#and with that tag i block my own post lol. i still don't really want actual spoilers until there's an official trailer...

[notasapleasure]

Wild hopes for Andor S2:

Oh, apparently blorbo *might* be in the trailer? Riding a speeder on Dantooine you say? Aughhhh don't toy with my emotions like this!!

So for posterity, before anything about s2 does actually become clear, my vague hopes/'if I got to write their story' headcanons for my Ferrix badasses are a jumble of the following:

I don't see them immediately going back to Ferrix, they're recognisable (Bix is known to the Empire, Wilmon will be known by association with Salman, Bee is known as Maarva's droid, they had an eye on Brasso as 'the big guy' even before he fucked shit up with the funerary brick...and I can't remember Jezzi doing anything specific but she'll have been seen round Maarva's home and funeral), and riot or not, I'd say the Empire will be in the mood to make an example of Ferrix rather than to go 'oops our bad we'll leave you in peace'. So it seems a bad idea for the fugitives to return there for their rebellion as soon as they've left.

On that ship we know there's a skilled electrician (Wilmon) and mechanic (Bix), and I've always presumed Brasso must know his way around a ship well enough to be able to take it apart, and that Jezzi has some similarly Ferrixian industrial skill. I thought it would be very sexy if they all got involved in making/repurposing tech for the rebellion. In my heart of hearts they're patching together the first fleet of X-Wings.

Orange. Ferrix orange (Brasso's felt jacket orange) and rebel pilot orange. And there's the shot of Cassian in an orange pilot's suit in the trailer. I just. I just have hopes. And dreams. And colour was so significant in Rogue One (the red of the force/rebellion...there was an awesome post on here pointing out way more examples than I'd noticed, but I always think of the lining of Jyn's vest). Maybe it's reclaiming Narkina orange, even? But the look of the Ferrix clothes reminds me so much of the OT aesthetic, I think that's got to be the more likely connection.

Bee? Kay? Do they meet? ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ trying to suppress the thought 'what if Bee helps to make Kay possible?' but the thought has been thunk. (ETA: NOT into the theory that they're the same person that's not what I mean. I'm talking hardware donation. Wires and chips. Not personality)

Dantooine. Dantooine base. After all this time!!!! What Legends book did I first read about the base on Dantooine in?? idek but if I'd ever written the epic angsty plot follow-up to that one fic (only ever just one night) it would have involved the Ferrix gang making X-Wings work on Dantooine :') I have feelings about Brasso the wrecker learning to make things instead :))

It should go without saying that I want to see Bix channel her healing into getting stuff done and fucking up the Empire.

I guess my feeling is that if we're time-skipping over a five year period in a, what, 12 episode season? There's not time for a huge arc for all the Ferrix characters alongside everything else the show needs to cover. My cautious assumption is that this either means a load of them get killed off/sidelined early, or they're kept together in the same setting so their stories are interlinked, but presumably with focus remaining on Bix (and Bee). Dantooine/wherever the rebel base is beforehand/the move to Yavin struck me as a good place for this, where they can still be brought in and out of episodes through whatever time-skips happen because it's a place the title character is going to be coming and going from regularly, like Ferrix is in S1. Naturally it is a selfish thought to want to recreate the S1 dynamic :)) because I want my blorbo(s) to get to be relevant and a part of Cassian's life still, but if that suggestion about Brasso on a speeder on Dantooine in the trailer is remotely accurate then I will cry happy tears.

Who knows, if they get to survive, maybe all those heart-pulverising fics and fanarts about Cassian's (glass) stone being laid on Ferrix will find a place at the end of the series?

[fragmentedblade]

.

[joosthead]

skin || j.k. x f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ joost wants to make a song.

₊˚⊹⋆ for @spentandpent’s contest 😅🩷 (2 months late)

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 10.3k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (established relationship, consensual audio recording during sex, f!receiving oral, mirror, ruined orgasm, overstimulation, squirting, vibrator, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, creampie), kind of really porny i can't lie. pwp. crying both out of (momentary) sadness and because cumming 🩷 reader🤝being total crybabies🤝juno

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “skin” by mac miller, “p power” by gunna

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: vibrator. go big or go home right 🩷 as always @howisjoostfanfictionforfree my partner in filth 🩷 @spentandpent for infecting me w the overstim brainworms 🩷 and lovely @xiaoflan for listening to me complain about this fic ! 😆🩷 i love and appreciate you all 🩷 the art for the header is by one of my amazing best friends <3

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

“Are you ready, mijn schat?” Joost asks in a soft voice, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. 

“Ready as I'll ever be, Joosti.” 

One of his nicest microphones is set up on your bedside table, wires crossing every which way, his laptop on the ground and hooked up to it.

This was an idea that came about spontaneously, as most things regarding Joost come about; on the train home together, sharing his wired earphones with each other and listening to your playlist of liked songs when Skin by Mac Miller came on. His ears perked up and his eyes brightened at the first few seconds, and you knew you were in for it. 

There’s a woman in the first few seconds—she sounds like she’s having a positively great time, mewling softly, panting in a way that sounds almost like you when Joost is fucking you good. This was on your playlist?!?! You couldn’t fathom a situation where you’d listen to this in public, but here you were, hearing it all as you watched Joost and his mouth drop open a bit. 

Your cheeks warmed and he poked you in the side—“Oh my god,” he said, taking your hand and shaking it. “You know what this means, right?” You shook your head no though you knew the answer—”Our turn!!!!!” He said it so loud that an old lady beside you gave him a dirty look, and he just smiled at her. “Can we? Can we?” 

“Joost.” 

“I just want to hear what it’s like—if I made a song and your beautiful voice was in the background like this or you were my little producer tag.” 

“Very creative,” you laughed, sarcastic. Secretly…you two aren’t exactly public about your relationship. He would post about your anniversaries, your birthday, Valentine’s Day, your vacations; they know you exist, and that he has a long-term girlfriend, but you were so private you were almost elusive. “You want my moan in the back of your song?” 

Something so…obvious under his belt. Something so loud. It was unlike you, and you knew it would never be released, at least not in the raw form he’d likely want it to be in, but it was still something. Something that made your stomach turn in that way that felt good and not scary, even with how rarely you were in the public eye.

You existed in the backgrounds of Joost, Appie, Alanis, Stuntje’s Instagram stories; you existed as a tag of a username, a pixelated and blurred out face in Joost’s photo dumps to protect your privacy. You exist out of the spotlight, in the background, not as the beat of his song, but you figure—it is only a matter of time until you join him in the sun. 

“Who better than you? I want you everywhere, schat. Your moan will become my trademark,” he reasons, and as always—master of persuasion, at least with you. “One time. And it’ll just be between us, okay? Or mostly for me, I love hearing you.” 

You decided in a quick second that you’d do it—all Joost has ever done is protect you, and even with your easily overthinking mind, this sounds fun as all hell to the little devil in your mind that wants everyone to know that he’s yours, you're his. No one else’s. Being possessive doesn’t come naturally in any other part of your life other than Joost. 

“Okay,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder, holding his hand in yours. “Let’s do it, Joosti.” 

“Wahhh—I love you!!!” Joost exclaimed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and going back to happily looking out the window. 

“Mijn meisje,” he says softly, and it makes your stomach turn, the smooth glide of his voice as you lie back onto your pillows. You imagine how it’ll sound in the mp3 file. “Thank you for doing this for me.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, shaking your head. “We would’ve had sex anyway—why not make something of it?” 

“It’s a big deal to me.” 

You nod, “I can imagine.” Joost fiddles with a dial on the side of the microphone, presses a button somewhere else, tidies the wires. “What do you think it’ll sound like?” 

Joost snickers a little to himself before starting— “Agh! Joost! Fuck me harder!” he whines, high pitched and teasing. “Urgh, Joosti, you’re so huge inside of me!” 

“I do not fucking sound like that,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder to his barking laughter. “Schat, you’re so tight, I think I’ll cum in three seconds!” 

“Hey!” Joost says, laughing as he leans to you for a kiss. “Okay, it might be the truth but I think it’ll sound good. As long as it’s you, we should win a Dutch Grammy for this.”

Outside the window, it’s rainy; the roof is pelted with the droplets of water of an autumn in Amsterdam, loud and incessant and comforting. Your room in this old house is humid with the moisture, but you’re sure it’s mostly just the two of you and your warmth making it feel so stuffy. 

“We haven’t even made it yet and you want a Grammy?” 

“Why not? I know we’ll get one, don't doubt us,” he grins, slinking off the bed and crouching in front of his computer. Joost’s customary wired earphones are plugged into it and he places a bud in his ear. “Mic check, 1, 2, 3,” he says, Joost Klein style, the sound waves appearing on the screen. “This issssss me and my baby’s recording session number one—“

“Number 1? The only one, Joost.” 

“Okay, okay. Recording 1 of 1. Our ears only.” Pausing a little, Joost gets that expression on his face that lets you know he’s about to say something strange and he does: “Do you think we can make ASMR mouth sounds from this? Dutch kissing ASMR or something?”

“I think we can make more than mouth sounds when it comes down to it.” 

Joost laughs, lifting his computer and placing it on the corner of the table behind the mic; gets up close to it, whispering and tapping on the wood of your bedside table like the people in the ASMR videos you both watch at his behest before bed, “Explain to them what we are going to do, schat,” you laugh and he shushes you, “This is very serious work, we have to be quiet, shhhh.” 

“Uhm…” you say quietly, stifling back a snicker as you get close to the mic from the side. “We’re going to record us fucking—“

“Bad word, schat,” Joost whispers, shaking his head at you disappointedly, “Think about the advertisers.” 

Tapping on the metal body of the microphone, you roll your eyes and start again, “We’re going to have s-word—“

“That’s better.”

“And record the sound from it so Joosti can put it in a song,” you whisper and he nods, mouthing, “Good job!” and giving a thumbs up before he brushes aside your hair to put the other half of his wired earphones in your ear. 

Immediately, you’re met with the sounds of your shared soft breathing and Joost’s hollow tippy taps on the base of the mic. When he goes quiet, the pitter patter of the raindrops upon your roof are loud enough to hear clearly. “I turned up the sensitivity so we don’t have to move it around while we’re recording,” he says, and you nod. 

“I can hear that.” Every single sound and movement you make for the coming hours will be captured on this little waveform. Your voice echoes back to you in your ears, and you scrunch up your face. “I hate my voice.”

“I love your voice, mijn schat,” he says, getting on the bed in front of you. “Sounds even better when you’re saying my name.” Smiling at him, you settle back against your pillows in your prettiest pajama set, a camisole and a pair of loose shorts, both printed with small blue flowers all over. Joost takes the ribbed fabric of your shorts between his fingers, tickling your thigh, “This one is my favorite one.” 

“Every one is your favorite one,” you counter as you open your legs for Joost to sit between.

“As long as you are wearing it, schat—of course,” Joost says, sighing wistfully as he takes the earphones out from both your ears and drapes them on the nightstand. “Are you sure you don’t want to film? You’re so pretty.” 

You roll your eyes as he laughs—it was definitely a topic of conversation after the fact, recording video of it like you have a few times before, just isolating the sound after. You argued that the sound from a real microphone would be better, and he argued, “Why not both?” 

You shut it down, telling him that your room would just become your own personal porn studio if he did both and would never go back to normal, and he died of laughter as the old lady on the train gave you a shocked look and moved away.

No filming. At least not today. 

“Do you want your song, or do you want a video?” 

“That is an extremely hard decision, baby.” 

“Make it before I make it for you.” 

“I want my song,” Joost says, simply and finally, and you nod. 

“You’ll get your song.” 

Joost lies down on top of you and the weight is comfortable as he holds himself up with one hand and cups your face in the other. 

He hasn’t shaved in a few days, his stubble scratchy against your chin as he comes forward and kisses you, soft lips against yours, his body warm and heavy and already grinding his crotch against your center as he slides his hand up your side, bringing up the hem of your camisole. 

