#and im having writers block

[medullamindset]

Guys ask me questions or something plsplspls :(

[onionninjasstuff]

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[cyber333angel]

CAR S*X WITH RAFE <3

you were currently at the country club with your boyfriend rafe, talking and laughing with the people around you. although, today you were a little hyper, shouting across the bar and stumbling across the floor. rafe observed your behavior, waiting for the right time of when you would do just a little too much, planning on taking you home and forcing you to sleep off the energy. he lost his patience when you started getting a little tipsy, knocked the food out of servers hand and ate someone else’s food by accident.

he was a little agitated from your actions seeing as he was actually having a fun time with his friends but he knew you needed to calm down. he finds you talking with your girlfriends and pulls you by the arm. “come with me.” your confused but you trust him as he leads you out the club. “mm rafey are we going home? but I was having fun and I really didn’t mean to knock the food out their hand I just-“ you go on apologizing for your mistakes that you honestly didn’t mean to make but he just flashes you a smile. “s’alright kid we just need to talk for a bit.” you nod, happy that he isn’t upset with you, as he opens the backseat door.

next thing you know your bouncing on his lap, your ass clapping off his thighs as the car is filled with moans and huffs. “feels so’good daddy! oh g-god..” his hands creep down your ass with a firm grip, leading you up and down his cock. “you just needed daddy’s dick huh? wanted all that energy fucked outta you..” nodding frantically you moan, “s’deep rafey! f-feel it..” your pussy flutters around him and you squirm around his thighs. “where do you feel it sweetheart hm? show me how deep I am.” you fumble your hands around your tummy and press on your lower waist, gasping. “h-here..” he coos at you, “t’aw does it hurt baby?” too entranced by how good you feel as you slam your cunt onto his dick, you don’t answer. rafe grips your ass and slams you down roughly on his cock suddenly, making you startle and you gasp, “you answer when i talk to you alright? daddy making you feel good?”

“y-yes m’sorryy..can i cum now daddy? m’gonna make a mess!” he pretends to think it over for a moment and lets you cum from all the pleasured whining, “sure pretty, go on an’make a mess for me.” as he said that your body shook, his fast pace making you cream all over his cock. taking his thumb, he rubs your clit a little action just to tire you out from the stimulation. he watches you with half lidded eyes as you twitch and squirm. rafe being at his limit, pushes a few extra thrust into you letting him release his warm liquid deep into you. you whimper into his shoulder and clench around his length, and rafe sighs into yours catching his breath.

“you tired now baby? we can go back and enjoy the party quietly without being hyper right?” you nod slowly, still a little disoriented from the orgasm. “good girl, let’s get you cleaned up.” he slides you off his cock making you shiver from the great loss, and hooks your panties back to cover your soaked pussy, carful to keep you full of his cum for when you arrive home later. heading back to the country club your sleepy, letting rafe lead the way and find his friends. he pulls up a stool by the bar and sits, letting you climb up and sit on his lap. you lay your head on his shoulder and fall into a light slumber until he was ready to go back home.

[enemui]

If I was Cait, I would've simply hauled Vi to a private room with a bed, urgency and desperation and yearning be damned. I could be a privileged piece of shit with a history of violence against the impoverished innocents, but I'd still draw the line at having my first intimate encounter with my girlfriend, who was in prison since she was a kid (and I know this cause I was the one who bailed her out, even if it was for my own benefit), in a fucking jail cell (that her sister was locked in less than an hour ago!!!).

[boom-bada-boom]

of the old religion

there are consequences to being a creature of magic, of the old religion, of power and energy given form.

merlin is not human, no matter what he thinks. the body he has is just a second skin, a coat over the tumultuous magic beneath, so that it had shape, form. he looks human, he thinks human, he feels human. but he is not truly human.

it’s why shapeshifting spells work so well upon him. he’s not changing himself, just the look of the skin he’s wearing. the magic beneath has no true form, and thus cannot be changed when it is everything everywhere all at once.

(the magic that makes merlin is the magic that makes the world, so it has no shape and to look upon it with mortal eyes would be a headache inducing, nauseating ever-shifting thing, that moves through different features of different magical beings like the water of a lake rippling.)

