#and then i don't and then that compounds to never writing for it oof

[cheswirls]

i think (one of) the reason(s) i've been so lethargic abt art this month is i've reached a crux where my eye is trained better than my drawing skills so i don't like how my art looks anymore

logically i know the stepping stone from here is to do studies and a bunch of boring repetitious stuff to improve my basics but i don't wannaaaaaaaa (mostly bc it's summer n the semester burnout is real) so i am currently in limbo

[heian-era-housewife]

Sex, Smut, & Scuttlebutt

Lately I've seen a growing number of virgins, "new-cummers", and even seasoned sex vets voicing their concerns or frustrations with the unrealistic portrayal of sex within smut. Adult fictions are so fun to read and write and even more fun to act out in real life (with a trusted partner), but they are fiction. Quite often exaggeratedly so and in no way representative of what really goes on behind closed doors, or open (you do you babes).

Nevertheless these concerns and frustrations are real, they are valid, and they deserve to be acknowledged. And so, without further ado, I present to you the very real, very raw, and sometimes very unsexy side of sex.

(Though tbh nothing Ryomen Sukuna does could ever be categorized as 'unsexy')

Love to you all, no matter your experience 😘

Pairings | Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Higuruma, Toji, and of course Sukuna 💕

Content | mdni, smut, fem!reader x jjk men, piv, oral (both f-to-m and vice versa), pubes, blood, sex on period, first time, Toji eats a worm. It's fine. Don't worry about it.

Word Count | 3.3k

Gojo:

White Hair...Everywhere

You've been ignoring it for a while now. Well...trying to anyway. The faint tickle on the back of your tongue has grown into a sharp pinprick that jabs at your throat with each bob of your head. It's uncomfortable, it's distracting, and worst of all it is threatening to trigger your gag reflex.

Gojo gasps and whimpers, long fingers running through your hair, pulling you toward him as he edges closer to his climax. It's all you can do to focus on the task at hand when his sudden thrusts render the job impossible. You gag and sputter against the source of your irritation, eyes streaming as you pull away from his hungry cock. 

Confusion and poorly concealed dissapointment in his words of longing barely register as you wretch, two of your own fingers stuffed to the back of your throat. 

You turn to meet his eyes with yours still streaming as you reveal the cause for disruption. With your middle and index finger you pull a long, coiled, pure white hair from deep within your throat. 

"I think this belongs to you," you tease, wiping drool from your chin and flicking the stray pube his direction.

"Oof. My bad," he squirms, one hand sheepishly rubbing against his undercut. 

"Shall we resume?" You offer with a playful smile, making a show of patting away his snowy bristles before taking his twitching length back into your mouth.

"Phewww!" He whistled. "I thought for a second sexy time was over!"

"It wiw be ith you don' shu-up," you mocked, mouth full and voice muffled. You reached a hand around to give one of his ass cheeks an impish squeaze for good measure. Gojo laughed playfully before falling back into a steady rythm of whines and whimpers.

Geto:

Welcome to the Jungle

Unwaivering confidence was one of the things you loved so much about Suguru Geto. On a scale of 1-10 his sex appeal was an 11 and you were about to find out for yourself exactly why he was so damn self-assured.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but obsess over all your flaws and imperfections. Your outfits, those stretch marks, and was that =sniff, sniff= body odor?? 

But this was not the time to get lost in insecurity because you were perched pretty as a peach on his apartment sofa while Suguru stood, hastening to undo his belt, never once relinquishing that calm and cocky smile.

You gazed at him loftily, cheeks growing flushed, heart pounding in your ears. Your groin ached with longing as he stripped down to plain black boxer briefs and reached forward to help you down to bra and panties. Nerves and excitement churned in your core creating a volitile compound that set your heart ablaze. It was all too good to be real.

Finally, he guided your hands toward his own hips, placing them on the hem of his boxers, inviting you to remove his final garment.

Your brain buzzed with electric anticipation as you pulled downward, revealing that which, until this moment, you had only imagined. 

And there it was. 

And there you were.

Your buzzing brain cutting to standby as static filled your senses and every decision you'd ever made leading to this exact point in time sent you into a hurling spiral of doubt and regret.

Because Geto had shaved.

And you had not. 

Not now...not ever. Frankly, it hadn't even occured to you before. 

Insecurities came flooding in causing you to lose yourself entirely until the gentle touch of his strong hand on your pantyline dragged you forcefully back to your grim reality.

"NO!" You shrieked, pulling frantically from his reach. 

"Oh! Have I hurt you?" He asked with concern as you wished with every fibre of your being for a quick and painless death. 

"It's just...you're so pretty," you breathed, lip almost trembling as you spoke.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, cocky little smile returning to his perfect playboy face.

"And I'm...well..." you slipped off your own panties awkwardly, revealing a lush and uncut jungle, knowing you were already past the point of no return.

"You're.....?" Suguru prompted.

"I'm...you know...this!" You gestured to your unkempt garden.

"You're...female?" He finished, confused.

"NO!" He was missing the point. "I'm a gross unshaven mess! And you're...what? The centerfold of next month's Playgirl?"

Geto laughed, much louder than you expected, snorting as he did so. "That's what you're worried about??"

"That and a million other things...yeah!" You sulked, tears brimming your lashes as you slumped, defeated against the sofa.

"Come here," he said, pulling you close, forgetting entirely about his unclothed state. "I think you're sexy just the way you are. And, if I'm being honest, shaving is a real pain in the ass anyway."

Giggling to yourself, you watched as his impressive length grew soft and diminished as his arousal shifted to concern for you. 

"Hey!" He objected, throwing a pillow over his lap. "He was just worried about you, give him a minute," he teased.

Both of you laughed as you snuggled on the couch together, sharing doubts and insecurities, reassuring one another, and settling in for a long night. One full of love making that was sure to be genuine, sometimes awkward, but far better than any magazine.