You’re hyperfocusing on all the sounds; you’re both quieter than normal, just the smack of your lips against each others, the licking of his tongue into your mouth; the sound of fabric against fabric as he grinds his hips into yours and groans, half-hard already; the shifting of Joost lifting your tank top and exposing your tits to his dilating blue eyes, getting back up off you on his knees. 

Joost runs his knuckles down the curve of your breast and over to the other, making your nipples pebble in the already cooling air, your muscles jumping and leaping with how sensitive you are. “How cute,” he murmurs, and your cheeks burn. There’s something different about him today—if you think about it, if you were a music artist and your girlfriend let you record audio of how good the sex is, you’d be cocky too. 

The confidence looks good on him, a small smirk on his lips as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes and take off your shirt completely, tossing it to the side and lying back again. 

Joost tugs on your shorts and you shimmy them down as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, the sensation tying a knot in your stomach with want for him. “Why aren’t you taking off your clothes?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as he lies atop you again. 

“Just want to try something,” he says, placing a kiss between your breasts before he moves over to your nipple, taking it in his mouth and kneading the other breast in his hand. 

Grazing it lightly with his teeth, you let out a small hiss at the sensation before he closes his lips around it and sucks; your mouth drops open watching him as he does it, intent and content with his place on you. You just got him back after a month and a half away in Berlin working on music nonstop—you have an inkling that you both feel like this is where he belongs.

For a while, you both lie there as he mindlessly suckles at your tits, as you play with his hair and pretend like there isn’t a pool in your panties waiting to be addressed further than this—you don’t want to rush him. “Art can’t be rushed,” or whatever he says when he’s too busy editing visuals or tweaking his tracks in progress. 

Stifling back a sigh, you tug at the short hair on the nape of his neck, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak of your nipple. A tiny little mewl lets itself out of your mouth as he laps at it. Pulling back with a pop, nipping at the skin next to it—“Dude…” he starts. “You’re being… so quiet. Is someone a little shy, schat?” Joost grins, kissing you. 

You furrow your brows. You are but you’re not going to get called out by the most outgoing person you know like this. “No, I’m not.” 

“I think you are, you haven’t said a word.” 

“I’m not,” you insist, smiling once you realize that you have the perfect comeback. “You’re just not doing enough to make me say anything.” 

Joost’s entire face changes, falling completely flat with his eyes narrowed at you and you grin. “Oh, I haven’t done enough? Is that what you said, lieverd?” 

“I don’t wanna say it’s not enough. But definitely not enough to give you your Dutch Grammy award-winning sound bite. The pace you're moving, we’ll get a participation trophy at best.” 

“I’m not doing enough—I am lying on your tummy letting you berate me while I suck your boobs, don’t think I forgot about the last month!!!” he exclaims, voice rough and accusatory and silly, smile so wide as he jabs his finger in your face. “Don’t think I forgot!!!” 

“You’re still on that?” you laugh, squishing his cheeks, getting his hair out of his eyes. 

“Duh,” he grumbles. “It’s half the reason why I wanted to do this.” 

“Forgive me, then.” 

There’s been no time for you to call or Facetime him in this past month; only texting and one-sided voice messages from Joost pleading for you to send him a voice memo back but you’ve refused, either willingly or unwillingly. You’ve been so tired, your voice and energy all going to talking to clients and people in real life that you just couldn’t muster the strength to send him back any after a long day—Joost couldn’t call for long either, too occupied with the final touches on the album. 

He asked you one night, sleepy voice rasping about how he just wanted to hear you, and he sounded so hot—you texted back that you couldn’t sound sexy and all he said was that he didn’t care if you sounded sexy. He just wanted you. 

Still, you couldn’t let it happen.

Joost whined all the way up until his train home got to the station; all the way home in the car as you drove him and asked about his work; all the way up to now, pouting with his prickly chin on your bare chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“If that isn’t enough, how far can I go to get my audio clip, then?” Joost asks. 

The both of you are competitive as can be with each other. 

So long ago, you bet him he couldn’t make you cum just from internal stimulation alone—he proved you wrong and then some. He bet you last year (and every year before that you’ve been together) that he could last all of November not cumming—you manage to prove him wrong anywhere from 2-5 days before his birthday on the 10th. Everything is a competition, everything is a game for you two, that’s what makes the relationship so fun. 

If you give Joost an inch, he’ll take a mile, and you know that better than anyone. 

“As far as you think it takes, Joosti.” 

Wordlessly, he gets up off from you and sits on the side of the bed facing the wall, in front of the mirror that’s there now—obtained at a swap meet somewhere in the city and hauled back by you both; standing against your wall, the top rounded in an arch, used mostly for outfit checks and Joost to try on a million different clothing pieces before he decides on things he wears all the time. 

“Sit between my legs, baby.” 

“Why should I do that for you?” 

“Because I want you to do it for me,” he says, looking back at you and patting his lap. “Here. Sit down or none of this will happen.” 

Usually, Joost is never so commanding—he’d rather ask you, sweetly and nicely to please do something for him. There isn’t a demanding bone in his body. And yet…

You take the seat between his legs and look at yourself as he hooks his fingers in the white and lacy waistband of your panties and pulls them down your thighs, down your calves. His lips ghost over the nape of your neck as he watches you in the mirror—Joost is always intense, always strong-willed, but it’s as if he’s come back a changed man.

“I want you to watch me do enough.” 

He hooks his hand under your right knee; you let him bring your leg up and drape it over his, spread wider than you’re used to. The same is done to the other leg; if you tried to close them, you’d be unable to. 

“I’ll get those sounds out of you if it kills me, lieverd.”

The cotton of his shorts, Tears as always; your shared necklaces resting on the chest hair that pokes out of the neckline of his wifebeater—they rub against your backside as you adjust your position on him, Joost’s warm and clothed body making your naked skin feel piping hot. 

He places his hands on your inner thighs, squeezing lightly. There is the feel; of his rough fingertips gliding against your silky skin, dancing across the jumpy nerves of the junction between your leg and the beginnings of the most sensitive parts of you.

“Do you know how hard it was for me not to hear your voice for so long, lieverd?” 

With his gentle hands, Joost spreads you open, exposing the most private part of you to both of your eyes, his chin hooked on your shoulder and looking down directly at it. You almost shrink into yourself, bringing you closer to his chest against your back, rising and falling steadily. In contrast, your breathing is so erratic, you feel as if your lungs might tire. 

The microphone will pick up your labored breathing, as much as you’re trying not to make a single sound; the mirror reflects your furrowed brow back at you as he dips his fingers inside, light and gentle, bringing the wetness back up to circle your clit slowly. 

“Mooi,” Joost murmurs, gazing intensely down at your form in his hands, putty in and between his fingers. “Look at you, hm?” 

You’ve done this so many times—watched as he’s fucked you, in the mirror or when you watch your bodies meeting, over and over again when he fucks into you, cock reaching your deepest parts. But today is something different, you can’t tell why, but it brings hot heat to your chest and cheeks, to see it so clearly. 

You can’t deny it—it’s you in that mirror, it’s you with your legs spread for him, it’s you. 

It’s Joost behind you, a mess of blonde hair, no glasses on today, his rough chin against your shoulder as he pets you slowly. 1982 exposing you, 1983 doing the rest of the work. 

“Als een mooie bloem, mijn lief,” he murmurs, two fingers spreading your lips, another rubbing your clit so gingerly you want to swear at him to go faster, harder, but you know he’ll just do the opposite of your wishes in this mood he’s in. 

“A flower?” you breathe out, and Joost smiles at you in the reflection. Still though, you know your words aren’t what he wants at the moment. 

“Pretty flower,” he says, and the smile is gone. 

The sound—the sound of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, the wetness from your pussy all he needs to do so, not spit or lube or anything else. Just the slickness of the back and forth of his hands on you. 

The rain beats down on your roof, louder now, the backdrop for those filthy sounds coming from you. “You’re still so quiet, I think the mic will capture the rain more than you,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing and nipping at it. ”The quieter you are, the longer we have to do this.” 

“Is that really an issue?” you say, labored through the consistent circles of your clit. You turn away, looking at the side of his face—“Ah, my god,” you whisper, moaning softly as he brings his hand up to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and kneading your breast. 

“Not really, but I question how much you can take.” 

“I can take a lot, you know that.” 

“If you can take a lot—why are you looking away?” 

He moves your chin gently so you're looking at yourself in the mirror again, and he’s looking at you so intently, pupils so blown out you'd almost think his irises were black. You look down at your pussy to avoid how burning his gaze is; watch as he pets at your entrance, and slides his two middle fingers inside, the stretch warm and all you’ve needed the past several minutes. 

Still you hold it back, chomping down on your bottom lip not to let any sound close to a real moan out—you’ve made the rules for yourself: not loud enough to be usable, the least amount of sounds possible, and the biggest one, proving to be the hardest as he continues…don’t say “Joost.” 

When Joost starts curling his fingers inside of you, pace slow as ever and he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit—you have to stifle a whimper, both at the sound, and the appearance of it, his fingers disappeared inside of you. “You’re really going to do this, lieverd?”

“I never said I’d make getting your song easy.” 

“I like a challenge.” Joost gives you a kiss to your temple and you smile even as he ceases his fingers moving.  “That's why you’re my girlfriend.” 

“Hey,” you giggle, and then stop giggling when he moves his fingers faster and it makes a truly blushworthy squelching noise come from inside you. He does it again—why would he stop, seeing the way your face screws up in pleasure in the mirror at the pads of his fingers on your g-spot? 

For some reason, you expected him to be nice about it, let you have a little break—but two can play this game, you know that well. 

Your wetness is louder than even the rain, his rhythm making the sound almost incessant. “Do you think we could make that the beat?” he thinks out loud and you give him a bewildered expression.

“You…no. One day I’ll understand your thought processes.”

“What do you mean? You already do.” 

You never realized how loud it could be to do any of this. Can people hear you so clearly all the time? Your neighbours, your roommates, strangers. 

The countless times you’ve fucked in backstage dressing rooms, club bathrooms, the backyard—this is what it sounds like? There is no mistaking it. On the audio recording, it’ll be even clearer. Your voice, high pitched and breathy. Joost’s voice, deep and low and rumbling against your neck. 

“How many people do you think, schat? How many have heard us?…I think they would like it, how it sounds when I’m inside you.” You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks and the tension in your chest rising at the same time at his words. 

“You're so wet, my baby, and this is only the beginning—what about when you cum? How loud do you think you are then? What will my fans think when they hear this, hm?” 

“Jo—mmm, fuck,” you sigh, stopping yourself from saying his name. 

This shame and arousal growing inside of you—they’re like two sides of the same coin for you, and they accompany that tightening in your stomach, so close to cumming. The impish and petulant devil on your shoulder tells you not to do it so quickly, not to let Joost get what he wants after you agreed so eagerly to this entire thing.  

You screw your face up, thinking of… paperwork and saying bye to Joost at the airport and sad kittens in animal shelters—you have never actively avoided an orgasm in your life, but this is working quite well, and it seems to be obvious. 

“Schat, are you serious right now?” You open your eyes to see yourself and Joost behind you, his lips a straight line, no amusement to be found on his normally jovial face. “What are you doing?” 

“Being a challenge, I thought you knew,” you say, voice more wavering than strong—your eyebrows furrow, a sheen of sweat on your forehead as Joost continues crooking his fingers right into your g-spot. Almost immediately, you lose your focus on keeping your climax away, melting into the pleasure of his thick fingers fucking you open. 

“Say my name, baby, that’s all I want from you.” 

“No,” you say softly, turning your head and resting it back on his shoulder—he knows what you want, and he can’t resist you. “Please?”

Joost looks at you, blue eyes so warm you almost think he’ll give you what you’re asking—a kiss, his lips on yours, but he only gets so close that your noses brush, that all you can do is breathe into his mouth and hope he gets closer. 

You try to adjust yourself, but he holds you in place with his forearms, still thrusting his fingers inside of you, your face contorting in pleasure with every single move he makes closer and closer to your face, tipping you right over the edge, right where your climax is and then—

Nothing. 

