP, who refused to act on it because they were coworkers (neither of them in any position of authority of the other, nothing unprofessional or inappropriate about it) and they were "only" living in the same state for A YEAR. A FULL YEAR !!! shut up. get a grip and kiss each other.

now, having said that: whatever your bullshit reason is for these two characters to be interacting with each other, you need to COMMIT to that shit so hard that I, the reader, will feel silly for even questioning the logic. the worst offender I've ever seen on this front is D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding, which pulls its protagonists together via a reality TV competition and then just... promptly loses any interest in really dealing with the actual realities of being filmed 24/7? it's insanely distracting how little the book engages with its central hook, and was a huge point deduction for me. whereas you have, like, The Bride Test, a book with a premise that skirts dangerously close to a little bit of human trafficking but embraces the whole premise so wholeheartedly that you completely forget about the potentially horrific elements in there. who cares that Esme was bribed here with the promise of a green card if she seduces a man she's never met? there's whimsy happening! we've moved on! it's literally fine and she's in no danger except the danger of a BROKEN HEART.

this one is going to seem SO obvious but like. I need them to be actually like each other. I'm not saying they can't be mutually bitchy while they grow to like each other or anything, they don't have to always be NICE to each other, but there are so many M/F romances where the dude is just flat out fucking MEAN and condescending to the girl until he decides he wants to fuck her. and sometimes even after that! stop it! after a certain point I don't want her to fuck him I want her to run him over a car!!!! there's suuuuch a line between "guy I butt heads and exchange banter with but could fuck if we just got to know each other" and "man who hates me and is for real fucking bullying me."

"kisses only," "doors closed," whatever term they use for a romance novel without any sex scenes on page, I don't like it. listen: I know that they're not everybody's cup of tea, and I FULLY recognize that a lot of romance novel sex scenes are unfathomably cringe. and yet, I need them. partly because they're funny, but also because if this book wants me to be invested in the developing relationship between two adults who are supposed to be WILDLY sexually attracted to each other, then I want to see the damn sex. no matter how many bad similes or unfortunate adjectives it entails. and if you're not going to show me the sex, don't you dare have the characters gushing about how great it is. I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. (I'm looking at you, Sorry, Bro.)

related: there's this thing that I call "Horny Wolf Syndrome," which is derived from this tweet:

initially I used it to refer to when previously sweet-tempered male romance protags inexplicably started talking like horny wovles during sex scenes - "LET ME SEE YOUR PRETTY CUNT ON MY COCK" and the like - but now I more generally use it to refer to scenarios in which characters of any gender completely dispense with their established personality while they fuck in order to fulfill a more broadly appealing, one-size-fits-all sexual fantasy. I hate that shit; if your characters act like completely unrecognizable people during sex, you didn't write very strong characters. one of my favorite things about writing sex scenes is that it's so SO interesting to see how their the characters' personal quirks translate into a setting that's very different from most other contexts, and it's deeply disappointing when authors take the easy route in favor of some pornhub dialogue.

one of the things that actually won my most recent read, Raiders of the Lost Heart, a HUGE amount of points with me was how frank the female lead was about initiating sex for the first time. it was completely in character for her and felt really different than any other book I've read, and honestly? it was a breath of fresh air.

[dualityvn]

A little bit off topic from recent events, but Keith looks so beautiful.

Although the last post wasn't exactly happy or back to normal yet but I just want to take time to appreciate our sweetheart a little.

Keith looks like an angel. He always does. That was my first thought when I saw him in the flower shop, when he stood in my kitchen wearing Tenerbis's clothes(even if he doesn't like them really he still looked gorgeous), when he took me to dinner and rambled about flower language(I really find it interesting and sweet how he knows so much), and especially on that picnic in the forest where there was no one else(besides Tenten of course [cause I picked that option]). And when he was talking about that flower that's center resembles a bee's mate to attract them, only able to get pollinated if it does a good enough job I honestly found it a sad but deeply beautiful metaphor to himself or rather how he views himself.

He looked beautiful when he got a slightly new look, he looked beautiful with pink hair and honestly he looks beautiful with every emotion on display on his face. I find him stunning with a bright smile and those shining blue eyes, but I also find him breath taking even when he's angry or upset, when just his gaze could pierce trough my soul.

In the last arts he truly looked like an angry/hurt angel who slightly calmed down after destroying worlds.