Nanami:

Corporate Cock Block

Nanami was pent up. Not only had he been called on a particularly large number of missions this week, he'd been forced into overtime nearly every day. Now that he was home, he was desperately looking forward to nothing more than dissolving in your arms and seeing where the night might take you both.

Needless to say, he was more than thrilled when you suggested skipping dinner and going straight for dessert. That's right. You were pretty pent up yourself. And who was he to deny his pretty and incredibly patient wife what she needed?

"Thank you-hah-for being so-mhh-understanding this-hahhh-week", he breathed through passionate kisses, slipping off his suspenders and tossing his goggles to the side.

Movements punctuated by more steamy kisses, you helped him take off his tie and belt while he worked his fingers up and under your shirt to skillfully unsnap your bra.

He backed you down the hall and together you fell onto the bed, both panting in excitement as clothing fell hastily to the floor.

Just then, the phone rang. His phone. Illuminated harshly against the evening's fading light revealing none other than Satoru Gojo as the caller. Nanami went rigid.

"Hun," you said softly, "it's okay if you need to-"

"No." He asserted, cutting you off. "He's had enough of my time. I'm off the clock and I'm spending this evening with my wife."

The seriousness in his tone was all you needed to know it was case closed, so as he let it go to voicemail, the two of you resumed your game of lips and hands.

Time passed, Nanami was absolutely aching for you, and you were practically trembling in anticipation. As he lined himself up, you closed your eyes ready to melt at the feeling of him entering your throbbing core. And that's when it happened. Again. The name "Satoru Gojo" shone through the darkness as Nanami's phone lit up your room.

"I'm going to kill him," Nanami said calmly, head hanging in frustration as he imagined all the ways he could cleave his obnoxious coworker in a perfect 7:3 ratio.

"Kento..." you whispered, bringing him back to reality. "I really don't mind if you need to-"

"Absolutely not! This is our time. You and me."

"But what if he needs-"

"There is nothing he could need from me that is more important than what's right in front of me," voice dripping with sincerity.

"I love you, Ken."

"I love you too. Truly," he replied. "Shall we?"

Picking up where you left off, he gave himself a few quick strokes before plunging deep into your core. Tension and relief unraveling as he worked his strong hips passionately between your shaking legs.

***

As the love making continued, a new tension was building within both of you and Nanami could feel himself reaching his climax, breaths coming sharp and shallow as he felt his nearing release.

"Im so close," He breathed.

"Me too, baby," you gasped.

And then...

=RINGGGGGG=

Nanami cracked.

Snapping up his phone while pounding the ever-loving life out of you, you heard his voice loud and hostile as he snarled into the speaker.

"Satoru Gojo, so help me God I have half a mind to cut you down where you stand. Do you know how long I've waited to FUCK my WIFE?! How many nights this week I had to give up SEX with HER just to follow your sorry ass around chasing curses and cleaning up the FILTH of this city?! I was about to give her one SPECIAL GRADE, MIND-BLOWING ORGASM before you-" he stopped thrusting, blood draining from his face, feral sneer dropping into a hollowed out look of utter humilation.

"Principal Yaga I- of course, sir, I'm so sorry...Yes..yes..right away. I understand. Again, I'm so- no of course not. I appreciate your discretion...I'll see you soon...bye."

Your eyes widened in horror as you listened to his conversation, unsure which end was worse.

"I..uh...I have to go. I'm needed at the school," he muttered sheepishly, unable to meet your shocked gaze.

"Yeah, I gathered that," you said with a nervous laugh.

You helped him get dressed, giving him a tight hug and wiping the beading sweat off his brow as he stumbled back out the door.

"Kento!" You called as he headed in the direction of the school. He turned to look at you, defeat written in his tired features. "Come home safe, okay?"

"Of course, love," he rasped, weakly.

"You still owe me that 'special grade, mind-blowing orgasm'," you teased with a wink.

Shaking his head, you heard him laugh as he hurried toward his next mission.

Higuruma:

Erection Overruled!

Hiromi's long week has finally drawn to an end and as your tired and more-than-likely dishevelled man makes his way home to slump into his favorite chair and fall asleep, you want to make sure he gets to finish the week out properly. You've spent the afternoon hard at work yourself, cleaning up, picking just the right music, and slinking in to that silky little black robe you know he loves slipping you out of.

The mood is set, candles are lit, and as if on cue Higuruma stumbles in through the front door, dropping his briefcase, and sagging languidly into his favorite chair. You approach from behind, running fingers through his dark and unkempt hair, tipping his head back with a provocative "Welcome home," allowing him to savor the view.

Experience tells him there's not a thing beneath that robe and his eyes grow wide and hungry as he scrambles to his knees, facing backward in his chair to take you in. He burries his nose against you as he presses passionate kisses to your collarbones, moving to nip at your neck, trailing his tongue upward and landing just below your earlobe before whispering , "I've waited all week for this."

One very steamy makeout session later, you find yourselves in the bedroom, working quickly to remove each other's clothing, air thick with ravenous longing. But as you slip him out of his trousers taking his not even half-hard cock into your loving hands, things start to feel a bit off.

Nothing a few good strokes can't fix, you think to yourself, stealing a downward glance at his would-be errection-  flaccid, but hopeful.

~

Some time later there's still little change in terms of rigidity and you notice the exhaustion building behind his determined features. Knowing his pride is at stake, you start to wonder if it might just be best to let your tired man rest and resume love making another time. Opting for a mix of tact and humor, you make the judgement call.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I move to postpone today's proceedings until the defendant can get some well-deserved and very much needed rest."

Hiromi's eyes snap open. "Objection!" He barks automatically, surprising himself.

"Overruled!" You reply, tapping his tip once against his tummy as though holding a gavel. 

A moment of silence as you stare at each other seriosuly and then...

"PFFFTTT!" You both burst out laughing at the ridiculous scene. He pulls you in for more kisses and you lay together wiping tears from your eyes as the laughter continues. 

Turning on his side he offers, "Motion to reconvene tomorrow morning?"

"Motion granted!"