As quickly as he moved them, Joost takes his fingers out of you, resting them wet on your thigh as you tense with what you thought was going to be an orgasm, a tidal wave of bliss flowing through you. In reality, the waves subside quicker than usual without him fucking you through it, and the sensation is ruined—almost completely.

Pathetically, you let out a whimper, can’t even let out the moan or the gasp of his name he wants so badly, that’s how miserable it feels. Joost’s never done that with you before—he’s always gotten you to the peak and rode down with you through it, kissing and licking and petting you through it and even past that point, mischievous and pushing your buttons when you swear at him to give you a break from all the bliss. 

“Joost,” you pout, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned. “Fuck you.” 

“Fuck me? You weren’t doing what I wanted, schat, why should you get a good one out of that?” Joost scoffs, and though he doesn’t seem too serious, breathing heavily against your back with you, you can’t help but feel like you did something so wrong. “You’re playing too much.”

It makes sense now—he asked you for one thing—one thing. 

Wasn’t much to ask, either. Microphone and equipment straight from his yet to be unpacked suitcase. Joost’s one reprieve from album mode until he’d take the train back for him and Tantu to do a final once over on every single track. This stage in the process takes weeks, sometimes even months—pushing too many buttons on the control panel, their soundboards and computers and plans all prodded and poked and pushed to the limit until the project is the amalgamation of their creative vision and perfection.

This time, you pushed too many buttons; through all of this, you’ve forgotten that Joost has been at home less than 24 hours, that the train ride from Berlin to Amsterdam was 6 hours long with no stops, no wi-fi, no you to soothe his worries, only album preparations far past his self-imposed deadlines and his own thoughts. 

You’re both workaholics—it’s why you get along so well, but it means that you know better than anyone that the last thing you’d want to be after so long is annoyed, and annoyed on purpose at that. 

When he’s as petulant as you’ve been so far, you know that you can get annoyed as well, asking him to just—stop. And he does, but you couldn’t do that for him. Joost has gotten frustrated with you before, sure, it happens enough that you’re not so affected by it anymore. 

But he’s never been so frustrated before that he’s ruined your orgasm. For some reason, the expression on Joost’s face, the heat of the moment, the dull pulse between your legs at both your immense need for him and the emptiness you feel at such a clipped climax has you emotional and overanalyzing the last half hour, every bratty quip of yours, every response from him. 

“I’m really sorry, I know you had a long few days, I shouldn’t have—” Water lines your eyes, and you try to blink it away when you ask in a weak voice, “Are you mad at me?” You feel terrible. Embarrassed. 

Joost meets your eyes in the mirror, eyes widening in surprise at your emotions strung so tight; you break, a tear running down your cheek which you quickly wipe away because you feel like you're making a big deal out of things and it’s just—aghhh!!!!

“No, my baby, of course not,” he smiles, face sympathetic, lips pouting at his baby being so emotional. Such a reaction would usually make you roll your eyes at him, but he’s so sweet, you have to nuzzle closer to him. “Come here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and letting you curl up in his lap. “You’re so cute, mijn schat,” he coos, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek as he hugs you tight. 

Joost is so kind to you, it makes you feel a bit silly—not in a bad way, just one where you’d never think you’d be sitting on his lap, naked, being comforted about having your orgasm ruined by him. Almost five years of this kindness, you’re not sure you’ll ever be used to it. 

“I just got a little frustrated that’s all, none of it was serious, okay? I thought it would be a little fun for us to try something new like that, but I should’ve talked about it with you before—I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, wiping your eyes a little. “Just don’t look so serious next time, I really thought you were angry.” 

“I got too in the moment, I guess.” Joost moves your hair aside and kisses you on the lips, tender and sweet. “I’ll make up for it, I promise you.” 

With that, you nod, letting him kiss you, letting him suck your lower lip in his mouth and then lick into yours, touch so devastatingly slow it almost makes you whine again with anticipation. Joost places a gentle hand over your throat, giving it a small squeeze, and he laughs when you moan, quiet and stifled into his mouth at the pressure. “You know, you’re very pretty when you’re desperate,” he says softly when he pulls away, and your cheeks burn. 

“I could say the same about you, Joosti.” He noses at the side of your face, and you melt at the feeling of his skin on yours. “Am I not pretty all the time?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t start, schatje. Gorgeous, beautiful angel—is that what you want me to say? Lie down and hold your legs back.” 

Quickly, you get off of him and lie back down on the bed on your mountain of pillows, and he takes his place sitting between your legs, wet fingers running through your folds as he takes a look at you, all of you. “Aren’t you pretty?” 

He takes your left hand, kisses your palm then your fingers, then he places it firmly on the back of your left knee. He does the same for your right side, then lies in between your open legs, staring, examining. One finger down your slit, collecting your wetness on the tip—Joost leaves a bite on the meat of your ass, trailing kisses all the way until he kisses over your entrance, over your clit. 

You breathe heavily with anticipation, but still, you find it in you to tease. “Doing a lot of silent things for an audio recording, Joosti.” 

“Not silent—all of it is important, every second.” He shakes his head to 

“Defeats the whole purpose of the audio? Doesn't it?” You smile, flexing your ankles, feeling your muscles stretch as Joost teases your clit with his index finger, makes you open your legs wider. “The whole point is to record how good you make me feel, right?” 

“You want to be silent so badly for me, you want to play around so much—why are you calling me out for it? That I want us to have fun?” Joost rolls his eyes, but then smiles at you, trying to soothe the burn. “I like when you play,” he murmurs, then spits on your pussy, making you full body shiver when you do. “Play even more, let’s make this recording go hours.”

“And I’ll cum all I want?” 

“Careful what you wish for.” Joost rubs the spit over your bud, spreading you with two fingers and petting at it with another. “Als een prinses, schatje. Spoiled.” 

“Spoiled,” you mock, and he shakes his head at you, grinning. 

You probably shouldn’t rile Joost up so much—it’s too late for you to save yourself when he dives in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. The spit and silky softness of his tongue make you keen, how good it feels to have him on you, his lips sucking so much, so good, so wet. 

The slide of Joost’s finger inside of you surprises you, how gently he pets against your spot internally as he laps at your pussy; you sigh, having to close your mouth on purpose to not make any sound. He sucks your clit between his lips, tightening, loosening, several seconds passing as he continues the pattern, making you groan with the feeling of him eating you out so well. It’s too much; you cry out when it hits what feels like 10 minutes with his tongue on you, but is really only 20 seconds at most. 

Too much, so good—bucking your hips up, you squirm, futile against his strong hands holding you down by the backs of your knees folded almost to your chest as he drinks you in, the wet sound of his mouth smacking against you so humiliatingly wonderful you could cry. How are you supposed to stay silent now? 

“I’ll never get enough of this, lieverd,” he says before diving back in, lips wrapped around your clit as you moan out at the suction, whining as you hold onto his arms for support, because pushing against him is no use—either way, who are you kidding? The last thing you want is for him to stop, especially after that first “orgasm”. Completely breathless, you stop trying, tired hips back on the damp bed sheets. 

“Good girl, baby,” Joost praises at your defeat, your finally being subdued. The nickname makes you shudder, arousal pooling deep in your stomach, and you squeeze at his arms for some sort of comfort in response. 

Joost nips at the thin and sensitive skin of your inner thigh and it makes you yelp, then he comes back and licks through you again, fucking his tongue inside of you. 

There’s no sense of organization or pattern anymore with what he’s trying to do—he’s lost it. He’s lost it. 

Your climax hits you like a freight train, your stomach and thigh muscles spasming, any control you had—lost. “Mmmf…fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillows as Joost keeps sucking your clit through your orgasm, white on the edges of your vision at how intense he’s doing it. “Ugh… shit!” you cry, panting out when he keeps going.

“It’s only a matter of time until you give me what I want, schatje,” he says in a quiet, sing-song voice, then attaches himself back to you. Your clit is practically numb with pleasure now, and yet, the waves are rolling through you, erratic and wonderfully uncomfortable. 

You laugh out, tears at the edges of your eyes at how intense your nerves feel, how fried they are—“Joost, enough!” and he lets up off you. He sits back up and pouts at you, lips and cheeks wet with your arousal. 

“‘Jooooooost!!!’” He laments, cursing at the sky in jest, and you laugh at how dramatic he is. “The line is ‘Joost!!’ Lieverd! Joost!!!” he says his own name in a weird, breathy moan that you’re half sure really will make it to a final draft of a song of his. 

Holding yourself up, legs open and so wet between them, you purse your lips for a kiss, which Joost gives you. “You said we can make the recording go hours—I’m sure I’ll say it one of these times.” 

“Okay, I’m glad I say the recording can go long—I will need a minute.” As Joost pulls back, you tilt your head to the side; he sounds… strange. Embarrassed, almost, and his cheeks are pink, and he can’t look you in the eye anymore, completely different from your ravenous and intimidating boyfriend from 45 minutes ago.  “I think I came in my pants.” 

“You’re kidding,” you scoff, throwing your head back and laughing.

Joost gets back up off the bed, stands. “Do I look like I'm kidding?” he says, pointing down to the wet spot on his crotch—he must’ve ground against the bed too much, how cute. 

“You haven’t done that since we started dating,” you laugh, watching as he strips off his shorts and his underwear looks just as bad. 

“Well, I did it again. Your fault. This sucks.” Joost shimmies down his boxers, picking them up and throwing them in the hamper; it hangs on the rim, he’s already soft, and he looks at you so dejectedly, then at the ground. You start to say ‘aww’ —he’s so cute and pathetic this way, but he wags a finger at you, saying,  “Do not say ‘aww’ at my dick, you’re annoying,” and it makes you laugh harder until he’s laughing too, climbing on the bed and kissing you sweetly, pulling back only to take off his shirt and then immediately come back to you. 

Laying atop you, he wraps his lips around your nipple, pulling at it gently with his teeth as you wince in the pain and the pleasure. Joost lays his tongue flat against it, laps at it, switches to the other one. 

“I just love you,” he sighs, latching onto you again immediately after, and it makes you smile—insatiable, truly. 

A few moments of this—letting Joost lave over your skin, the stiff peaks of your breasts, sucking hickeys into the meat of them—and he’s ready to sit back against the headboard together. 

Your legs are open and his hand is between them in an instant, running his fingers along your skin. It feels strangely electric…not his fingers on you, but his arm against yours, the side of his sweat-sheened body against your hip, what it feels like to see “Thanks for today” on his collarbone and your name and lipstick mark tattooed on the other side of his neck forever. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joost’s voice—“Why aren’t you saying my name, hm?” he says, gazing at your lips, his nose brushing against yours. You press a chaste kiss to his chin as he circles your clit, spreading your wetness around with his fingers. “It’s mean. It is sinister, what you’re doing.” 

“You’re gonna have to work for it, I’m serious.” 

“I will work overtime, I’ll be just like you,” he smirks, and shuts you up when he attaches his lips to yours, slips his middle fingers inside of you, grinds the heel of his hand on your clit as you gasp into his mouth, let him move down and suck at your jaw, your pulse point. 

The concentration it takes not to lose it makes your eyebrows knit together. He murmurs, “Do you hear that, my love? Do you hear how wet I make you?” says it into your open and mewling mouth, the sound of it all—the squelch of your wetness at the behest of his fingers fucking your pussy. You’re beholden to him, and he enjoys it so much. The person you are at work and in life; normally so collected, preferring the comfortable quiet of your life together, now so bold to let him do this. 

“Wat een mooi geluid, mijn meisje. You have me under your spell—what will happen when everyone hears this? Your siren song, hm? Is that what you want? Everyone to know how good I make you feel?” 

The surprise on everyone’s faces that you could sound like this, all because of Joost—goofy, grinning, laughing Joost. Serious as ever about coaxing these sounds out of you as he kisses you slowly, tongue so languid on yours, tempting you, seducing you into giving him what he wants. 