OR

someone with a deep connection to the old religion can see that emrys is no true human. just a creature of magic wearing a human skin, a shapeshifter that refuses to show its true form. (because people say emrys is magic, but no one truly understands the roiling thing living and breathing inside his skin. so obviously there has to be a true form of emrys underneath the image of merlin.)

so they decide to rip that human skin off. force the shape beneath to show itself. tear away the visage of merlin to leave behind only emrys, the creature that will bring magic back to the land or so help them.

it takes a lot of energy and power, and the use of ancient artifacts of the old religion that have been slowly gathering magic for centuries. but they manage it, they bind the human skin to an object, and tear the object away, to leave behind only emrys.

…

except emrys is not made for mortal eyes. especially not the eyes of someone who had hurt them and tore away their shape, their form. (because emrys, as a creature of magic, is still heartbreakingly young. a child, really. maybe that’s why merlin is still so wide-eyed all the time. still young at heart, even as his body looks older.)

so they look upon emrys and burn.

and emrys, lost and confused and hurt and not understanding— where is their body why do they hurt what is wrong with them they are constantly changing shapes and cannot control it and theyre so scared— flees to the only thing they know for sure. and behind them, amongst the mess of ash and scorched earth that once was alive, the object holding their skin lies abandoned, forgotten.

OR

arthur finds the embodiment of magic huddled up against his bedroom window. he doesn’t recognize it immediately as such, but it glows golden and cannot seem to stop subtlety changing shape and growing features that were not there before while losing others. and really, he picks up on the fact eventually.

to reiterate, arthur pendragon, son of the magic-hating king, a young man who had not yet decided if he would hate it the same, has the embodiment of magic hiding outside his window.

he shouldn’t open it. shouldn’t let the pathetic, forcing-itself-to-be-small thing inside.

it howls and cries without words, a sad and fearful air pressing down on him, begging begging helphelphelphelpsomethingswrongsomethingswrongtheytookawaymybodyarthurarthurarthurhelphelphelphelphe—

arthur opens the window.

as the magic flies in, it takes a more solid, in the loosest form of the word, form, dragon-like and small. young. it hides in the crook of his neck, tucks its head in close and shivers.

arthur feels almost like he has let in a frightened bird, it is so small and fluttery.

merlin’s gone missing and there is something small and magical and highly illegal hiding against the small hollow between his neck and shoulders.

he leaves it there.

OR

arthur holds a power he does not quite understand in his hands. he knows it is greater than its form, can feel the pressing weight of something that belies the tiny body.

he knows it is magic. perhaps that is all he really needs to know.

and then he does something that feels exceedingly foolish.

“i’m looking for merlin, my… manservant,” he begins, and the golden thing ripples like a lake in the wind, “can you find where he was taken?”

at least seven eyes blink into existence upon the roiling magical creature, all of them looking up at arthur. another blink, and then they vanish. in their place, wings sprout, some of them draconian in shape, others more bird-like and feathery.

a tail, tiny and yet impossibly strong, wraps around his wrist, and the thing takes flight, pulling him along.

the knights startle, when arthur appears, being seemingly dragged behind a creature no bigger than a songbird, and so breathtakingly magical in spite of it.

“well?” arthur asks, acerbic. “prepare your steeds. we’ve finally gotten a lead on merlin.”

OR

they find a wasteland.

there is nothing left alive in a large circle, all of it surrounding an ancient building now nothing but rubble. the life is not burned away, or diseased into nothing, or anything that could be argued as natural.

instead, it is a wasteland that magic had abandoned. that intrinsic thing within all things, alive and not, had fled this place, ushered out by a fearful and terrified little godling ripped away from the only skin-home it had ever known.

nothing lives here and nothing will ever live here.

it is an ill omen indeed.

and then they discover the sorcerer’s bones, and the fact that said sorcerer was not in fact working alone.

“you,” the only other living being in about a mile spits out like a curse, upon sighting the king, “what have you done with them? where is the being below the skin?”

none of the knights nor the king understand. the little creature of magic had hidden itself in the folds of arthur’s cape, another golden draconian insignia among the rest.

“the what?” arthur asks.