More laughter. A heavy sigh and then, "Thanks for understanding," he says.

"Impartiality is my job, afterall," you continue the act. 

Pulling your head to his chest he scruffles your hair until you fight him off, giggling. 

This isn't the first and probably won't be the last time your romantic pursuits as a couple are thwarted by exhaustion, but you know that with a little patience and a good night's sleep he'll be a different man come morning, when your courtship is back in session.

Choso:

Shark Week 

Choso's not just new to sex. He's new to life itself. Loving him brings you the unique opportunity of experiencing the world for the very first time through his eyes. 

The eldest of his brothers, he's already learned so much, but he still relies on you to guide him through his many firsts as both a lover and a mentor for all of life's unexpected moments- the good, the bad, and the painfully awkward. 

That is why, when you hear a sharp, panicked little gasp as he pulls out of you, dick still twitching from his orgasm just moments before, you suspect you are in for another brand new encounter.

"What's a'matter Cho?"

"Uhm..." He swallows hard, eyes trained downward. "It's...it's not there."

"What's not there?" You question, sitting up against your elbows trying to glimpse whatever it is he's staring at.

"The condom," He says weakly, mouth going dry. "It's just gone!"

"Ohh!" You reach a knowing hand between your legs. "It probably just came off inside me."

"Is that bad?!" He asks, voice thick with worry.

"Not necessarily. You can probably just pull it out if it's right there."

He slides two hesitant fingers over your entrance, feeling for the rubbery traitor that's caused him such distress. 

"Oh! I found it!" He sighs, relieved, pulling it gently from your core.

"See? Nothing to worry abou-"

"OH NO!" He cries, forcing you to sit up in alarm.

"What's wrong? Is it ripped?"

"You're bleeding! There's-" He looks as though he might pass out. "There's so much!"

"What?! I-" Realzation hits you as he holds up the stretched out condom, slick with glossy crimson. Feeling between your legs, you pull your hand away, stringy and viscous from a mix of blood and fresh arousal. 

"Oh Cho I'm sorry. I think I started my-"

"I can't believe I hurt you! I thought I was being gentle! Maybe it's my cursed technique?? No...that can't-" 

"Cho I-"

"I can fix it! Hang on let me just-"

"Choso!" He pauses his string of frantic babble to look at you. Deep lines etched across his troubled face. "Cho, I think I just started my period," You say, reaching your other hand to comfort your worried man.

"Oh. You mean 'shark week'?"

You laugh as he recalls the nickname you taught him for that notorious time of the month. "Yes hun, shark week."

"Was it...because of me?" He asks, eyes brimming with shame and guilt.

"No, my love!" You giggle at his innocence. "Just a coincidence. I'm sorry I scared you!"

A wave of relief washed over him as he clutched his chest, watching you get up and head toward the bathroom. 

"I thought maybe I broke you somehow..."

"I know, sweet boy," You called from the hall. "You did nothing wrong. But when I come back we're going to cuddle like there's no tomorrow!"

"That....sounds nice" he said with a sigh, collapsing backward on the bed, brain tired and foggy from the day's latest lesson. 

"Wait!" He called, suddenly excited. "Does this mean chocolate ice cream and movie night??"

"You really are a quick study!" You praise.

Running to grab the ice cream he calls, "I think I can get used to shark week!"

Toji:

Three's a Crowd

Toji is a lone wolf. An elusive rogue agent. He holds everyone at arm's distance, including you. That is...until recently, anyway.

What started as casual hookups in seedy bars and late-night love hotels, hell even the back of a cab once (actually maybe twice...you were rather drunk), has turned into pseudo dates and sober conversation. To be honest, you've fallen pretty hard for your man of mystery and the last thing you want to do is scare him off now. That's why, when he finally invites you to his place for the first time, you're determined not to blow it.

"It's not much, but it's home." He says, leading you through the front door of a shabby back-alley apartment. Despite his somewhat delinquent nature, his apartment is well-kept and the made-up bed you spot through an open door near the back looks far more inviting than the sleazy moth-eaten matresses and dive bar sofas where you've been spending your less-than-romantic moments.

Grabbing his hand, you practically drag him back there, excited to see where he lays his head at night, smell the cologne on his sheets. He stumbles behind, a goofy yet seductive grin stretching the scar on the corner of his lips that you're just dying to taste.

As you step into the darkened bedroom, a small sound grabs your attention. Atop the dresser something is breathing- sputtering. You pause, trying to get a look at the noise's source, realizing Toji must have a pet. Your heart skips as you imagine this macho miscreant returning home to a small, soft animal for whom he shares a rare bit of affection. Fucking adorable.

The creature, appearing only as a shapeless mound at first (is it a cat?) turns to look at you. And that's when you freeze. Because there in his room, peering at you through swollen, squinted eyes, frothy drool dribbling down its pudgy face, is a gigantic....worm???

"Toji!" You gasp, turning back to hide behind the muscular arm you're now grasping for dear life. "What the hell is that thing?!"

"Oh." He says curiously, "You can see it?"

"OF COURSE I CAN SEE IT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! THING'S FUCKIN' HUGE!"

"Heh," he chuckles, amused. "It won't hurt ya. C'mere."

Without even another glance at the demonic creature, Toji pushes you against the bed, bringing his large frame down over you, rutting his hips as he feasts hungrily on your neck. You want to lose yourself in the throes of his passion, you really do. But all you can think about is the thing on the dresser. Turning under the weight of Toji's advances to see if it's still there, you find yourself making direct eye contact with the hideous overgrown catarpillar.

You can't believe he's not distracted. Can't believe he hasn't said a single word about the little drooling monster. And as Toji makes quick work of undressing while he hovers over you, you find yourself unable to contain your inner thoughts.

"Toji...it's so...long!" You say, eyeing the thing warily.

"Mm...I know, Doll," he agrees.

"I mean like...it's gigantic!" You mewl covering your eyes in disgust.

"Hah...so I've heard," he admits, slipping off your panties from beneath your skirt.