You’re almost delirious, the bubbling of laughter rising in your body as you grip onto his arm, so big, three of Joost’s thick fingers nestled inside of you and curling against your spot, stroking it with no abandon. You’re stretched thin around him, squirming and twitching with the rising peak coming to a head in your body. 

He doesn’t even thrust his middle fingers in and out of you; only keeps them there, deep and to the knuckle inside of your pussy as he curls his fingers inside of you again and again, petting and petting and petting at the most sensitive part inside of you. At the same time, he circles your clit with his thumb—you could almost pass out with how good it feels, how hot you are in this room, rain beating on your roof, his mouth on yours and receiving every single moan and breath you put out. 

The only thing absent is a crackling fire and a bottle of wine to fit the mood, but you can’t really complain. 

“Happy?” he asks, smiling. 

“Joost,” you choke out, eyebrows furrowing as you gaze at him, then close your eyes, touching your forehead to his, clutching his bicep, the challenge to yourself not to say his name all but forgotten. 

“Yeah, baby?” Joost grins—in the pursuit of his craft, your boyfriend has turned evil. 

“I feel like…” you start, face screwed in pleasure, words stolen from you by his curling fingers, confused at this feeling inside of you you’ve never felt before. “I just feel…” 

“What is it, baby?” Joost teases, fucking into you, devilish. “Can you tell me? Can you use your words, like I’ve been asking you to?” 

“I’m gonna…” 

Burning hot and building up and up and up inside of you, in your stomach, in your chest, your tired thighs tensing the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens and tightens until it snaps, hard and fast; you don’t even realize the curses and almost chanting of his name tumbling out of your mouth as you look down and see—

Clear liquid runs down from your pussy, down your ass as you groan out, a punched out moan tumbling from your lips. The wet squelch around his still moving fingers even louder now—oh my god? There’s wetness beneath you now, a small laugh of disbelief coming from Joost as you gush all over his fingers and hand and writhe with your powerful climax, the bed under you wet, the comforter wet, everything wet, and all because of Joost. 

You whine and he nods, smiling at you. “Schatje…I didn’t think it would work…”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, half laughing and half embarrassed at the mess you’ve made, panting and completely out of breath. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?! Mijn schat, that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I think.” He takes his fingers out of you with a sound that makes you cringe, and holds his hand in the air, fingertips dripping with your wetness, shiny and slick. You had no idea you could even do that, let alone feel whatever white hot pleasure was ripping through you while you did, and you laugh at his amazement with your hands over your mouth. 

“We’ll have to change the sheets again,” you pout once you realize—you just changed them yesterday before he got here, and the other set of sheets is dirty. Ughhhhh. 

“I’ll wash the other sheets—I would change them a million times over if it meant you doing that again.”

“We’ll run out of sheets before that happens, Joost.” He hates changing the sheets, but he’s so desperate for it, obviously. 

“I’ll make new ones,” Joost says proudly, then kisses you. “Please don’t worry about the bed. I’ll take care of it, and to be honest, I would like you to mess it up even more.” Kiss on your lips. Your worries have melted away with it. “You were so good to me, yet I still didn’t get my song. Tell me, why is that, mijn schat? You want me to torture you for longer?” he says softly, kissing you on the lips. 

“It’s not torture,” you breathe out and Joost laughs. “I said your name, what more do you want from me?” 

“It’s not torture? Is that right?” he asks, and you nod, coming up to kiss him again,  “I want to be inside you, lieverd, that’s what I want.” 

Only now do you notice that he’s hard again—the same hand he used to finger you wrapped around his cock, your wetness his lubrication alongside the precum drooling from his tip. “That’s what you’ll get, then,” you say, sweet and smiling and so ready for it even after Joost has had his way with you for what feels like hours now. 

It’s your wetness that’s darkened Joost’s arm hair and the hair on his stomach; your wetness facilitating his sharp sighs as he pleasures himself to the sight of you, the thought of you, the sound of you. 

Beaming, Joost turns away to the side. “If it isn’t obvious to you, the audience,” he says into the microphone in a silly voice. “This is the first time I’ve made her squirt, and she still wants me so bad!! What the fuck!! I am sooo so lucky!!! What amazing sight, wow. Shoutout lieverd, for real!!” Your laugh is sure to be captured in the background, your small “Shoutout Joosti!” too. Joost turns back to you—”My one in a trillion, baby,” a kiss to your lips, your body being laid on the damp sheets again and your legs opening in response. 

“mijn_schatje_loml_voor_altijd_TANTUPLSDONOTLISTEN.mp3” has been running for 1 hour, 33 minutes, 8 seconds, 3 milliseconds—feels like so much longer. Joost lies between your legs again on his stomach, his cheek on your thigh, his calves in the air swinging and happy and him batting his eyelashes at you “innocently.” “Dickhead,” you laugh, knowing he wants to put his tongue on you again, and he laughs too. 

“Your favourite one, though, right?” 

“Yes, my favourite one.” You roll your eyes at his giggles but smile nonetheless at him. “I want you inside me, Joosti, don’t make me wait, please.” 

Joost holds up a finger—“One criticism—”

“Already?!” you exclaim. “What is it?” 

Joost gets up off of you and goes to the dresser to the side of your bed. You tilt your head in confusion—there isn’t much in there he could need for the rest of this, but he seems to be determined. “I think it’s the cutest thing when you call me Joosti and I never want you to stop doing that,” he starts, rummaging through the drawer. “But I think for the sake of the song, or your part in it, it would be better if you just said ‘Joost.’ Can you do that?” 

“I can do that, Joost,” you tease, your perfectionist musician of a boyfriend coming out in full force. 

“Good, good, schat. Now can you say it while I’m using this on you?” 

Joost turns around holding…Ole Reliable, the name you both call a taupe vibrating wand that was your best friend before you two started dating, is your best friend when he’s gone for longer than a month or two and your fingers aren’t enough when you two are FaceTiming…to Joost’s absolute displeasure. When he’s home, it hides in your underwear drawer—but trust, he knows where it is. 

“Be serious, Joost,” you laugh in disbelief. There’s no way that Ole Reliable will be part of this with how much lighthearted vitriol Joost has treated it in the past, calling it his “mortal enemy,” his “biggest competition.” This isn’t real. 

“It takes you like, 3 hours to cum after I’ve made you cum so many times, this will help,” he shrugs, and he’s right. You’re so overstimulated at this point that he’d have to fuck you for longer to get you over the edge, but the vibrator is a bit overkill—it’s powerful, and you’ve made your own legs shake with it countless times, with or without Joost. 

“I think I’ll end up…squirting—ew, I hate that word—even more if you use it.”

“It’s not so bad of a word, mijn schat. And either way—bed is already dirty. Why not go all out so we don’t have to clean up again?” 

Joost makes a good point, and you know he’ll want to see more of your newfound ability later on—minimizing the cleanup later sounds good, so you lie back, open your legs, run your fingers through your wet folds as his eyes widen at your eagerness. “Let’s go all out,” you giggle and he flops on top of you, exclaiming, “Yayyyyy!!!” 

It’s slow, the way he hooks your legs over his thighs, long presses the button of the vibrator, presses it again once so it turns on completely, and then recoils in surprise when he presses the largest button again and again. “Whaaattt the fuck, I didn’t know there were so many patterns in it. That is crazy. You use this?! What is ‘thumping feature.’ There are so many buttons. What…” Joost looks at it in wonder, the vibrations sure to be going through his entire forearm—that thing is strong, and you know it. 

“There are only 2 buttons, Joost.”

“That is a lot to me.”

Cycling it back to the lowest, most tame setting, he places the head on your clit, gentle; you hiss at the waves coming through you, even at the lowest rate it could possibly go. “Do you like that, baby?” he asks, voice low, other hand coming down to slip a finger in your pussy. “You look like you love it.” 

Nodding, Joost takes your hand and wraps it around the handle of the wand, and you hold it against yourself as he jerks his cock between your legs, enveloping the warm head of it in your entrance. It slips in so nice—you’ve been ready for it for hours now, you'd be surprised if it didn’t just slide in. Your eyes roll back, the back of your head hitting the wire frame of your bed, the vibrations coursing through you and his big cock parting your slit. 

“Oh, fuckkk, schat,” Joost moans as he sinks into your soaking wet pussy. “So fucking wet, baby, you feel so good.” 

Breathless, you nod, as Joost glides right in; he’s thick, but you're so wet. Three orgasms and counting for you, it’s so easy now. Angling the vibrator, you move it so you can see it all—how messy it is when he pulls his hips back to adjust how he’s thrusting into you, his pubes and happy trail wet with your juices, the hair on his thighs wet as well. What a mess you’ve made. 

“Oh my god—“ he says, rolling his neck back in pleasure once he finally bottoms out inside of you, the wand pressed against his pelvis just as much as it’s pressed against yours.  Joost bites his lip, shaking his head. Not so much of a mortal enemy, after all, is it? “How do I compete with this thing…” 

“This thing could never be you, Joost,” you breathe, and it’s true. So tired, so happy, you’re a little emotional about it for some reason. 

How he holds you so warm and safe and tight, always, never a question on if he wants and loves you—he always does and always will. In bed together like this, sheltered from the rain in your home together, your cats scratching at the door and a whole life ahead of you; on the train giggling with each other about the middle-aged and elderly side-eyeing his barking and boisterous laughter; in club bathrooms and snow covered curbs and swimming pools in your backyard and the couch downstairs. 

The rest of the world should be envious about what you have, who you hold. Joost, this house, that audio recording, and you, forever. 

“Hehe!” Joost leans over to the microphone and gloats into it, “Me—1! Vibrator—zeroooo! Hahahahah!” 

You laugh—and this, forever. You could never trade this in. 

Pulling Joost in, you kiss him sweet and slow, little thrusts of him inside of you as he moans into your mouth incessantly, every breath of his a whimper, it must feel so good—buried balls deep in your pussy, vibrator against your clit and pressed against the few centimeters of shaft that can’t fit in you when he begins thrusting inside of you sloppily, the hollow clap of his hips against you filthy as you moan out his name against the humming backdrop of the toy you're using together. 

Every nerve in your body winds itself tight around the coil in your stomach as he fucks into you, a smooth and steady rhythm that makes you lose yourself, trying to wrap yourself around him, wanting to devour him whole, wanting to make it so it’s just you and him and no one else in the world, no one outside these walls, no one else. With Joost breathing into your mouth, his sweaty bangs tickling your forehead, the taste of his tongue on yours—there might as well be no one on this earth except you and him. 

“I can't do it, Joost, it’s too much,” you whine as he keeps driving into you—god, you want it so badly, but three and a half orgasms later and you’re entirely spent, letting him do all the work as you moan loudly, no control over yourself or your body. The vibrator is pressed flush against your clit and gets you to the precipice faster than you’d like right now. 

“You can do it, baby,” he coos, and you know there’s no way to get out of this. Either way, you wouldn’t want to, legs wrapped around him, the buzzing of the vibrator such music to your ears, the feeling of his cock driving into you and Joost, a warm and heavy and perfect weight atop you. As you claw at his shoulders, his back, he holds you open with his strong hands, your squirming no match for his strength with every deep seat of his cock inside of you. “I know you can, you can do it.” 

When he says it, you believe it; you have to bite and suck at his neck in order to focus on keeping it together long enough for him to cum, apologizing to Lola in your head at your treatment of her, how she’ll be blooming purple and red by the time the sun rises tomorrow. Joost ruts into you, pressing the vibrator hard to your clit and it’s so…it’s so much, the mattress squeaks with how spirited his hips are against you, loud slaps of skin against skin and your name, his name, intertwined on this wavelength, on this track for everyone to hear. 

“Joost…fuck, Joost!” you cry out again and again, tears coming to your eyes with how hard and fast your orgasm rips through you, repeating Joost’s name like a prayer, an oath, gushing around him and too fucked out to kiss back properly when he licks into your mouth, grounding you back to this bed even as you sob out in pleasure, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at how amazing he’s making you feel. “I love you,” you breathe, blissed and fucked out tears streaming down your cheeks at how good it feels, all open and airy. 