“where is emrys?” the sorcerer spits, summoning a stream of fire heading directly for the king.

magic itself, given form, bursts from the camelot red cape, all golden edges and vengeful anger, the tiny thing no larger than an arm suddenly expanding rapidly. it forms a gigantic serpent, or something like it, lithe and long, but with the beak of a bird of prey, eyes like a feline, a unicorn’s horn on its head. it eats the fire whole, and the giant form bears down on the suddenly cowering sorcerer.

“but—but we freed you,” they mutter, afraid, “we released you from the human shell containing you. how else… how else could you bring back magic…?”

the thing cannot speak, it has no way to do so. what it can do is press feeling into your head. whatever this is, it is so powerful everyone there can feel it, and perhaps even some that are much further away.

G I V E I T B A C K.

it feels nothing like the helpless pained crying that arthur had heard from outside his window, like a yowling alley cat. this monster is nothing like the little bird-like afraid thing that had hidden in his collar, tucked against his throat. this beast of dripping fangs and deadly edges is almost completely separate from the creature of fluttery wings and wide eyes.

and yet he can hear something distinctly afraid in the wailing howl.

it is still desperate and afraid. it’s just angry enough now to cover it up.

[arcanegifs]

idk why ppl put comments like these + hate comments of the show/character/ship under the tags of a gifset knowing full well that the OP CAN and will probably see it and if u think this is a compliment IT IS NOT please stop doing this

[vonabel]

Izuku is a nervous man, sure. But he is courageous. He jumps headfirst into battles, he puts up a good fight, he spent months breaking his bones while getting used to his power. He is nervous, but that will never stop him from taking what he wants.

So, really, it's no surprise when he kisses you first. It's gentle, a peck, just a brush of skin. But it sends a thrill of excitement up your spine nonetheless, makes you feel giddy and excited. He's soft, warm, and a little sweet from the soda he had been sipping on. Something with cherry, you think.

"This okay?" he murmurs, head still ducked close to yours and lips still against lips.

"Yeah," you huff, grinning when he exhales a trembling breath. His flush is high on his cheeks, beneath his spattering of freckles. He's so easy to rile up, to tease. A laugh bubbles from your chest when you notice the way his fingers shake against your neck, but still, you're sweet when you ask, "Do it again?"

And you're so– you drive him mad. Every single thing about you turns his brain to mush.

So he does. He kisses you again, firmer this time. The cherry on his tongue invades your senses, makes your teeth hurt. The hand on your neck slips up and into your hair so he can angle you better for himself. Greedy and selfish and needy, he curls himself around you, fills you up with him.

Izuku will always take what he wants. And he's wanted you for a long, long time.

[littleplantfreak]

Silly/Clumsy WB boys HCs

I see hcs like this and theyre always fun/make me laugh o(｀ω´ )o

Sakura’s food went down the wrong pipe at a restaurant and when the waiter asked if it was because it was too spicy, he insisted through coughing and tears that that definitely wasn’t the case (he could tell they didnt believe him though)

Tsugeura sometimes lets one rip by accident when he’s exercising. Not even a little fart either, the kind that stops everyone from what they’re doing.

One time Nirei stubbed his toe so hard, he fell and grabbed onto the nearest object. Unfortunately that was the back of Sakura’s pants, making him accidentally moon a few people in class.

Word recall is hard sometimes. So when Choji calls an ambulance a ‘hospital truck’ really what can you do? At least he’s using words. Sometimes he just mimes the shape or action of the thing and insists that you know what he’s talking about. Will draw a picture if he gets frustrated enough, but if it’s something intangible? Well it’s a guessing word game. (Togame is the best at it, but Inugami is on Choji’s wavelength enough that he’s pretty accurate too)

Hiragi calls the first years by the wrong name sometimes, like a mom with too many kids. He’ll yell and say Sugishita when he means Sakura, but he does apologize before yelling again.

Because he’s around older guys a lot, Togame sometime uses really old words or sayings. You haven’t hear the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs” or he’s “bleeding like a stuck pig” in years until you’re stuck under an awning during a passing storm or he comes back from a rough fight, nose still bleeding profusely. Also keeps bag balm/cetaphil, some other really good lotion for calluses and dry skin and just kinda slaps it on whatever shishitoren member he sees who’s hands are cracking, saying that the skin won’t heal as well when they’re older so they better take care of it now.