"And it...I don't know...it looks hungry. Like...it's about to tear me apart..."

"If that's what you want, love," he growls with a forward thrust.

"Seriously, Toji, I don't know if I can do this! It's just so gross!"

"...Gross?" He looks like he's been punched in the gut.

"Yeah! Gross and purple!"

"Purple?!" Pulling out, he stares down at his cock. "Fuck you mean, purple?!" Then, following your gaze he says, "You're not still on about that damn worm, are you??"

"What did you think I was talking about?!"

"Look, if it bothers you that much, I'll get rid of it." Without another word, he gets up from the bed, crosses the room to the dresser, takes the creature in his hands before crunching it down into a tiny ball and swallowing it whole.

"Now are we gonna get freaky or what?" He huffs.

Oh, we are wayyyy past freaky, you think to yourself.

Who the hell was this mysterious man of yours? You're left with more questions than answers. But despite the horror you just witnessed one thing has you smiling...arm's distance or not, you doubt very seriously anything you do could scare him off.

Sukuna:

Thousand-Year-Old Virgin

Sukuna is a hardened, battle-ready, godlike being of prowess and prestige, decorated by time itself. Stranger to no man and no challenge, his many achievements transcend the millenia. He has seen and done things even those with rich and deeply fulfilled lives will never experience.

Let's face it, he's a thousand fucking years old. So that's why, when he mumbled something under his breath, something you thought could only be some type of strange joke, you were too stunned to laugh. And the fact that you didn't is the only reason you're still alive. That, and he's fallen rather profoundly in love with you, but he won't be admitting to that any time soon.

So when he pulls away from your lips to stare sheepishly at his bare feet criss-crossed in front of him before uttering the words you're sure you must have heard wrong, you ask him to please repeat himself.

"I've never done this before..." he gruffs, crossing both sets of arms and averting his gaze to the side with a nose-crinkling sneer.

"Done...what?" You ask, innocently.

"This! All of this!" He barks, waving his arms in frustration.

Your brain is working overtime just to read between the lines. He's acting like it's obvious, but you can't understand which "this" he's referring to.

"I don't get what-"

"SEX OKAY!" He gruffs bitterly. "I've never had sex!"

You just stare. Lips parted slightly as your jaw hangs limp, still unsure you've heard him correctly.

"And would you stop looking at me like that??" He scowls.

"'Kuna, I...I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, well...neither do I," he admits, still avoiding your gaze.

"It's just that you're...a thousand years old...I guess I just figured in that time you would have-"

"I didn't get to where I am by running around like some dog in heat," he retorts. "I spent my time getting stronger, strategizing, honing my cursed technique. Then I was sealed away for a few hundred years. When the hell would I have-"

"I never thought of it like that. But I figured Heian Era and all, the 'King of Curses' must have had concubines, right?"

"Yeah? So? I had a bunch of that old-timey shit!" He spouted. You had to stifle a laugh this time. "Doesn't mean I cared. I was...you know...a little busy conquerring the world?"

It was beginning to sink in. The King of Curses, God of the Heian Era, the Great Ryomen Sukuna sat on a shelf like a minted doll for a thousand years, completely untouched, and you- little modern nobody you- were about to take his "v-card". You felt giddy.

"'Kuna," You began, reaching out to take his face in your hands, compelling him to look at you. He hissed as you did so. "Ryomen. We don't have to do this."

"No, I want-"

"If you really want to, that's fine. Just know that it's going to be messy. Probably a little awkward. Maybe a lot awkward! Heck, I don't even know what to do about the extra set of limbs and...appendages," You laughed, giving his thigh a squeaze. He rolled his eyes. You continued earnestly, "I just want you to know it's okay not to know it all- not to get everything perfect. That's where the trust comes in...and where the memories are made."

He heaved a deep sigh, turning away again as he became lost in thought.

"Hey, Ryo?"

"What, brat?"

"Thanks for waiting for me," you wink.

"Don't flatter yourself," he grumps, a rougey glow tingeing his cheeks.

"Of course not," you smile. Then, eyeing his extra arms you continue. "So I just have one question..."

"Speak."

"Will we need one condom, or two?"

Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs always appreciated, but never expected.

MDNI banner credit to @cafekitsune

Special thanks to @heian-era-househusband for always listening to my stories and for being my trusted partner 💕

[comorbidityqueen]

Hi! Hello! my name is Taylor and i'm a 31 year old brain injury survivor. I haven't used tumblr since i was a teenager and im not sure if i can pin this post so it comes up first so excuse my lack of tumblr navigation.

I wanted to create this space as a gentle reminder to myself that my writing matters and also as a way for other disabled folk to find some relatability or relief knowing they are not alone. I'm hoping it could also educate others on just the severity of what we go through on a daily basis.

i'm not sure if anything will eventuate from this but if i give one person insight into something they previously knew nothing about then hey, that's cool. So a little bit about me...

i am a scorpio sun, aquarius moon and capricorn rising with a sag merc + venus and cancer mars (oof, right?!). Astrology aside, im a 31 year old living with an acquired brain injury in Adelaide, Australia (Kaurna Land).

When i was 12 years old, 3 days before my 13th birthday, i suffered a right MCA (Middle Cerebral Artery) CVA (Cerebral Vascular Accident). Basically, i had a massive stroke deep in the middle right side of my brain. I was at school at the time and my school didn't call an ambulance straight away. Negligence (sprinkled with ignorance) aside, i was unable to receive medical intervention leaving me permanently disabled for the rest of my life. I suffered with full left side hemiplegia, seizures, cognitive deficits and a substantial amount of teenage angst at the time along with some hysterical laughter. I have now learnt that was something called the pseudobulbar affect and that i wasn't actually losing my mind, that i had just suffered a significant trauma and my brain was like "nah man". My nana died on the same day and i hysterically laughed when my parents told me a few weeks into my 3 month inpatient stay where i had physiotherapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy. I like to think she was my guardian angel. I learnt to walk and talk again, actually, i had to learn everything again and after numerous tests and scans, the hospital informed me that a genetic mutation was the cause. A compound heterozygous MTHFR (Methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase) which can predispose to thromboembolism to be exact, and yes I still interpret the acronym as motherfu*cker, because it sure was to me and my family at that time.