“Why are you all sappy, baby? ‘Cause I’m fucking you so well?” Joost teases, pressing wet kisses to your tear stained cheeks, your mouth bitten red with his nips, his kisses all throughout this. 

“Yes, I love you, Joost,” you sniffle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer even if it means the vibrator gets pushed even harder against your aching clit. 

He laughs, continuing his feverish thrusting as he finally gives you the kiss you want. “I love you too, mijn hart.” 

You don’t notice him fumbling around on the side table as he kisses you, bringing the wired earphone from the nightstand back to your ear, your eyes widening in surprise. 

“Do you hear that, mijn schat?” The feedback, his voice, doubled and almost echoing as you hear it in real life and it plays out in your ears, delayed. You have to try and dampen the rest of your senses to focus on what you’re hearing. The slopping of his hips against your ass, the low pitched vibrations of the wand, his voice. 

Joost’s voice that distracts you until you’re snapped out of it by him pulling out, stroking his cock and panting heavily, cheeks and chest and neck pink with exertion, skin shining with sweat. “What are you doing?” you mumble. 

“You’ve already done so much, schat,” Joost breathes, and you shake your head, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. 

“Finish what we started, I want it all.” 

Obediently, Joost nods, inching himself back inside you again; it sounds so wet in your ears, the microphone capturing every gritty detail, every squelch of yours and his. 

“Schat, I wanna…fuck, I wanna cum inside you so bad,” he whines, erratic thrusting with every word, losing it again, losing the practiced, methodical musician that you know so well. Even with his whining, his voice is deep, needy, chanting your name like you moaned his. “Wanna…fuck, I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I want everyone to hear it, see it, know you’re mine…mine, mine, mine…”

“Yeah, baby?” you smile, his cheek laid against your tits as he grinds against you, then goes back for long, deep strokes inside of you. Joost groans so loud against your skin, spit and sweat on the softness of your breasts; so overwhelmed, he takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, nipping at you through his own orgasm, stuttering his hips into your pussy.

Warm ribbons of Joost’s cum paint your insides and fill you up so well, your moans finally joining his as he comes down from his high, moaning and sobbing out your name, lieverd, schat, collapsing on your chest and heaving for his breath again as you catch yours once more, satisfied with your recording together. 

“That a good enough song for you, Joost?” you smile, eyes already closing with the bliss of such a good recording session together. 

“Dutch Grammy worthy, mijn meisje,” Joost breathes, and you laugh as he reaches to the side and shuts his laptop, ending your recording. “How about another recording session later?” 

—

A month later and you’re carrying a paper bag of takeout from a few blocks down, earphones blasting a new demo from Joost and Tantu, using the spare key under Tantu’s doormat to get into his apartment from the cold. You set down the bag on the counter of his tiny kitchen, place the key back under the doormat, get three bowls together to split the takeout between, get utensils and glasses of water and what have you before you enter the bedroom studio. 

The takeout fights you tooth and nail; cheap food spilling everywhere, oil and sauce and vegetables on the counter and the rims of the bowls that you have to wipe up with the one (1. ONE!) paper towel left on the roll in the kitchen. Is this what happens when Ruby isn’t in town and they’re in album mode? You figure it must.  

You manage to wrestle it all together precariously, using every square centimeter of the one paper towel you have in your arsenal before picking up all three bowls—two of them nestled in your left arm, one of them held in your right hand. 

The door to the bedroom is closed shut—your arms are full, and you spend a few moments fussing about how to get in without having to go back into the kitchen and set down the food, but you hear Tantu and Joost’s muffled voices through the door. 

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have skipped ahead—“

“You should've never played it, Tantu!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have kept it on your desktop for anyone to see! With my name on it!” 

You tilt your head in confusion, and then knock on the door with your foot; in an instant, Tantu opens it for you, and you hear, loud and clear: “I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I w—” before Joost slams the laptop shut and says, “Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

2 fics in a few weeks!! lfg!!! i hope you enjoyed!! <3 thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) they keep me writing!! askbox anon on hereeee - juno

[vazaez]

It has come to my attention that someone has been shittalking me and twisting up My words to make me seem like a creep, so i'm here to defend myself.

Here's what they said:

Good job making me look like a piece of shit over a fic i read out of curiosity because people kept mentioning it under my art, here's the conversation in question we had on Instagram, because You didnt give three shits before sharing bits and pieces of out of context messages no one else saw, making up your own version, i don't feel bad not giving a shit about showing the whole thing because i got nothing to hide.

And since you were too much of a coward to be straight with me i'll respect your wishes and keep you anonymous too.

I will translate the conversation, word for word, and i want everyone to judge if it actually correlates to what the initial post says, get your own conclusions, i don't need to fight to defend my point.

-about the possible fanfic they're mentionin on tumblr was possibly by a usar named izosso, but that guy is a proshipper and all the other fics in the tag are really weird💀

Telling you here because my tumblr account doesnt let me comment

•i saw them lol and i blocked izosso, but theres another fic by someone else [literally the only one of the ship that wasnt posted by izosso] who isnt a proshitter [as far as i know] and the fic is relatively good

-send me the link

•some things didnt really sit right with me but over all it's pretty good, they describe the dynamic almost the same as i imagined it skhd

It has a lot of smut, i just let you know because maybe that content is not your cup of tea

-going into the wild kratts Tag in AO3 is like playing the Russian roulette

Just send it to me to see what it's about

•yeah 😭 that's why i found it so weird so many people talking about the same fic

(I send the link) Here it is

-ahh yeah i found this one but i found the food sex tag weird

(Replying to my prev message) Me too

• ah yes, but it's not that much, it was put there more like a caution but no one stuck any food down any holes fortunately 🙏(clearly joking btw)

Well, besides the mouth

-thank god lol

Lmao hey out of curiosity, can i know what about it was it that you didnt like? I found it weird to see Chris as a bottom because i can't imagine him like that

•oh yeah no i do see it, he's too much of a diva 💔 (also clearly a joke?? Are we serious??) what i dislike the most is that Zach acts super weird

And the fact that there is smut at all, because it's a topic that causes me a lot of debate because he's a self insert and all

So i don't know how to feel about it, but it is well written at the very least lol

-same, it's like a 50/50 , in any case i think the fandom is gonna to form a dispute because there's a Lot of artists who font like that and when that happens i'm gonna be like Italy during WW2 lol

And yeah that thing with Zach was really weird *proceeds to call the police*

•LMAO yeah, i just try to not touch that topic much because it could always cause problems

Now where did i ever mention that i consume that content because i like it? Where did i ever sound like "an average Fujoshi"? When i very clearly said that what threw me off about the fic was the fact that there was smut at all

If what made you nauseous enough to try to ruin me was that i jokingly said he was a diva then i don't even fucking know what to tell you ??

The same curiosity you had to come and ask me for the link was the one that caused me to give the fic a try in the first place, so am i really more to be judged than you when we did the exact same thing??

Im an adult, i don't appreciate you going around saying "she still has some years for her brain to develop so i'll have faith!!" Like i'm some sort of idiot, you're barely a year older than me so be serious.

And i don't need you to go to some rando's asks to shit talk me and confess you had plans to talk crap about me to my friends because you had your own conclusions from a very specific conversation, and act like i was the one who still needs to get her shit together

Like what even is your point-?

Check yourself

And to call me a hypocrite on top of it all,,, just unbelievable

Who really is the hypocrite?

[ask-train-trio]

~.~.~𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 ~.~.~

INTRODUCTION MASTERPOST!!!!!

(ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ɢɪꜰ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʟᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙɪɢ ᴏᴏᴘs)

This is an askblog for @lunozapp 's Indigo Park OCs! This post contains everything you need to know about this ask blog/AU and its characters! Context, boundaries, references etc. Asks are contextualised a little differently here, so check the blog description for the tl;dr on the context.

Check out issue 1 here!

CONTEXT:

This is DappleTilez24, also known as Tilez. He's a relatively small streamer in his universe's indigo park community, and is known for tirelessly completeing run after run, trying to beat his personal records (with.... varying sucess).

One day, he tries to speedrun a build of the game that he's never seen before...

...and stumbles across 2 MORE Rambleys than usual, much to the surprise - and confusion - of the Rambley we know and love!

Naturally, our hero Tilez is pretty damn confuddled... so he (mistakenly) asks his live chat for an explaination.

This is where YOU fantastic askers come in!

You act as Tilez's live chat. This means you don't even have to answer his queries, just say whatever you want to this interdimentional triplet of trash pandas, just like a REAL insufferable livechat would!

...within reason, of course (jokes aside, please read the boundaries)

[updated as of 04/07/24] CHARACTER REFERENCES: (in the animation i forgot twimbly's GT badges lol)

CHARACTER BOUNDARIES:

I want to make it entirely clear that i see the raccoon trio as brothers, especially with their very similar origins.

This is to say that I would not feel comfortable with any of them being shipped with eachother and I forbid the public sharing of that kind of content. If you see that kind of stuff around, please just mention this to the OP and block them if they refuse to respect it.

FURTHERMORE, please keep in mind that I ( @lunozapp ) am a MINOR. SO DON'T PUBLICLY POST NSFW/FETISH ART OF MY CHARACTERS, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

However, shipping Twimbly, Ranglore, Rambley and Tilez with other characters that aren't related to them is fine by me (e.g. any of the original indigo characters x any of them, since they're not related)!

Again, please just keep it sfw.

ASK BOUNDARIES:

Pretty basic criteria, really. Just please don't spam the same ask over and over, I will guaranteed see them all unless this thing gets an explosion of attention out of nowhere lol

if i don't answer, its probably because either the question doesn't really fit the kind of story i have in mind for these characters or i just don't feel comfortable answering it. please respect that.

If you have a question for me specifically, start your ask with '[OOC]' (Out Of Character) or just ask me directly: @lunozapp

FURTHER INFO:

Asks are moreso used here as a prompt for conversation rather than the basis of an entire issue. More often than not there will be more than 1 ask in an issue, so going forward I'll make sure to tag everyone who asks without annonymity.

Also, please TRY to keep them as actual questions and not goofy 1-word sentences, the asks help me actually formulate a coherent premise for an issue

I don't OWN the concept of making ocs based off lore.mp4 and the GT thumbnail. if u see someone doing the same, try not to be all like 'OMG TWIMBLY/RANGLORE!!!! THEY ALREADY EXIST THIS IS PLAGARISM YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!!!!11!!11' unless it is blatant plagarism. Just use ur common sense ig

In terms of fanart/other fanworks, A MILLION THANKS IF YOU FEEL CALLED TO MAKE THAT!! The stuff i've gotten so far is genuinely so awesome, make it all you want if you feel called to do so. I'll try to reblog any fanart I find on here. If you want to go straight to asks, just click on the tag '#train trio asks'

alright, that's everything. Now what are you still doing here? Throw 'em a question! Or a compliment!! Or an insult.

or don't idrc just have fun here haha

fun fact!! putting everything together for this took a WEEK

[mugzymiik]

LAST UPDATED: May 5 2025 - LATEST UPDATE: added to fandoms list + added to the misc facts thing

important

fandom reblog acc: @glistenliker69

HI HELLO!!! call me Gold. or October or Bug. those r my names but idgaf what im called as long as i can recognize it as me :D (pls don't call me Mugzy though)

i am bigender (transmasc + demigirl)!! probably!! gender has been hard lately!!!!!

he/they + any neopronouns

est timezone

reblog acc: @glistenliker69

DNI:

homophobics, transphobics, misogynists, racists, sexists, pretty much anyone whos bigoted and/or just an asshole

people who are under 13 (im an older teenager and i dont feel comfortable interacting online with people who arent even SUPPOSED to be online yet)

people who are or support transrace/transabled/transage/transx/transid/whatever the fuck

proshippers

pedophiles

users or supporters of ai """"art""""

supporters of cryptocurrency/nfts of any kind

drama stirrers

supporters/friends of cintagonisupet

supporters/friends of hxngr/constant_hungr/hungry_starving/whatever the fuck he goes by now.

supporters of mirei touyama animations/brebear jones

people named Ry*n or Q**nn. sorry hhh

people who obsess over Dead by Daylight. i have real bad experiences with a person who really likes that game- i wont say full-on dni if you like it because thatd be pretty damn stupid, but if you constantly post about it please dont interact. please also tag it, its a trigger

^same as above, but with Forsaken from Roblox. it's too similar to DBD, also a trigger

trump supporters.