Umemiya’s got the worst habit of losing, dropping, or sitting on his glasses. He doesn’t realize it until he hears the snap and he’s got them taped up until he can go get them fixed again.

Kaji’s kind of a messy eater. Especially with ice cream or food with sauce on it. Started to get better with checking his face after eating after Hiragi slapped a wet wipe on his face after he devoured a rack of ribs, leaving him looking like he’d cannibalized someone

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[fatuismooches]

Weird thing I always imagine. Idk if they’ve been invented in teyvat but let’s say they have so….rollie chair Dottore. Specifically if he’s taking care of fragile reader in his office, just cleaned their arm in preparation for needle, but wait that needle is over on his desk, that’s okay he’ll just wheelie over !! Idk just imagining him rolling from desk to desk to grab some papers and whatnot is so scientist/doctor coded

The only reason Dottore owns one of these rolling chairs is because you were the one who bought it in the first place (very much persuaded by Pantalone's luxurious one.) The Doctor prefers a regular ordinary chair, as that's what he's worked with his whole life and sees no reason to change, but that's also probably because he could care less as long as it doesn't break. You, however, are of the opinion that spinning chairs = fun. You replace his main chair with the rolling one. Dottore still doesn't care. He's much more in the habit of simply getting up whenever he needs something. You sit in his lap and try to push him to get it to roll but you're not strong enough for that of course. The mission is mostly unsuccessful. Mostly. He does sometimes unintentionally roll when the distance is short, and then just continues since he's already doing it. You find it very entertaining, and he does admit to the convenience. (Foxttore loves the chair the most. Lil shit refuses to get off it sometimes.)

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 10

Masterpost

The thing is, Tim has a few more resources than the average person. And maybe it's cheating, but the names in the first video aren't exactly the most unique, and when he and Bernard google them, they get a lot of results, and nothing very obvious. Which means that Tim spends most of the night laying next to Bernard, staring at the ceiling as his brain spins in some extremely fruitless circles. And by morning he is unquestionably exhausted and annoyed. Bernard is as kind and empathetic as he ever is, and the moment he realizes Tim's insomnia had gotten the better of him, he goes about making Tim an absolutely delicious breakfast. And then Tim has to go to work, and deal with idiot business people who think nothing of tactics that would harm thousands of their own employees.

Being an absolute pinnacle of restraint, Tim does not throw a chair at the department head who tries to subtly suggest cutting down his department's bonuses to increase his own, and he goes through dozens of emails, but by the time it's late enough to get away with leaving for the day, Tim is feeling exceptionally irritated. So, maybe it's cheating, but it's not like anyone has to know. After all, he can always work backwards once he has the connection, and present Bernard with a more appropriate methodology. So around mid-afternoon, he heads to the batcave and plugs some parameters in, so it can cross-reference the results for him.

What he gets is interesting, to say the least. The program flags a handful of different individuals and documents, but among them is an article from the Gotham Gazette about a motorcycle accident. Listed as victims are two teens, named Katherine Taylor and Jonathan Woods, both names that were among the details of the first video. It seems too odd to be a coincidence, though, and when Tim searches for the individuals in question, he manages to find their obituaries, and the photos reveal a near definite match.

It leaves something of a sour taste in Tim's mouth when he remembers this is supposed to be a fiction thing. Unless somebody involved in this knows how to hack shit real well, then they're using real people who cannot possibly have consented to becoming part of some game. There's also implications in the fact that the date listed for the photos is well after their deaths. He knows enough to know ghost stories aren't exactly uncommon in these sorts of things, but trying to imply that real people have become ghosts? Especially when ghosts are usually antagonists in scary stories — Tim stolidly reminds himself not to jump to conclusions, and simply notes the connections and moves on.

The bat computer, unfortunately, doesn't pull up info about the three other names, and it pulls up way too many results when it comes to the listed locations. It takes almost an hour of fiddling with search parameters, before he finally managed to land on something that might be a match. It's difficult to tell, because the photo they'd used is definitely old, but it looks like the Carle Park in question is in Illinois, which ostensibly gives them a location, corroborated by the fact that a highway 49 runs not too terribly far from it.

It takes a while of debate, but eventually he decides to go ahead and run the other photos of people through facial recognition, in case the photos match anything. He feels kind of slimy about it, but these things are public record, and even if this research isn't supposed to be for anything important, and even if the circumstances aren't exactly ideal, he and Bernard don't exactly have to post any of this info.