And this is not specifically about his looks only. I know the words I used are usually to describe one's physical beauty but for Keith it's like he has that beauty in his soul, like even if his appearance changed 180° he would still be beautiful because it would be him.

(a little note to the dear creator, I am very sorry if I got something incorrect but I am writing this from plain memory and feeling, also english is not my first language. I have to admire the fact how you're handling this "drama" roleplay, you write every response with such care and feeling that at times I tend to forget that it is only roleplay and I get a tad concerned for Keith(or Tenebris when it was his case). It's truly amazing how much effort you put into the blog and keeping people updated on the progress too. I truly believe you made 2 of the most interesting and loveable characters(to me for sure did), perhaps in the whole visual novel industry too. This little ramble was just made because these past posts has really gave me a strong feeling towards Keith and I wanted to put it into words, I hope you don't mind.)

- C🌸

AAaa, thank you so much, C. You're way too kind. And don't worry, you didn't get anything wrong I don't think!

"F-flattery isn't going to get me to act nice again!" - Keith

[kazunarisworld]

Lift it up~

Warning: Smut, a little bit of corruption kink if you squint, a dash of voyeurism ig 👀, wrio being a menace, dirty talk, filthy, arranged marriage, fingering.

Pairing: Wriothesley x Afab!reader

Description: Wriothesley catches you reading something scandalous.

Wriothesley never thought he would settle down and get married but somehow life had a funny way of surprising people. Look at life bringing you to him. You were so cute. So innocently fiesty.

It was an arranged marriage. He didn't even really cared much about it until he saw you. You wore the cutest dresses. You would run your sweet little mouth at him with no care. The audacity.

But he found you so cute. It made him want to push you down, swallow your complains and show you your place. Until all you knew was to say his name. All pliant under him.

The wedding was rushed but he made sure everything was to your liking. His estate even going through a renovation before the wedding. He wanted to make you feel comfortable, make you put your guard down... Until he could take you the way he wanted.

And now he had you. Not in an expected way but there you were. Right where he wanted. He has you pinned against the wall. Your face red as you try to defend yourself.

He had caught you. Caught you reading such scandalous novel in his library. You were just asking to be caught at that point. "Who knew my wife was such a naughty little thing? Reading such books.." He trails off looking down at you. He was towering above you. Both his hands against wall, caging your body.

Your hands holding onto your skirt tightly. The embarassment eating you alive. You wished the floor would open up and eat you. "It is nothing! Everyone reads it. It is not only me." You argued helplessly. You weren't lying. Those novels were a hit among the commoners and you had honestly learned about it from a maid. You had bought it with a red face, far too curious for your own good.

Wriothesley chuckles. "What do you like about those books hmm? Does it make you want to experience such pelasure~." He said using one of his hand to pull your chin up.

"Does it make you squirm in your seat? All needy and wet." He says, his voice low. His voice and tone makes your body heat up even more. You don't know if it was because of embarassment or the fact that you feel yourself get more wet than you already were reading the book.

It was not like your husband wasn't attractive after all. He was tall. Strong. Handsome. Not to mention his status in the society. You had everything other women would kill to have. A husband like him. Power. Money. Status. And in your part, it would have been an absolute lie if you said your husband hasn't left you needy and horny.

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't touched yourself to his thoughts~

Wriothesley looks at you with a smug look. He scans you from head to toe licking his lips and he says something that makes your heartbeat stutter.

"Lift your dress up sweetheart."

You look at him dumbfounded. A little surprised at his words. "W-What?" You asked.

"I said lift your dress up." He repeats and you are stuck wondering if he really wants you to do it or whether he was just teasing you. He sighs as he grabs your skirt. "I guess my little wife doesn't understand my words." He says as he pulls up the front of your dress, up to your waist. "Lift it up." He says.

With a trembling hand you do as you are told. Holding the front of your skirt up. Exposing your legs and lower region. Only your undergarment covering your womanhood which was dripping by now.

He grins as he looks at you, humming in satisfaction. "Aren't you just cute?" He says dragging one of his hand up your thigh, leaning him body close to you.

"Always wearing your cute dresses, prancing around me, running your mouth and now... Reading such scandalous novels~ What would others say if they knew what kind of books the prim and proper lady Y/N reads in her husband's library? How the prim and proper Y/N gets all wet just because of a book?" He taunts.