18+ only blogs (im a minor)

byi/remember:

im a minor !!

i have autism, adhd and anxiety, among other things. im heavily disabled in general and i also joke about that a lot- if you dont like it lol sucks to suck , its my experiences to cope with not yours

‼️‼️‼️PLEASE!!! PLEASE!!! DO NOT USE BUG IN ANY SORT OF AUS/STORIES WITHOUT PERMISSION!!!‼️‼️‼️ DRAWING HER IS ABSOLUTELY FINE OF COURSE AND I'LL EVEN LET YOU COME UP WITH HEADCANONS/DECIDE TO GIVE YOUR OC SOME (NON-CANON) RELATIONS TO AER- BUT DO. NOT. USE. HER. FOR. ANYTHING. PERSONAL. WITHOUT. ASKING. I BEG. i do NOT trust very many people to portray her correctly, so if we're not close/i dont know you very well its likely going to be a no to if you can use her or not (there are some special cases however /gen-); im really sorry if this seems rude but she is genuinely a HUGE comfort to me and i feel REALLY uncomfortable when people decide to do their own thing with them without permission and/or keeping me updated

i have a hard time reading situations so if i say anything bad/unneeded/confusing PLEASE let me know i /srs do NOT mean any harm to anyone 😭-

tone tags r needed aaa

NO WARPED FACIAL BODY HORROR AROUND ME PLEASE

i am a childish freak <3

i embrace my cringe (even if i get embarrassed about it sometimes /silly). if i find you going out of your way to harass me or anyone i know for being """cringe""" I'll spam your askbox with OwOs and UwUs i am being completely fucking /srs.

i ignore unsolicited dms from people i dont know too well unless it's important

sometimes i delete asks if i dont know how to respond to them ;; i apologize

i block people who make me uncomfortable

i have a slight tendency to be super dramatic when im upset/distressed- please ignore me whenever i do this, theres an 80% chance I don't actually believe the things i say at those times

i don't really get genuinely aggressive unless someone gets aggressive first- however this has led to a few situations because I Can Not Read Tone Well. please clarify if you mean things in a joking way-

^^^one exception to this is when someone is doing something that's like. wrong. (eg bullying/harassing or being a dick in general or something else Bad) even then i try to stay civil, but still aggressive to the point where i can get my point across. if that makes sense. i can control myself i prommie /sillygen

i have really bad memory issues so if you've been wanting something from me (AND you've already make it clear that you want it; i cannot read your mind y'know /lh) and i haven't gotten to it yet in a bit please gently remind me about it and i will get to it when i can

if i forget to cw tag anything & its absolutely needed please let me know- as said above, i am Very Forgetful

my fandoms:

the pink corruption/tpc

just shapes and beats/jsab

warriors

stray

dandy's world

other smaller hyperfixations, some of which come and go

my tags:

#mmmramblez (rambles)

#art + #animation/#writing/#shitpost

#ask

#drawing ideas + #for later

#kinposting

my fandom tags:

#tpc shorts but also not [tpc]

#golds tpc designs [tpc] (posts with the original tag will be edited with this one soon)

#tpc episode [tpc] (i download tpc eps and put em in a google drive bc i REFUSE to give brebitch more views.)

#trongle stash [tpc + jsab] (if you dont want your posts/art in this tag please let me know & ill remove it/try to remember to not put your stuff in it)

#tpc cats end [tpc]

my au tags:

#bugverse (my main au; basically a tpc rewrite, in a way)

#shattered body but not spirit au (ghost Tsavorite)

#the snake hero au (spy Gold)

#fracture au (corrupted Gold, and the aftermath)

#tpc forest fire au (Bug snaps.) ‼️HEAVY TW. FF IS NOT A FEEL GOOD AU.‼️

#bug-gold swap au

#shapes but the wrong kind au (Gold and Bug except i throw them into Minecraft: Story Mode 👍)

#dubby's world au (BugVerse x Dandy's World)

my blogs:

@pinkcorruption-verysillyedition (tpc incorrect quotes; submissions are always open, probably looking for mods too if it gets active again 😭)

@lemonboynotcavetown (Gold rp blog, very headcanon-heavy)

@8sided-insect (BUG RP BLOG!!!)

@pinkcorruptionconfessions (tpc confessions :D)

@tpc-bugverse

(there r other ones but uhh im not listing em theyre REALLY inactive </3

FRIENDS & MOOTS!!!!! <333:

The Goobers <3

@darkhatkid - the square to our triangle, pentagon and circle 🩵

@many-faced - the pentagon to our square, triangle and circle 💚

@/m00nlit_sage - the circle to our square, triangle and pentagon 🧡

other friemds that are Just As Cool!!! :D

@trash-jsab

@paw-ureyesout

@kitcatttt

@comet--storm

@anonymously-night

@cielos-pasteles

@astronic-fr

@lavthequad

@orchuris

@1nto-the-zone

@cyberrcyanide

@greenpentagon

@taxi-dummy

@cowboytorrenter

@tasty-eggs

@streetmurder

@thesealantern

@frozen-treachery

@octahedral-chaos

@makothedorito

@coresystem

@lesboyajaceare

@snakeualzayden

@fandomt4keover

@something-named-vexxie

@packitupkittycat

me other socials:

discord: @/mugzymiik

youtube: @/mugzymiik

bluesky: @/mugzymiik.bsky.social

instagram: @/mugzymiik

deviantart: @/MugzyMiik

toyhouse: @/MugzyMiik

toyhouse (au edition): @/goldenuniverses

art fight: @/MugzyMiik

sheezy.art: @/MugzyMiik

strawpage: @/mugzymiik

linktr.ee: @/MugzyMiik

roblox: @/MugzyMiik (*i do not have any active alts, and i have no alts with usernames similar to my own. ive had a problem with impersonation before so please tell me if you see someone else claiming to be me and their username is NOT "MugzyMiik")

pixel cats end: @/MugzyMiik

pokefarm: @/MugzyMiik

my discord server!!! (*if youre coming from any of my dandy's world posts, PLEASE ask to join beforehand. i have nothing against any of you /gen, i am just Very Scared Of The Fandom)

tpcblr discord server! (not mine)

miscellaneous stuff i also wanna say cus why not:

i am a Very Heavy Kinnie of Gold from TPC and the triangle player from JSaB :D and also Bug (tpc oc) too

^my headcanons go for Gold Kin™ too :help: i feel.....snak.

^i am perfectly fine with doubles ofc!! in fact I really like interacting with other kins of the same character its Very Inch Restin'™, its like looking in a mirror! /vsilly

i fucking love cheese and ranch

#1 Mother Mother fan

believe it or not my favorite animal is cats not snakes

im so normal about triangles trust

i own hit tpc oc Bug hi /silly

i love everything you hate and/or cringe at :)

I AM A SELFSHIPPER WITH GLISTEN FROM DANDY'S WORLD i love him so much i NEED to kiss him

other stuff:

art Status

commissions: closed with exceptions (cashapp is currently fucking me over the head with receiving money)

art trades: open

requests: closed, only open at times when i say theyre open

art info

commission information (DM ME)

other post shit i made

my tpc headcanons

tpc google drive

squeemsh

TPC SHOWDOWN

divider credits

[aerodaltonimperial]

an update, of sorts. it's almost the two-year anniversary of me writing my first jack/darby fic (4/20), and i guess i have thoughts.

it's... kind of unbelievable that this rarepair that didn't exist before i got my grubby hands on it is what it is now? the two of them barely had much of anything on ao3: 200 fics, if anything, and at least half where they were just tagged as a background character. it took months before jack's tag even had his own pairing as the number one pairing inside because he played second fiddle in so many hookhausen fics. they were not fandom darlings, and they continue to not be fandom darlings, and i guess i'm really happy that i could create fics where they both got to be main characters, and complex, and nuanced, and just... three-dimensional. i'm actually really happy that i could do that for them. i've had a really nice time writing about them and coming up with ideas, and obviously, i got incredibly lucky that they ended up feuding and having so much content last year.

but obviously, my relationship with writing has been fundamentally changed from the massive and all-encompassing failure of me trying to be traditionally published. some days, i'm okay, and fic is enough. others, i'm not okay. it comes in waves. i suspect it will always come in waves, and i'm clearly still dealing with the lingering fallout issues in my head from all of that. it's hard. it's hard when i'm still seeking validation that my writing is worth something, and i'm in a really small fandom, writing about not-super-popular characters. i suppose i didn't really pick the best place to find that validation, lol. i'm very slowly and very carefully working my way back into reading actual books, which, depending on what i try to read, can trigger me into a week-long depression. that's really, really hard. i used to read over a hundred books a year, books were my life. and i don't read anymore, because all it does is remind me of what i couldn't do. i'm trying, but it's hard, and it takes a lot out of me sometimes.

and with fic? this fandom is really tough. look, i'm not the end-all, be-all of characterization. i've never claimed to be. and to be honest, i've been really ostracized by a large section of fans in these two's spheres because of reasons i don't even know when all i've ever tried to be was friendly. and, like, fine. okay. they don't like what i write, that's fine. all i do is sit quietly in my corner, and write my silly fics, and people fucking hate me for it. i never called it out. i never put people on blast. i just let all the vague-posting go, and quietly blocked, and again, no one has to like what i write. i try to be really positive in fandom, and read a lot more widely than i write, and hype up artists, and you know that meme post we used to quote all the time, i came here to have a good time and i'm honestly feeling so attacked right now? well, laughter aside, that's kinda been fandom for me the last couple of months. i keep seeing wrestling discords go around, and i would love to fucking find a community, but i can't go in those things, because the people who hate me inevitably end up being in there already. if tumblr goes down? i don't really have much. as it turns out, i'm pretty... frustrated. with all of that.

i don't really know where i'm going with this. i didn't mean to make this pairing so all-encompassing that it's hard to extract them from it to write them with anyone else. i clearly never came in aiming to destroy other people's happiness just by posting fics (though CLEARLY i did that, given the vague posting last year). i just really like their dynamics, and the possibilities, and the complexities of the kayfabe stories they carry with them, and them as people. all i ever wanted to do was explore all that, and write some silly stories. it's been a rough few months. i hope i stay here and write, because they deserve to have more fics written about their characters, and quite frankly, i deserve to have one positive space for writing, where i don't matter in any real way and i'm just doing something out of love. i've made some truly lovely friends in fandom, and i hope i can figure out a way to not feel quite so negative about the space in general. i don't even know why people are so mad about my fics, lol, i'm lucky to hit 20 kudos these days. who am i even hurting???

anyway. tl;dr. no one cares, katy lol. happy two years, skategoat. you've come a long way, babes. i'm sorry you got me as your ambassador, who seems to have continuous, stupid mental health issues and can't fucking do anything right to save her life. you both deserve better lol.

[nightofnyx8]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Wrapup

No one tagged me in this, but I wanted to do it anyway. Though a harder year for me in terms of writing, I still want to celebrate everything I did accomplish.