Over the last almost 19 years i have spent working hard on a body i never signed up to have. I have survived not only an ABI but relentless bullying, substance abuse, trauma's and grief along the way. As i've aged i have regressed, and in 2021 after sustaining a concussion and being diagnosed with concussion syndrome, things got a lot harder and my mobility suffered greatly. With that came debilitating daily migraines, stroke regressions, chronic pain and worsening mental health problems.

I do weekly physiotherapy and have been very fortunate to benefit from NDIS here in Australia. My goal is to eventually become a disability and mental health advocate, while still somehow working on my mobility on a daily basis and trying to survive.

i'm not sure how often this will be used depending on the availability of spoons, but if anyone has any questions about brain injury please don't hesitate to use the ask me anything button ☺️

[derangedthots]

Hiiiiiiiiii lovely writer author jacemond wife,

I hope you don’t mind me asking but I got curious about your writing process for FTF & CTF. Like you’re very much aware of where your fic is going what inspired it and already know what would be spoilers and what isn’t for us your in love readers. I hope it’s not a bother to ask and if you don’t wish to answer that completely understandable. I just wondered how you planned out the universe and plot for this ship so effectively and efficiently.

Also i can’t remember if you ever tagged it or not but was there going to be like angst in this fic? (Not asking for like tagging reasons but just because I wondered with Aemond’s personality we’d be getting dumb blond brooding and grandma Vhagar two days away from kidnapping Jace and Aemond to an island and flying away. Targaryens and their emotional constipation feelings about family)

Hope uni is treating you good and Jacemond treats you better!!!

hello my love😊🥰

it's not a bother to ask at all!! (though probably not that interesting to hear haha) i have an overactive imagination that has a tendency to make connections really quickly and if the material i'm working off of is anything based in fantasy, that ability only compounds lol. my brain will make large connections (i.e. major events i want to write/read) first while also running smaller details in the background and the longer i leave both to sit and marinate, the clearer the narrative becomes. it's all very chaotic by nature so i'll try to keep as much as i can organized on a good doc - since i can always delete certain plans later - and just keep reminding myself of where eventually i want the story to end up.

there's a lot of scene/plot planning that happens but i also try to leave myself a lot of room to play outside of stuff i KNOW needs to happen bc i don't want the fic to feel bogged down or like i'm just crossing things off a list. i mentioned in my ch2 author's endnote that i like giving my stories "room to breathe" bc i want them to feel organic rather than mechanical. hitting the right emotional beats is really important to me (what are humans if not highly-emotional beings after all, isn't that just terrible and beautiful?) so there's a lot of internal deliberation abt how characters would respond & react to certain things that i think abt every day in order to avoid the pitfalls of treating them less like complex people and more like hollow puppets on my strings. when i write, i aim to imbue my fics will life and life can lead us down unpredictable, frustrating roads haha

taking all that into account, it's pretty much why i don't have a set update schedule. i tried to do the monthly thing releasing the first ch of CTF a month after FMF but it became clear almost immediately that that wouldn't work just bc, by that point, the story had grown too large for me to tell it the way i felt it needed to be told in such a short time. plus uni responsibilities factors into it too and updates get postponed even longer than i would ever want them to (boo👎🏼👎🏼)

and research, a lot of research goes into me planning these fics lolol and often times bc i haven't read f&b i have to cross out ideas and change certain details i previously (incorrectly) believed and/or don't wanna keep

oof that was so much rambling again😂 but to answer your second question, for some reason i thought i already added the angst tag to CTF and clearly just forgot. ik you said you're not asking for tagging reasons but for me personally, it was v irresponsible of me considering jace has already had at least 2 panic attacks at this point and well...everything else. tagging my fics appropriately is important to me bc i never want to trigger anyone unnecessarily and i know we all have diff thresholds when it comes to how comfortable or uncomfortable we are with certain subjects. i'll add it here in a bit, thank you for reminding me!! it's esp. important bc yeah...there's definitely going to be more angst moving forward...no spoilers tho my mouth is sealed🤐😶‍🌫️

i hope life and jacemond treats you AMAZINGLY😚💕💕

[skaruresonic]

If a person who's basically Lanolin's creator is willing to give her this much near-villainous dialogue, I'd fully expect her to become a villain in the actual comic. I can definitely picture her trying to turn all of Restoration against him just because she personally doesn't understand (and doesn't want to understand) him at all. I know that's (most likely) not the path they have for her but still.

Also dunno how much you know of star wars but she really reminds me of that equally snooty commander lady in return of the jedi.

Yeah, people keep saying maybe Lanolin will turn out to be a villain but like, that's not going to absolve her of her nastiness right now, nor retroactively make her writing more entertaining.

It might contextualize her behavior, but it won't be such a dramatic improvement that it'll elevate the writing to a higher standard of quality. They keep receiving chances to give us A Reason(tm) to explain why she's Like This, and the fact that they miss every single one tells me they're more content with letting fans fill in the blanks themselves.

And... no. I'm not doing their job for them. They're the writers here. They need to quit being lazy and write something coherent for once.

I just need one line of explanation to put everything into context and scrub my hands of her forever, but we don't have that, and it's likely we'll never get it. All we have is "guys be patient with me I'm still learning the ropes uwu," only for her to turn around and continue being a bad leader and an overbearing, overstepping #girlboss. Which is compounded by the fact that nobody particularly wanted or needed her to step up in the first place. Lanolin has a lot more agency than the book lets on, and yet she continues to refrain from sensible decisions in favor of getting mad that people can't read her mind and do what she wants.