His fingers run across your clothed sex making you shiver, some of your wetness getting on his fingers as it seeped through the thin fabric of your panties.

"Do you like it Y/N? Do you want me to touch you? Hmm did I leave my little wife too depraved that she felt the need to read such books?" He asks, his tone full of pride.

"Answer me love." His voice is stern making you whine when his hand pushes your panties aside, his finger running down your wet fold.

"W-Wrio not here! Please someone will come." You begged, your face red. You wanted him to stop but also at the same time you wanted him to carry on. You wanted his fingers to slip inside.

He chuckles as he presses a finger inside you making you let out a broken moan. "Don't worry love. No one will come in. They should know to leave us alone when we are together." He said.

'But you can't be sure of that!' You want to argue but you can't even say anything except moan when he slips his finger inside you. Your wetness coating his finger.

"So wet~ Come on sing for me sweetheart." He cooes as he adds another finger curling them up just right. Your knees shake and your thighs tremble as he fucks you his fingers.

You helplessly grab onto his shoulder with one of your hand whining, another hand still holding your dress up. His fingers so long and thich reaching just the right place. Places your small and inexperienced hands couldn't.

Your walls clamp down around his fingers as you moan. Letting go of any shame you felt. His palm grazing your clit, sensitive and puffy, whenever he moves his fingers.

"There you go. Such a little needy wife I have. You have been wanting this haven't you?" He teases as moves his fingers in a perfect rhythm. The pleasure and sensitivity you feel making you clench your thighs around his hand.

"Oh no no love. You have you keep them open. How can I please you if you don't do that?"

Trembling, you unclench your thighs making him smirk. Your slick running down your thighs and some of it dripping down his hand from his fingers.

"Cum for me sweetheart. Let go. Show me how good I am making you feel." He says in a low voice.

When you do cum, you are stumbling towards him. Feeling as if your world came crashing down in such a pleasurable way with his fingers curling up inside you just the way you like it.

He smiles satisfied as he holds you up with his large arms. Helping you stand on your feet as he pulls his fingers out. A whine escaping your mouth at how empty you suddenly feel.

You watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and licking it, his eyes looking straight at you as he did so. It made your face go even redder. How could he be so... so ... so dirty.

"You taste good sweetheart. Just as I expected." He smirks as he 'fixes' your dress slightly.

"Thanks for the treat my dear wife." He says as he walks away with a wink, leaving you standing there, your body slightly trembling.

For a minute you wonder if everything that happened up until now was just a daydream you conjured up. But the slick that drips down your thighs and the way your cunt aches, still feeling the way his fingers had curled inside you was evidence that what actually happened had happened.

[nasty-bog-boy]

it's just one of those days when it's raining and I really have to talk about Anne Elliot in Persuasion and how much i love this woman with every single fibre of my being.

i just want us to have heroines like Anne Elliot. in my opinion she's one of the best heroines of English literature, especially for when you're a bit older and wiser and you have experienced the unfairness and heartbreak of life.

Anne is miserable in many ways. she's stuck in a life she doesn't want, lacks agency in her life and was persuaded to not only turn down the love of her life but also a good man that could've taken her away from this. Charles Musgrove may not be captain Wentworth but he's a decent man with a family who cares for her and had she married him Anne would at least have a home and independence.

yet despite this she doesn't resent Lady Russell and continues to count her as a close friend. she understands that Lady Russell was genuinely acting out of concern for Anne but is also a flawed person who carried her own predjucides into her judgements of that men.

instead of being witty or confident or optimistic Anne's virtues are patience, kindness and forgiveness. she isn't a doormat but she is a person and does get worn down by the circumstances of her life. she keeps her head in a crisis and looks out for the wellbeing of her friends. she actively listens to people and cares for others. her virtues are all things we can cultivate within ourselves if we try.