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024? 86,650! Surprisingly, despite my severe writer's block, it's the most I've ever written in one year.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

Oops. In all fairness, I have three ongoing longfics, and I plan to finish two of them next year! Song of the Raven might take a little longer to finish.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

I started two this year, As Time Goes By and The Color of Truth! Along with Song of the Raven, those fics should keep me pretty busy in 2025 (that is, if I don't add a cowboy AU like I've wanted to do for forever lol)

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

I loved writing As Time Goes By. I adore historical fiction so, so much. In fact if I ever wrote an original work, it would 100% be some historical romance, I can't get enough of it. Unfortunately that's when my writer's block started hitting really hard, as it reminded me too much of my grandfather's death this summer. The fic has become really personal, but my grief has moved to the point where I can open the document and remember his memory without that constant ache in my heart, and it is my hope to honor him by finishing the fic. @nallhir also finished the most lovely artwork for this fic as well that I'm just so excited to share.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I did a Twisters fic. I did. Without shame. And though I don't know if I'll continue it, I adored combining my love of the American Midwest with my very slight obsession with Glen Powell.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

The reception to Song of the Raven will forever surprise me. I started that fic as a passion project, and the support and love for that fic has humbled me greatly. It's become my workshop fic, so to say, where I can really experiment with prose, characterization, and even delving into smutty writing. I've loved the journey so far.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

I love my marriage in a bottle collection. Post-reveal twiyor is and always will be one of my favorite tropes.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

@nallhir @roucaelum-art @aerequets @ideksams and of course @smaii_i on twitter

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@firewoodfigs, my darling friend, I've loved each and every one of your works this year, even between two fandoms! And though I don't often have the time to truly express how much I adore your fics, please know that I read and cherish every one. I've also loved reading incoming twiyor authors on twitter! @julyorr, @brefhottub, @smiledarnyou, @deluloid and my dear patty had such fun fics this year!

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

To @bloomingdarkgarden and @pinkrasberryfish -- we hardly know each other, I know, but your beautiful elriel works have made me fall in love with writing all over again. I could cradle your beautiful words in the palms of my hand. Thank you for giving Elain and Azriel such beautiful stories, and for helping me get over my own writer's block. I adore your fics so, so much.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

@nallhir-I love you. If I could commission you for every twiyor scene I ever wrote, I would do it a hundred times over.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

I think I've finally found my voice in my writing. I've spent a lot of time studying other author's prose and experimenting their styles within my own stories, but this year, I'm happy to look back at my fics and think, "yeah. that's me. And I'm proud of that."

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Writing is a process, and sometimes writing styles can change. Some stories call for more delicate prose, and some are more plot-driven. There is no shame in creating something beautiful to me (especially for free haha). If it heals my soul, then it doesn't have to be perfect.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Whatever you want to write about, write it. It doesn't matter if it's the 500th college AU in the fandom. It doesn't matter if you think your prose is too flowery or too structural or blocky. It doesn't matter if you have a crazy idea that won't leave your head. Write it. Your words matter.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

I honestly just want to write every day, no matter how much or little. That may mean writing in my personal journal or in my poetry journal, but I spend so much time as a teacher giving of myself and absorbing other people's emotions, that I think it's good for me to spend some time giving something back to myself as well. I think I'll write an elriel fic this year...something for me :) I adore them too much.

Tagging @firewoodfigs @roseofbattles and anyone else who'd like to <3

[twig-tea]

oh my god if you don't like wandee goodday let it fucking go already or at least don't put it in the tag, as if you're not watching so much worse lol

I'll take this opportunity to remind folks that tumblr is an experience you can and should curate for yourself!

If you don't like what someone has been saying about a particular show, you have options: You can unfollow or mute them for a period of time, or filter their specific tags. If you don't like what I have to say, for example, but still want to follow me for the other content I reblog, you can mute the tag I use for all of my original content, "typed so that I can stop thinking it". Block people who engage with content in ways you don't enjoy. You can always check back in and unblock or unmute later, it doesn't have to be dire or permanent.

If you don't want to read negative posts, when a post starts "I'm going to be talking negatively", stop reading. Why do that to yourself?

I don't agree with the philosophy of leaving critical commentary untagged, so my advice on this one is: Don't assume a shared tag will be curated for your taste. As general etiquette goes, if you're shitposting a show I can understand leaving the tag off, and I wouldn't tag e.g. a ship name if I were to talk negatively about an actor in that ship, but serious engagement with a show deserves to be in the tag for that show whether or not it's positive. I like thinking critically about the media I consume, and sometimes that means I'll have negative things to say. I for one find it useful to see the negative comments in a tag alongside the positive; if I'm going into the tags, I want to know what folks are saying in general, not just on the positive side.

[Slight aside re: which shows I choose to publicly criticize. I do consider the origin of the media when deciding what to say about it, but one of the largest media conglomerates in Thailand doesn't need protection from my opinion. So in the case the original anon is referring to here, I weighed the positive benefit of having like-minded folks commiserate with my experience and weigh in with their own insight over the potential pitfalls of highlighting the negatives in, for example, a show that really needs a signal boost in order for anyone to even know it exists. If I'm being negative about a show on main and tagging it, it's generally because I either wanted to warn folks or wanted to commiserate with like-minded people. Again, if you don't want to see that, there are options available to you as per above!]

Finally, if you get rude anonymous asks, consider turning them off. [I wanted to own here that the onus is on me as well to similarly curate my own experience as needed.]

[rottenpumpkin13]

I just wanted to say (bc I saw the problem with ppl being attacked through asks) I genuinely love your posts. They cheer me up. At first I saw your acc bc my friend thought huh strange someone has the same name, age, interest, and pronouns as me and legit asked if it was me. Since being introduced (for context I work a corporate 9-5 job) every time I see notifications of you posting I’m running to see. You’re honestly one of my favorite accounts. I hope you’re doing okay. Taking the necessary rest/recovery.💗

I randomly clicked on a blog that liked one of my posts one day and saw "Elle, 22, she/they" in the bio 😚 I wonder if it was you, because if not we need to make an "Elle, 22, she/they" club immediately because there might be more of us lol

I've gotten my fair share of rude anons this year, but nothing recently. I try not to reply to them both for my sake and that of the people who come onto my blog because they want a mini escape from whatever it is that they're going through, so maybe that's why it's cooled down a bit. People tell me this blog cheers them up, so I take it seriously and try to make it a fun place, and that's what it was for me up until a while ago.

Lately it seems that everyone is having to deal with what looks like one very pathetic person who is so desperate for attention that they feel the need to try and disrupt everyone's peace. It's sad—sad for the person who has such a disgusting personality that they feel the need to do this, and mostly sad for people I care about getting hit with this wave of senseless hate.

And it shouldn't be like this. People should have the right to exist in their safe space without armor and a sword to fight off trolls and people who make fandom uninhabitable. I should have the right to post my stuff without being told to "stop polluting the tags." Person X should have the right to post without fearing they're saying something wrong. Person Y should be able to share what makes them happy without feeling unsafe in their own community. Person Z should be able to enjoy fandom without dealing with drama spurred by hateful people. And yet here we are. The block button is there. If you don't like someone, you don't have to interact with them. Plain and simple.

I started feeling burnt out a while ago, but it has nothing to do with anon hate or anything of the sort. I guess it's a culmination of my irl problems spiralling out of control this year coupled with stuff I've experienced on here ever since I started this blog. I think the only thing keeping me here is people still sending asks (because talking to you guys is so much fun), and the really great friendships I made through this fandom.

Thanks for checking in 💚

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Saw you still took fandom asks (hope you still do).

One thing I've been really, really hating is that leftists have all the major social media sites on their side, including the ones most commonly used for fandom stuff (Tumblr, Twitter/X, and others), and I don't like the cultures in any of these spaces, so I've migrated to fan-created sites and spaces that, while older, are still active. I like these spaces more because other than the standard "don't be an asshole" rule, people are free to speak and write however they like and it's been this way since these spaces began because they're not under the heavy hand of censorship like social media is. I'm also in very apolitical fandoms because I don't like my entertainment lecturing me.

I haven't been on these sites or in these fandoms as long as other fandom veterans have (about five years or so), but I understand and like how they operate. Unfortunately, I've seen more and more stories being posted of "[character] bashes the fash!" or [character] is trans/autistic/kinnie uwu!" or profiles popping up with pronouns, DNI lists, and whatever popular leftist slogan in their bios when they weren't there before. And now they're walking around talking about how this and that is "problematic/bullying/toxic," bossing people around and doing what they do. "If you like this classic fic/writer who we've deemed Problematic™ in the current day for basically no reason then you're a bad person," stuff like that.

Another thing is that I like when writers take these cutesy slice of life shows I enjoy and flip them on their head to turn them dark and gritty because I'm also into horror/depressing stuff, and I think it's interesting to see where they take it. I'm not into smut but of course that's there too. I don't have an issue with it existing because I just ignore it since I know it's not my thing. They can write what they want. However, of course these new users take issue with this and are basically accusing people of being, like, mentally deranged or something for writing a gory/sad/smutty fic about these bright and colorful characters. "Oh, of course a man wrote this," is the most common insult, despite the fact I know of many women in the fandom(s) who have been there longer than I have and have been praised for writing/drawing/etc this exact content before the angry villagers showed up, and I'm a woman who likes the darker content. It just shows they don't look into anything at all.

It's funny though because the sites I use have likes and dislikes for both stories and comments. Since people are recognizing that these randos are trying to change these spaces to fit their wants instead of following the culture of the site(s), all of their political or virtue-signaling stories/comments get hella downvoted, so at least there's that I guess. No matter anyone's personal beliefs, they at least know not to let politics get in the way of a good fanfiction or art piece. The one thing I'll give the major fandom spaces is that at least they have the ability to block tags. The sites I use don't so I just gotta wade through all the new trash to find older good stuff.

Maybe I'm just bitching but these are the types of people who constantly tell everyone else to "go make their own spaces if you don't like the other ones," but when we do they try to take it over or get rid of it completely and it's annoying lol. Once again they don't take their own advice.

Leftists in fandom spaces are a virus. They exist solely to propagate their own views and opinions, bully everyone into following their rules, and drive out anyone who pushes back against them. And the sad thing is they're so easy to defeat. Just tell them to fuck off and kick them out. They have no power that isn't given to them. But people are so scared of being called an ist or a phobe or having mean comments astroturfed onto their works that they give in. And once they've completely ruined a space they just move onto the next one. I've seen it happen so many times, and it's always infuriating.

[raayllum]

25. a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces

I have two pieces of advice basically that loop back into each other honestly.

Don't ultimately care about what anyone else says or thinks

Not caring about or trying to manage what other people think of you or your thoughts ≠ being rude or disrespectful, that doesn't mean it never happen - tone and frustration are absolutely real and I express the latter occasionally,

Other people are gonna ship things you don't or ship the same thing but in a way you don't like or just have opinions that are coming from a fundamentally different perspective or reading of the text and... none of it really matters. You don't have to conform to popular fandom if it doesn't fit what you think (that's basically been me in every fandom But TDP, so it's quite refreshing, and even then I very much felt like a lil island in the immediate s4 aftermath), you can ship whatever you want and so can anyone else. I think the most important thing with this is being self aware, though... like yeah I could hypothetically get annoyed over characters in TDP being childish, but coming-of-age stories are about kids and maturation, so like. I can vent in the proper tags but it may just mean the show isn't ultimately for me, y'know? Or at least that it's something I gotta learn to live with if I wanna engage with the show in a way that balances the salt and the sweetness

Additionally, one of the side effects I've found of being '''popular''' within TDP fandom is that my opinion will be taken as gospel or made out to be more than what it is, which is just my subjective opinion / interpretations, the same as anyone else's. Obviously I think my opinions are Right / grounded in the text (as do many people about their own opinions, whether they align with mine or not), but that doesn't mean everyone else is wrong, like... it's a children's cartoon show, if you're getting regularly butt hurt about what other people think or if they do or don't agree with you or whether ur ideas are popular or not you're not gonna have a good time, and fandom is a hobby. It's supposed to be a good time

Avoid taking things personally at all costs

In a similar vein to "don't care what anyone else thinks/says" that goes double for what they think or say about you / what you think. For me this means that unless I get 1) name dropped or 2) something that is so specific me it couldn't apply to someone else, I assume it's not about me. "Rayllum shippers / stans are so annoying"? Not about me and even if I am annoying - isn't everyone sometimes? Being annoying isn't a death sentence lol. "I hope the fandom takes this well"? Not about me. "People who defend S4 just can't admit TDP has flaws"? Not about me. "Snake boi Callum content is so dumb" is about a tag categorization I started for Callum's characterization, but has since more than taken on a life on its own... and isn't about me.