We've played this game multiple times before, characterizing the OCs so that they're actually coherent because the alternative is balking at how fucking abysmal the writing is, and it always proves to be a pointless exercise. Reality disappoints so much more than whatever you have in your head. I'm not going to write fanfic for the book if they can't be bothered to develop their characters properly.

Sorry for my terse tone, but the book's stagnant writing frustrates me. I got burned from following Starline too closely, hoping his story would have culminated in some sort of point other than "he didn't think his plan all the way through" (then why hype him up as more meticulous than Eggman for years? Jesus fucking Christ, don't waste my time like that), and look what happened. He got buried under rocks, eulogized with big oof, and everyone who was previously saying Starline was the shit was now laughing at his still-warm corpse because Flynn essentially told them to.

Nuh-uh. Fool me once.

In all likelihood, the book will try to pretend she's not a raging bitch. That she was justified in sneering at the heroes due to a deficiency on Sonic's part. They'll probably pull a "well, Sonic does need someone to rein him in."

And what will happen then is the crowd will murmur agreement, and take it to be a God's-given truth about the character, and spread it around as if it's fact. And then we'll have to slog through "um ackshually, Sonic probably should have somebody slap a leash on him, he's a careless force of nature and a danger to everyone around him" discourse for the next several months. I am not having 'nam flashbacks to three and a half years' worth of people parroting "Eggman never has a solid plan," why do you ask

Because the OCs can never be in the wrong. If there's a problem with OC/canon dynamics, clearly it's the game characters who need fixing. If only Sega would let us flanderize them to make our characters look better by comparison! Alas, mandates. 😔

[vanillann]

within the vision (bucky barnes x f.reader)

a/n: i’m going to be naming each chapter based on a sitcom from that time era, cause i can!! also i’m so glad everyone liked the prologue!!

warning: WANDAVISION SPOILERS, swearing, suggestive language, talks of past trauma, AU

word count: 1.9k

within the vision masterlist

Chapter 1: Born Yesterday 

“Do you remember everything we just went over?”

I rolled my eyes, snapping the silver bracelet on my wrist, the little charm would be normal to anyone else but Bucky and I knew the content.

“No, I forgot everything,” I turned to Tony, smiling sarcastically when he frowned.

“We should have given you up for adoption,” Tony titled his head, the tiniest smile on his lips and he played with the technology again.

The room felt packed with people, Tony and Bruce running around the technology, Bucky and I waiting beside two beds that were shoved beside Wanda’s, and Steve and Sam leaned against the wall trying to tell me to stop with this plan.

“We don’t know what could happen,” Steve repeated again, his arms crossed as Tony gave Bucky his bracelet, thicker than mine but still normal enough to not have anyone question it.

We had taken extra steps to ensure our safety as nobody knew exactly where we were going.

“You both need to get out as soon as the mission's over,” Bruce nodded, to both of us. His finger danced across the different screen, Tony and himself were the only ones who understood it.

“I was planning on going on a walk before I came back.” Bruce rolled his eyes, but gave me a hint of a smile. He understood my defense mechanism, one of the few people who never got mad when I couldn’t be completely serious. One plus for anger management classes.

“I regret doing this already,” Bucky spoke under his breath, looking up to Sam who gave a fake thumbs up.

“If it comes down to it, leave Bucky,” he responded, earning a thumbs up from me.

“I hate both of you.”

Bucky and I both laid in our own bed, our combat gear already on as we laid back slightly, Tony taking Bucky's side while Bruce came to mine.

“We’re going to first hook you to this machine to keep track of your vitals,” I said nothing, watching Bruce shove the IV in my arm and playing with the machine a bit to make sure everything was okay.

“Next, on the count of three you’ll press the button on the bracelet. Remember you need to keep your mind focused on Wanda for this to work,” Tony continues with his run on sentence, only stopping once Bucky and I both nodded once.

I felt the chill suddenly run up my body, suddenly nervous to just hind out in my best friend's mind. Especially since she had always been younger than me, I felt weirdly awkward now.

“Are you both sure about this?”

I saw Bucky nodded slightly from the bed beside me, suddenly all eyes on me. I felt myself shift in the bed, avoiding eye contact.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m fine, I just need a second,” I spoke after Steve, smiling at his worried glares but said nothing else of it.

You were doing this for her own good, you were helping her. This wasn’t you reading her diary after teasing about her crush, this was her turning into herself not knowing we were waiting for her.

“I’m good,” I laid down on the bed, not looking at anyone as my other hand searched for the button. I wasn’t going to mess this up cause I couldn’t find a button.

“Okay, remember to stay safe and think about Wanda.”

I nodded lightly, trying my best to zone in on Wanda while Tony’s count down filled the room.

“One.”

I thought back to young Wanda and Pietro trying to hide my shoes before one of my first dates when I was 14.

“Two.”

Wanda giggling in my room at the compound when Steve went on a manhunt for me because I was late for practice.

“Three.”

I felt my finger smash the button, thinking of Wanda’s face as she held off Thanos with Vision life in her hand. I thought of her tearful face as she gave me one last glance before everything blew up before my body was smashed against the nearby tree.

The weird feeling around me gave me a stomach ache. The feeling of falling when you were about to sleep almost, but my eyes refused to open as the wind rushed past me. I wanted to panic, to pull myself from whatever I walked into, but I simply couldn’t.

I couldn't sense anyone around me, my body was all alone falling and I couldn’t stop it. I was a controlled person, I enjoyed control and suddenly that word didn’t even exist anymore.

Then it stopped, the falling was gone and my eyes were pushed open. My body was moved differently, pushed against something. When I slowly moved around I noticed the slight dusk of the sky.

“(Y/N)?” My name whispered filled the same space I sat in, I looked around trying to get my brain to focus on one thing. I felt something cold against my wrist cause me to jump, pushing harder into the rough back.

I looked down, Bucky's face laid under whatever I was sitting on. I looked up, noticing the windows and the steering wheel slightly ahead of me. I took in the leather under my fingers, seeing there wasn’t a door handle in the back and how low the roof was.