Anne doesn't carry her heartbreak with melodramatic, teenage angst like Marianne Dashwood. she mourns what she's lost but understands that it was the result of her own actions and she must accept that. i think this is a feeling readers can understand when we get older. Anne has loved and lost in a way that can related to but she doesn't allow it to corrupt her character.

having romantic heroines that perhaps don't light up a room with their beauty or win heart with their charisma but instead become endeared to both other characters and the reader through their patience and kindness just warms my heart. i think we should try to be more like Anne in our lives. despite the sadness she's living in at the start of the novel her life ends happily, because her kindness and care for others eventually becomes noticed, not just by a man but also by herself as she finally understands her value.

idk i just have a lot of feelings about Persuasion and i could talk about it for days

[howtofightwrite]

Now you got me thinking...I've been thinking about writing a fic where the (in-universe) desensitization of violence for the main characters is a running theme. My main issue, however, is managing the violence within said narrative because, as you've said before, violence has diminishing returns. While I don't want it to be a gorefest from start to finish, I do want part of the horror to be having to engage in it, no matter what steps are taken to avoid it. If I'm not careful, I could end up with a weaker story for all the violence in it. What could I do to maintain this theme without it losing its impact due to these diminishing returns?

So, there's two different things going on here, and ironically, it's the same term, and mostly the same process.

When I'm talking about your audience becoming desensitized to violence, it's more that they become acclimated to the degree of violence you're comfortable with exposing them to. Again, “diminishing returns,” because as you expose them to more violence, they become more acclimated to that violence, and the shock value will subside. Similarly, the ability to build tension on the threat of violence occurring falls off when you're willing to engage in violence, but that doesn't mean you can't build tension, just that you need to be a little more careful about establishing those stakes.

Also, when most people write violence, they tend to establish implicit boundaries. It may be that only certain characters engage in violence. It may that certain areas are exempted from violence. At very mechanical abstraction, with some writers, you can tell when they've introduced a location that is exempt from violence. Even if you're getting into diminishing returns, violating these kinds of boundaries can keep the violence fresher than you'd expect. The formula of slasher films put a lot of effort into maintaining shock value by creating misleading boundaries that you'll pick up on and then violating them in new and novel ways.

Outside of some genuinely stomach churning violence, you're not likely to permanently move the needle for your readers. You're not actually desensitizing them to violence; just your willingness to depict violence.

I feel like I need to make a clarification: Too much violence doesn't mean the story will be bad. Normally, I offer advice with the assumption that you'll want to manage and maintain as much shock value as you can from your violence. However, that's not the only valid approach. That said, too much violence can cause your readers to disconnect from the work, so that is a legitimate consideration. Also, this doesn't mean the story loses impact. Unless the violence is the story, which is a somewhat weird edge case, violence won't necessarily reduce the impact of the story as a whole.

The example of slasher films, earlier, really does illustrate what I mean when I'm saying that lots of violence (even gratuitous violence) isn't going to necessarily mean that a story will be bad. (Though, this could spiral into a much deeper argument about the artistic merits of that genre.) To some extent, your choice of genre already starts to prepare the audience for a more violent experience. You're preemptively trading shock value for a higher baseline.

The second thing is your character being desensitized to violence. While there is something to be said for getting your audience into your character's head space to the point that they accept it as their own, doing that with desensitization to violence is extraordinarily difficult. (And, really, it's a tricky route to go in general. In most cases, the audience will simply assign whatever dissatisfaction they have onto you or the work, rather than realizing you were being clever.)

So, how do you show someone is desensitized to violence, without trying to simultaneously traumatize your audience? You show the consequences of that desensitization. This can show up in a character's sense of humor, their overall outlook. They may be more clinical about violence, more casual about its consequences (at least, superficially.) They might have an incredibly dark sense of humor, which might not come up most of the time.

In a larger context, a character who has been desensitized to violence may come across as basically normal, outside of a narrow band where certain concepts don't bother them. This is especially true with a specific brand of military humor, where violence has been rendered mundane for the individual, and the people they interact with on a regular basis.

Now, audience desensitization to violence can create a very weird situation. Where an absence of violence is more unsettling. Not because they're worried about what could happen, but because they're waiting for it all hell to break loose. It's one thing to simply call it, “tension,” but it is a very distinct kind of anxiety you can invoke, if you're careful. In the opening of a story, when the genre is clearly established, I've seen this compared to the ratchets on a roller coaster's first ascent. Everyone knows what they're here for, everyone's here for the ride, click, click... and then the lights go out, and the screaming starts.

I'm trying to make it sound easy, but violence is one of the more challenging things to write. That doesn't mean it's impossible, and you don't need to sit down and carefully sketch out every detail before you get going. The biggest thing to be careful of are that you don't want to overuse it, but you have a lot of flexibility to tell the story you want with the amount of violence you need to communicate that story.