He's not sure whether to be surprised when he gets a match on a third individual. This time, the person in question is actually misidentified as Amber McCall, when the girl's actual name appears to be Ember McLain. What's more, the photo they'd been provided with is one of her as a child, despite the fact that she apparently didn't die until 21.

It seems an odd combination of details to get wrong, especially compounded by the fact that she was apparently on her way to fame, with a burgeoning music career. Her death is similarly tragic, reported as an accidental house fire, though Tim finds a contemporary article speculating otherwise. The writing reads as nothing but gossip, though, so he promptly closes it, and at the sound of footsteps, he closes out his search and takes his notebook upstairs, before any of his wayward siblings can start asking him questions.

[tojisun]

you gather dick in your arms every time he comes over.

he’s still with kory — and your drunken confession continues to be a topic unchartered between the two of you — but it’s not like you two aren’t friends even before the… crush developed. so you pull him to your side, then later into your arms because when he gets like this — quiet and withdrawn, and unable to force every feeling he suppresses back in its box — the best way to comfort him is to ground him through a hug. through a familiar touch, yes, but also one that is so separate from their double lives.

finding out he is nightwing was an accident, and just like the confession, you two continue to deny it even happened because like this — with an indie film playing on your television, which you two dutifully ignore, and a bowl-full of m&ms on his lap, and your arm curled over his back — you and dick can pretend that the two of you are back in college, crashing in each other’s dorm rooms to ignore the looming reality of having to write your finals.

later, he’ll crawl back to kory or maybe to his flat in bludhaven or maybe cruise back to the manor — later, he’ll leave because he always does — but for now it’s just you and dick in your couch. just like it always was.

[impel-clown]

Writing Mihawk in love is such a balancing act, because he's for sure dramatic- You can't just have a personalized coffin boat and not be called dramatic- but at the same time, he's stoic as shit. So no he's probably not going to go for some grand public display of affection, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna be Extra.

Like Crocodile mentions some variety of tomato he had as a kid, and although Mihawk doesn't say anything at the time, he immediately gets to work finding the right seeds, meticulously crossbreeding them to retain the right flavor but also to ensure they flourish in Karai Bari's particular climate, and then finally delivers a basket of them to Crocodile without so much as a word, and Croc just needs to understand on his own that this is how Mihawk expresses his love

Meanwhile Mihawk just tells Buggy one day that it's a shame that he can't see the clown's organs when Buggy chops himself, and if Buggy can't see the love behind those words, well that's on him

[erinwantstowrite]

can we get a vibe check on your current feelings about the newest chapter

like are you still feeling like RAH RAH I HATE ACTION

im a little bit less about hating the action scenes because i finally have a direction i want to go with it, but something about it is dissatisfying me. i haven't figured out what it is, however, and that's what's driving me crazy right now. maybe something's not meshing well? ik it's not an outline issue cause for action scenes i don't write one cause i will always go off script and annoy myself further. maybe it's something in the interactions that feels wrong, like i don't know the characters well enough? whatever it is, i have to find it in order to get past the action scenes. the thing is, they're relatively short, because you don't wanna drag an action scene out too long, especially in a writing format. which is good, because that means i can get past them faster. i had my action scenes and immediate action scenes set for 20,000 words as a goal and i'm halfway through that now. now that i know where i'm going with that, it's been pretty fast work. i wrote like 9000 words in two days lol. but there are other scenes i want to include at the end so that we can start Friendsgiving on chapter 20, so the chapter is probably gonna be somewhere around 24,000 words or 25,000... don't hold me to that because we know how i am. it might get way longer and i'll be like "GUYS HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED!?"

unfortunately i haven't been able to write today nor will i be able to tomorrow </3 the world is conspiring against me. like now i've gotten in the groove and i get nuked???

[minimallycreative]

me: *opens a doc*

my brain: hey, wouldn't it be a perfect time to catch up on all your missing sleep?

me:

my brain:

me

my brain:

me:

my brain: hey so—

me: FOR GODS' SAKE, LET ME LIVE

[smytherines]

on one hand I am discovering that art can be fun! On the other I am making myself sad