But that didn't worry me, what worried me was I couldn’t make out any other colors besides black, white, and grey. I looked to Bucky, hoping to see the light pale skin on his face but was met with white, almost like a white crayon that had been run in black dust lightly.

“Where the hell are we?”

“Wanda’s head, I thought this was your plan,” Bucky slowly sat up from the floor of the backseat, I had luckily ended up on the actual seat. I looked out, hoping to see the colors of the sky but I was met with the same grey color.

“Can you see color?”

“Can’t say I do,” Bucky rubbed his arm, slowly moving to sit in the same space I had made for him on the seat.

I finally looked around the rest of the area, noticing the row of houses and other such things. The trees and bushes reminded me of the old movie Steve would make us watch, looking like something out of a sitcom.

“What are you wearing?”

I frowned as I looked at Bucky, his eyes held confusion as he looked me up and down once. I looked down at myself, shocked to find myself in a dress, definitely not my combat gear. The material was dark, I couldn’t tell more, and a fake belt was sowed into the thick fabric.

“I haven’t seen one of those in awhile,” Bucky picked up a piece of the dress at the end, rubbing the material between his fingers when I slapped it from his wands. That when I heard it, laughing. Not like you told a funny joke laughing, like a sitcom laugh.

I pointed to Bucky, my eyes wide as I waited for who knew what. When I saw Bucky slowly look up at me from the place he looked at my dress I knew he heard it. That's when I noticed the suit he was wearing, specifically an older looking arm suit. I looked back around the car, spotting the matching hat to the suit on the dash of the car. I didn’t say anything, slowly reaching up to grab it when I saw a door open.

A lady with dark hair and bright smiles walked out, held a hand slightly in the air if she were to hold a cigarette but no smoke came out. She was talking to someone, whoever was in the house. Suddenly I watched the owner lean out slightly, my jaw going slack as I saw Wanda’s bright smile hides behind loopy curls.

“Doll-”

“Don’t call me that,” I spoke softly, doing my best to keep the facade up but I was so shocked, Wanda was lightly pushing the woman out the house, almost as if begging her to leave with a little laugh. She looked the same, only dressed up similar to me.

“You’re going to want to see this,” he tugged on my dress, my hand slapping it away again but he yanked hard. He sent me flying to the back seat of the car. my side pushed into his with a loud oof.

I heard that stupid sitcom laugh again, trying to push it to the make of my mind as I pushed away from Bucky. I hit him in the side with the hat I had managed to take back with me, my mouth wide open to yell but Bucky shoved something in my face.

I could spot the coke logo from miles away, only it wasn’t the saem logo I had always remembered. The bottles were glass and the writing looked much more vintage. That when I noticed Bucky tapping on a part of the label, my eyes reading over the information their.

Expiration date: July 6th, 1953

“1953?” I looked around the neighborhood again, suddenly realizing the vintage cars that were parked along the streets and the dress that hung off my frame.

“How?”

“I don't hear you asking how we ended up in the wrong decade,” My voice was stern as he spoke, watching the dark haired lady finally leave Wanda’s porch and go to her own house close by.

“Not the time,” Bucky finally sat up slightly, watching the lady walk in her house.

“When is the time then? Maybe the 70s or do you wanna wait til the 90s,” I snapped, looking over my shoulder with a pout. His face was so close to me, I finally noticed his once long hair was cut short.

He looked like he had in those photos of Steve and himself, back from the 40s.

“Well, what do we do know?” Bucky looked at me, his nose almost hitting mine when he turned but I had slightly moved back.

“I guess blend it?” I shrugged, hearing that stupid sitcom laugh that I wanted ro punch in the face.

“How do you suppose we do that?”

I looked around the neighborhood, smiling when I noticed the house across from Wanda’s had a large “FOR SALE” sign standing in the front yard.

“Break into that house and act like we belong here,” I smirked, ignoring Bucky as I slowly climbed into the front seat of the car. I heard Bucky yell out about me kicking him but I didn’t care as I made it to the driver seat, pushing open the door.

“For your information, I do belong here,” were the last words I heard from Bucky before I closed the door, smiling over at the house and trying to keep my voice low to not attract wandering eyes. I stood in the same place for a second, suddenly my view changed from house to concrete. I felt a little bump on my backside and frown when I heard Bucky laugh.

“Should’ve held the door,” I noticed his combat boots beside my face. Normally I would have bought him down with me but I decided it would bring too much attention and simply pushed myself from the ground.

“I hate you,” I frowned, slamming my foot into the road when I heard that stupid laugh sound around me again.

“Okay okay,” Bucky held out two arms from me, trying his best to calm me down but it wasn’t any use, I simply pointed to the sign, turning back to look at Bucky with a serious look in my eye.

“We are stealing that sign and moving to that house.”

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<prologue - chapter 2>

[heli0s-writes]

Drabble Prompt #161: “Tell me a lie.” - “I love you.” JUST BREAK MY FUCKING HEART, WHY DON'T YOU? (Oh man, Heli, PLEASE make it hurt. I need a big, big oof 😭)

THIS ONE WAS HARD. I TRIED. Angst! Lots!Request a prompt!

brooklyn born masterlist

What year is it? Where are you? What’s my name?

It’s dark the first time he asks you these questions. The two of you smothered by the filth of a collapsed building, blood dripping from a split on his forehead into your mouth.

2023. In … where the fuck are we, Buck?

He wipes the blood from your nose-bridge and it smears it further up into your hairline. You’re fine, you assure him, but a large welt is forming from where your skull cracked under the falling ceiling. And then suddenly, in the soot grey silence of dust, stars blossom over Bucky’s face and he spins into a million fractures.

The room returns in a rocking motion of planetary misalignment— a roar of primordial birth. Grey, still, but rushing in like a storm.

Your head turns to the side to find Bucky and Steve peering down at you. Their voices are fading away as you waggle a finger. You guys okay?