Though, it might take a few tries until you get a tone you're happy with.

-Starke

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[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! CEO! Arranged! Ex-husand x AFAB! Ex-wife! Reader

Hold your horses, we're going to wattpad territory here.

I went back to reading the cliche runaway wife or stranger with them being pregnant from their one night stand with a CEO and I must say, it's making me really nostalgic.

As a small gift for myself, I'm using the name of my CEO protagonist on the novel I wrote, and his background... Actually, the whole story for this one will be just my novel's. Self plagiarism, if you will lol. There are quite the big alterations, but that's for me to know, and for you to skim over.

So, let's unlock a hidden memory especially for previous wattpad girlies, shall we?

Pause though, this is my 3rd pregnancy fic. I hate myself.

Yandere! CEO name: Iñigo Dragonov

"Father, I seriously do not need your input in my marriage!"

"You will marry the Smith's daughter and that's final!"

"But why?! I'm content with living by myself and flourishing the company! I do not need a wife!"

"How about a husband then?"

"No wives, no husbands, no spouses!"

Allastor frowned. He knew that his son is not one for romance, but he dated a handful of people, also slept around sometimes. But for the sake of his son, who is workaholic to the point he's forgetting about his health, he needs someone who would be there for him.

"Son, if you don't marry the Smith's daughter, i'm afraid I have to get back the company."

Iñigo clenched his teeth. His jaw ticking as he looked at his father with wide, feral eyes.

"You won't do that. You already gave the company to me!"

"Yes, but I will take the company back. And you know I can pull strings like no other."

That's how Iñigo married you, the Smith's daughter.

Dragonov group of Companies. Just the name itself sent shivers down the spines of aspiring and even well off businesses. They're ruthless, and dominated almost every possible market. Textile, food industry, hotels, even schools. Name it, and they'll have it.

So, with the Smith Corp being the leading company in the Fashion industry, and the Dragonov looking to integrate themselves in Fashion and not just textile, Allastor decided to have this arrangement. It's like killing two birds with one stone.

Inigo Dragonov. The perfect man and the perfect bachelor. Rich, handsome, reliable, he's someone who's a bonafide genius when it comes to business. Almost his every investment have such huge profits, and never a lost.

So why was he so adamant about marrying when it's a good strategy in order to get into fashion?

He has always thought of marriage as something so restraining. Something that weighs such a workaholic like him down. He never even thought of marrying unless his father and mother mentions it.

So when his eyes laid on you, he sneered in his heart.

He doesn't want you at all.

He's always finding faults in you.

"Why do you look so frumpy? I thought your company focuses on fashion?"

"Stand up straight. Your slouching is unsightly."

"Will you get out of my sight? Don't you have any work to do? Don't be lazy."

His words never, ever dripped of affection, only vile words of nitpicking came out.

You were tired of it. Sick and tired.

Yet you did your best to always serve your husband in all aspects. Affection, taking care of him, even intimacy. After all, he's still the one to put food on your plate. Not just any food also, but luxurious ones.

But the empty feeling on your heart persisted. You don't want this at all.

So with a heavy heart, you decided to divorce him.

As you predicted, he didn't care. He signed it, and you left the chateau.

But as Iñigo relished in the fact that he's now a single man once more and can focus on his work, you knew something he didn't.

You touched your womb.

"I'm going to take care of you myself, baby." You whispered to the unborn child on your stomach.

Iñigo clocked out of his office and sighed, feeling the tiredness cloak his body.

He felt empty. Really empty.

At first, he felt such a deep satisfaction that he can finish the job easier without you around.

Every time he comes home, nobody will pester him to eat, to take care of himself.

Nobody nosey to ask him about his day, nobody to annoy him by kissing him on the cheek...

Something invisible gripped his heart as he groaned and took off his suit jacket.

"Tedious."

He slowly walked towards the dining room and sat down at the head of the table. He started eating his dinner, feeling the emptiness reside the giant mansion.

Was his chateau always this big?

He looked over to the seat to his left where you usually sat down.

He can see the faint image of you in his memories, talking about your day and job, that he painfully ignored.

He remembered how your lips would always twitch as it fought back a frown from his lack of response.

He would watch you go silent and finish your meal quickly, before waiting for him to finish so that you could bring the plates back to the kitchen.