Bucky chokes on a desperate laugh and catches himself against the jet’s wall. Steve kneels and brushes a tear from your cheek. His fists are clenched tight and before you go you hear him spit a long and vengeful string of curses.

-

The trauma lingers and your brain is sending out Morse codes of electrical activity, disrupting its natural frequency. You seize intermittently— at least three times on the hospital bed.

The nurses are slower than he is, so when Bucky gets there first, he follows their protocol and checks you with that annoyingly mundane prodding.

What year is it? Where are we?

You gurgle and flip him off. 2023. Med bay, goddamn it— anymore dumb questions?

He laughs. Why are you such a pain?

You have a question for him in reply. Where’s Steve?

It’s immediate, the way Bucky frowns a miserable crescent moon that hangs low on his face. He’s back in the field, finding the fucker who blew the room out.

Your cracked lips seal themselves shut, the grimace speaking louder than words ever could.

You and he know better than most how Steve changed after the Accords, tuning himself out to every feeling except for the one that keeps him fighting. Bucky knows that when you gaze into some unknown distance, you’re thinking about how your Hercules has transformed into Ares. Gold tarnished into red, blooming blood.

The stars above the compound snuff themselves out by sunrise and Bucky jerks awake with Friday alerting him to your bedroom. It’s midnight again and his bare feet slap against the floor all the way in. Time is a circle now, being asleep and awake feel one and the same, saturated with worry.

His hands are shaking when you lurch back to life.

What’s m—

You shudder, sh-shut the fuck up with that.

A sharp breath escapes his trembling mouth. I was going to ask, what’s my favorite color.

The same noise falls out of yours. Trick question, dumbass. Black isn’t a color; it’s a shade.

He stays on the floor for the rest of the night, and after the sun climbs across and makes its way back to the other side of the sky, he comes back and does it again.

In the dark, your sighs become ocean waves. Your hands gripping the sheets of the empty bedside sound like footprints in the sand. Bucky listens, half-asleep, to your whimpering like a slow siren call pulling him into the deep.

The interrogations come more frequently, because the doctor told him you might be experiencing other side effects from the injury. Someone needs to be there, to watch you, just in case. So, he asks you throughout the day all sorts of idiotic things. Mostly because of fear, sometimes because he’s secretly eager to see you smile.

He hasn’t seen a lot of that after the Accords. After Ares, he supposes.

What’s my birthday?

March tenth.

His brows raise in surprise— I wasn’t expecting that.

Where’s Steve?

You catch him off guard. He’s supposed to do the asking. The tile floor of the kitchen holds your tears on a Wednesday morning while your fingers scratch at the smooth surface, securing yourself in the moment.

I don’t know… haven’t heard since last Tuesday.

Your nostrils flare and Bucky wipes the corner of your eye. He tries to lighten the mood, tugging out a memory of an older day when you were the life of the party. Tell me a joke.

You stare into the fluorescent light hanging over his dark head. The shadow obscures his cheeks as he looks on. Your mouth is detached even as the silly question slips out. What is Beethoven’s favorite fruit?

Then, the end of Friday pitches you over in the middle of a shower. The caddy of shampoo and conditioner flies off its perch and scatters with a bang the same time your knees hit porcelain. Water rushes into your mouth and nose but you can’t feel it.

Bucky rips down the door, yanks the entire curtain off furiously and you, slippery with suds, into his lap. His one hand clears away the broken soap dish, the other turning your head to the side.

Come on! Come on, come on. Come back. Come back.

Three minutes feels like an eternity.

Your gasps finally wane, and you look up at him from your place on his thigh, leaned back on his palms, breathing hard as if he’s the one who fell. He reaches over for a towel, drapes it on top of your body and pretends like he hadn’t seen anything.

Who won the game last night? Bucky grunts. You blink spots from your vision, hand reaching up to find his face, to make sure he’s there.

S-sportball? C’mon, Buck. Like I fucking kn—

A long-suffering sigh. His heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his chest, and here you are, being a complete pain in his lap. He tries a different approach.

Who makes the best lasagna? Never mind– I know it’s me. His brain is discharging rapid-fire questions, trying to forget the shape of your body beneath the cotton sheet. What’s your third favorite animal? Who sings that song you like? Tell me about your ma. Tell me a story. Tell me a lie.

You laugh then. The one he’s been waiting for. The first one all week— all month, since your head cracked open. Since Steve left you for vengeance. It’s a clipped sound, not really a laugh, but he takes it eagerly with a fluttering in his chest.

I love you.

Bucky’s thundering heart stills as your head moves from its sideways position on his leg. Instead of his thigh cradling your cheek, his lap cradles the back of your skull. Beneath him, you peer, lips parted at the beginning of a sentence. He beats you there.

What? Why would you—

A lie, right?

Bucky nods stiffly. Misses the way you stare at the point of his chin when he tilts back. You’re a pain, you know that? Guess that’s how I know your brain isn’t knocked loose yet.

Friday dings tepidly, alerting the both of you to an arrival and soon enough, heavy and determined steps are echoing down the hallway. Stiff footfalls, commanding gait.

Steve. Ares.

You should head back to your room. He always wants to see you first.

A little hum sizzles from your throat as you pick yourself up, letting Bucky steady you with his arm. Not always.

It gives Bucky pause as he gathers the jagged ceramic bits and soap bottles scattered on the floor. Your voice is small and reluctant when you call his name. Bucky?

Yeah…?

The look you give him from the doorway half splits your mouth open, showing your teeth. When was the last time you gave him a real smile? Bucky’s brow furrows at the restrained moment pulling itself apart, lasting an eternity.

Your turn, Buck. Tell me a good one. Tell me a lie.

Infinity lingers. Steve’s steps are frozen in time, endless like the three minutes you seized in his lap tonight as he searches your eyes for an answer to the unasked question. It hovers and breathes down his back. It’s a secret. A fib. An admission wrapped neatly inside the pretense of a shared game.

He smirks and hopes the splintering in his heart doesn’t show on his face.

I love you.

-

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