He would remember your tired sighs and fervent glances at him.

He went upstairs, wanting to take a shower.

The room you shared with him was now devoid of your personal touch, just leaving with a dark and modern aesthetic that looked like it was from a display in a furniture shop. It was professional, too professional.

He looked over where your vanity was once was. Now there's just an armchair and a lamp that he never really used.

He got to the bathroom and what was once filled with your bathroom essentials. Now, it was just his shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush and paste, and other basic needs tucked away.

And as he went under the shower, tears started to leak from his eyes, regret gnawing at his heart.

He never realized how much he loved you.

He never realized that the reason why he was so critical of you was that he was trying to distance himself from you.

He never realized that your presence was a constant peace in his fast paced life, and that you were a part of his routine.

And now that you're gone...

He gripped his wrist, a bruise forming.

And that was his daily routine a year after your divorce.

And now, two years later, he was still the same.

On the outside, he looked fine and dandy, but deep inside, he's only a broken husk of a man that he never dared to repair.

He thinks he deserved this as punishment.

But then, in those years, he felt that he needed you to come back.

Yes, he's punishing himself, but he needed you still.

He misses your touch,

Your warmth,

Your care.

Your... Love?

Did you love him?

Or is it out of responsibly?

Bah, he doesn't care.

He loves you, and that was enough.

A knock came from the door and his CFO, and his best friend, Oliver, got inside.

"Here you have it. This week's report of activities of Miss Smith--"

"Mrs. Dragonov."

Oliver sighed.

"yes, Mrs. Dragonov, this is the week's report of Mrs. Dragonov."

Iñigo nodded in satisfaction and waved Oliver goodbye.

He opened the enveloped and his eyes widened. You were back from New Zealand. This was great news! He could talk to you. Maybe coax you into coming back.

Iñigo grabbed his key and opened a door at the back of his office and smiled at the inside. Inside was a perfect replica of your old office when you were still married to him. The only difference is that wall to wall was plastered of your face, taken by his private investigators. On the vanity, which was once in his room, have a picture of you, and your twins with him.

He smirked lazily, sitting down on the chair as he kissed your face on the picture frame.

His stormy dark eyes were bent a bit, his gaze filled with so much longing and regret.

"I'll take back what's mine." He whispered.

"and I'll do everything and use everything at my disposal to get you back." Iñigo declared, looking at his children.

"And I mean everything."

"We need to do this."

"Tsk. Why would I? I'm perfectly capable of myself."

"We both can't deny the fact that they need me. You need me."

".... Okay."

" But in one condition."

"What is it?"

"You need to marry me."

You blinked, not getting this absurd situation at all. Marriage again? But why?

Seeing your confused face, Iñigo grabbed your hand gently and squeezed them.

"Sweetheart, you don't want our children to grow up ridiculed, right? What would the people say if they saw our children with no father?" Iñigo started to whisper, coaxing you into seeing his perspective. "I am willing to provide the support you need."

You shook your head.

"But I can provide that myself. I am rich also, so that support means nothing."

Iñigo gritted his teeth and held you tightly once more.

"What will an incomplete family do to our children? Won't they question my absence? Besides, a father is a crucial role one must be filled no matter what. And I'm fully intending to be present at all." He coaxed you, whispering words of promises he wants to fulfil. "There are studies out there that an incomplete family slows down children's development."

He continued to try and let you see his perspective.

"With my influence, nobody can touch you and the children. I promise, I won't be an asshole again and ridicule you. I am so sorry for saying those things." Iñigo whispered as tears filled his eyes. "I regretted all of those. Every single day since you left, I felt like a husk, I know something was wrong, and that I was that something. I hurt someone so precious to me."

Why would he need to dirty his hands when his words and acting skills were enough to persuade you?

Iñigo knelt down, hugging your waist, begging, groveling for you to come back.

And when he saw your resolve crack in front of him, he hid his smirk as he continued to sob in front of you.

His words were working.

Besides, he knows the children were your soft spot.

He was thankful for the existence of your children. If not, he'll probably resort to... Extreme ways just to get you back.

Maybe like, making your company bankrupt with him the only lifeline left.

But now, he held your waist tightly, listening to your words as you gave up trying to fight his logic.

You were his.

And you will continue to be his,

Until death do you part.