And even when it is personal, it says a lot more about what frustrates the OP or what they're trying to potentially wrangle than it does about me. Like someone disagrees with me or thinks I'm dumb, specifically? Okay, I know I've thought that about people on occasion, I try not to post it or make it obvious, but I can't control what you do. There were a couple of ZK bnf I thought were horrendously bad at meta that I knew by name bc they were everywhere, and it just meant forming my own atla communities/tags and/or stepping away from the fandom.

On a similar note, I'm still gonna keep doing my thing and I encourage people to block me and/or blacklist tags I use if they don't wanna see my stuff. I know how annoying it can be in fandom to feel like you still see stuff you don't want to if it's everywhere, which is also why I don't put all my stuff in the main tags either, but I'm not going to Stop Posting unless I... want to, which won't be happening.

I guess this all basically amounts to:

Focus on finding your people in fandom, cause they are out there

If you find yourself being annoyed by the fandom every day, or find yourself feeling like you have to rebut every little thing that annoys you (for ex, people saying they don't like Rayllum doesn't bother me, that's a neutral opinion. Ppl saying they shouldn't be in the show feels like more of a theme misread, however) work on stepping away and letting things go

Cultivate being fucking weird and unabashedly enthusiastic with self awareness. If you love a ship or headcanon or plot point that's fucking out there or clearly not happening, fucking go for it! Make or enjoy all the stuff for it you want. That said, maintaining awareness that the story doesn't need to go there in order to be good, or that there's not a lot of plausible grounding in canon, can be important especially if you want to connect with other fans.

Like CHET is my pet theory that has also been wildly fortunate enough to get a life of its own in the TDP / Rayllum fandom(s). I've been prepared to drop it three times. I think more than ever that's where the story is going in S7, and that there's a lot of continued setup for it / Something Like It, but I could be dead wrong, and I'm sure I will love if not prefer whatever route S7 would take instead. I love it, and I have a certain amount of attachment, but the story doesn't owe it to me, similarly to how I'm not owed in fandom to have people Like what I make or make what I like

Like respect should be given for sure unless I make a routine ass of myself, but again, I've been very fortunate that some stuff has caught on as much as it has because it clicked with other people who were already thinking the same thing, or found xyz idea made a lot of sense. And that's really nice! I think it's those things that help build a community. But in fandom you kind of have to be willing to be an Island first, and then if you get stuck being an island permanently, it may be worth reflecting on why sometimes — whether it's because of aggression, shyness, preference, or no real reason except your people haven't shown up yet

[bayetea]

hi! my name is baye (she/her), and I've been a percy jackson fan since 2008 (so, when I was 8 years old... I'm 24 now!). before you follow, here are some things to know about me:

100% multishipper (I'm very open to most things, and I LOVE rarepairs)

because I'm a multishipper, don't follow me if you don't have your NOTP tag blocked; I'm not "allegiant" to any one ship, and I post about a wide variety of them!

I have zero patience for fandom immaturity. if you aren't cool/polite/normal/even-tempered in the way you interact with me, then you aren't the sort of person I'm interested in engaging with 🫶

I'm turbo ADHD and extremely bad at replying to things

I do PJO fanart! some examples (click for better quality):

I love pjo always and forever, but I'm also riordan critical (including towards characters/ships that I enjoy), and I use the #rr crit tag somewhat frequently. block it out if you don't want to see it!

I've read all pjo books, the kane chronicles, and I'm working my way through magnus chase!

I draw annabeth however I want. black annabeth haters are not welcome or appreciated here

pjo characters are almost always 20+ years old when I draw and write them. I grew up with the characters, and in my heart, they've grown up with me too. if you have a problem with that, I really do not know what to say to you beyond please use the block button - for your own wellbeing?

I don't really believe in arguing on the internet! you can reply to my posts how you want but 9/10 times I don't care enough to be doing all that sorry lol

other stuff I'm interested in/familiar with: naruto, atla, stardew valley, danganronpa, apex legends, inuyasha, princess tutu, twd, jane eyre, etc (I hardly ever post about them though)

my blog is like 80% sfw (if I'm posting adult stuff it's still pretty tame + usually under a readmore), but my blog is not specifically intended to be appropriate for minors and it is up to you to be discerning and keep that in mind! In the nicest way possible - I am not and cannot be responsible for protecting you on the internet!

I use the m-d-n-i tag (without dashes), and all minors who follow me should block it out!

[eliotquillon]

as a change of pace from the time loop fic, would you write something fluffy? drabble or hcs.

getting the sense that i have been wreaking psychological havoc on all of you given the sheer number of anon asks i've had in the past few days begging me to pause the angst and write something fluffy LMAOO. i'm working on catching up with a few drabble reqs from before chapter 3 of time loop fic was finished but have some fluffy-ish chameron hcs to tide you over:

-chase bought cameron's engagement ring WELL before cameron finds it in s5 (and subsequently has her freakout about it). more specifically, he buys the stone for it as part of a necklace set he plans to give her for their first valentine's day together (that chase also secretly counts as their one year anniversary together since that's when they started their fwb arrangement, but is sensible enough not to say as much to cameron). he changes his mind about gifting it to her at the last minute because, well, it's an expensive diamond necklace and he doesn't want to scare cameron off (or, you know, let on to the whole 'i count the day we started casually fucking as the anniversary of our actual relationship' thing) and switches out the diamond out for something less showy, but doesn't have the heart to return the original stone. on their actual one year anniversary he books the appointment to get the diamond re-set into a ring, but gets the jewellers to keep it on hold for him until he thinks she's ready to accept. it's sheer bad luck that this happens to coincide with kutner's death and makes cameron think that this was a rash spur-of-the-moment decision lol

-there's a little phase right at the start of their relationship (when they're really in the honeymoon period) where cameron makes a bunch of excuses to tag along with chase to meet his soccer friends, or the guys he sometimes plays pool with at the bar, etc etc, purely so she can hear him introduce her as 'my girlfriend allison' because she gets such a kick out of hearing him say it. she finds this deeply embarrassing and never really owns up to it but also chase is very willing to go along with it because he ALSO loves getting to introduce her as 'my girlfriend allison'

-when they're at work, they like to just sit quietly together sometimes and don't necessarily talk at lunch. a bunch of house's fellowship candidates half-convince themselves that there's no fellowship up for grabs and that chase and cameron are just PRETENDING to be together and not work for house anymore as part of some epic prank because what couple in the honeymoon period just eats together in silence?? but really it's a fun novelty for them to not have to grab every minute they get together at work because they actually see each other properly outside of it now. that said they both find that particular rumour really funny and do play into it a bit until foreman begs asks them to knock it off because he's sick of having to give out reassurances that there's (probably) a Real Job At The End Of This

-well before they ever got together (or slept with each other, even), cameron and chase used to sometimes give foreman the slip and go out for Secret Post Work Drinks together after a particularly trying day. because foreman is still the new kid on the block and they're way more comfortable bitching about house to each other after having worked together as a duo for six months on their own. (this is also partly why foreman's meddling in occam's razor gets to chase so much and he gets so flustered around cameron--chase's brain freezes and briefly goes 'oh my god wait were those dates? have i been dating cameron? does cameron want to sleep with me??'. he is secretly a bit disappointed to realise he's being fucked with)

[d1s1ntegrated]

okay guys so. here's some updates!

-my grandma died. (not sigma.)

-i got the infinite hours glitch at work (im working sm now)

-i'm broke af still cause i honestly genuinely truthfully laurv grocery shopping too much (the horrors of the economy are incomprehensible)

-i love homicipher!!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways. that's basically it. i'm trying to get back in here cause i feel so bad for all the unanswered prompts and asks in my inbox. i know i kinda flopped. im doing my best!!

also small announcement below the cut!!! especially considering ive been experimenting more with dead dove/nonconventional topics and themes.

first thing; i made a side blog for my dead dove and other extreme fics. the reason why i'm doing this is bc some people don't want to see that kind of stuff- and that's totally okay! and ik the filtering/blocking tags thing doesn't always work, especially for more "niche" topics.

i plan on branching out my repertoire by writing about topics that are "scary" or "new" to me- so this little counterpart to my blog will make it easier for me to post things that aren't typically sought after by the gen. pop. things like sickfics, whump, noncon, and other graphic or heavy themes.

in addition/addendum to that:

idk if this is common knowledge for any of my followers, moots, etc, but i have a severe phobia of vomit. like. huge. and at my big ass age of 21 (lol) i think it's time to start...getting through that fear. i've struggled with contamination OCD for a really long time and it's something i never thought id even try to overcome- but then i came across a creator on here who makes fetish art- which def wasn't something i was looking to encounter. but like a car crash, i couldn't stop looking at their work and i ended up coming across a post of theirs where they explain that they do what they do to get over their fear. at first i was fucking baffled as to how they couldn't manage to do that, but i get it now. taking something innately fucking horrifying and flipping the narrative so casually can be cathartic, and i finally after over a year of contemplation, gave it a whirl in my own writing. i mean, what better way to get over something by attacking it from my best angle??

typically this isn't something i'd ever consider doing. but...here we are. and i feel like im doing myself, and other people who feel the same way, a disservice by hiding this type of content in my notes app, never to be seen by anyone but me.

my blog has always been a safe space for the freaks and weirdos, and i want to keep facilitating that space while also keeping it enjoyable for all crowds. so by keeping a little separation between the two blogs, it'll ensure i feel comfortable, and others do too. i'm not gonna force everyone who follows me to come across some crazy fetish content they didn't sign up for, especially when previously i'd stated i don't write that kind of stuff. but alas people change and grow and i don't want to stifle myself from writing good things because im too afraid of judgement or my own insecurities.

i think kink is a very important thing in the fanfic world, because it allows the writer, as well as the audience, to connect on an even further level through the delivery of fetish content. as someone who hyperfixates on the development and accumulation of fetish and kinks, especially from a psychological level, this is something i was considering in the past- but not to this level, yk? like yeah, i could continue to just write sweet little hcs of softgaraki, and i love doing that, but also...like, i need these freak ass men to live their truths, and i need to live mine.

with that all being said, @compendiumofdecay is where these nasty fics will be for any and all who are interested.

[cornertheculprit]

how about 14, 15, 34 & 36 if you're still accepting ask game asks? feel free to skip some if they seem too annoying to answer publicly lol

14. Least favourite prosecutor?

hmmmm. honestly. it'd have to be edgeworth BUT SPECIFICALLY IN AA5. i loved edgeworth as a prosecutor in the trilogy but there was just...no fucking reason to bring him back in that capacity in dual destinies to me when the point was supposed to be focusing on all the new characters that were introduced....like. idk. they could've made APOLLO the damn prosecutor somehow (if edgeworth can play defense attorney then y'know.....) and i think it would've fit better than jamming edgeworth in there and being like "look!!! look!!! phoenix and edgeworth going up against each other again!!!! doesn't that make you want to buy our game!!!!!! buy our game!!!!!!!" if you're going to introduce new characters and new storylines then COMMIT TO IT!!!!!!!!!

15. Least favourite ship?

i suppose i don't really have one but that's just because i don't think about shipping in ace attorney at all anymore? not in romantic contexts at least (except to make jokes. i love jokes). i lose my mind over feenris art whenever i see it but it's more of an "AUGHHHH THE FUCKING IMPACT THEY HAD ON EACH OTHER'S LIVES" than an "AUGHHHH I NEED THEM TO KISS" sort of thing (very few people talk about iris. i have to take what i can get). i have wrightworth filtered out but it's not that i have an issue with it at all (you can find it on my blog even), it's just So Prevalent Everywhere that it eventually became such a chore to slog through wrightworth posts when looking through tags unrelated to wrightworth that i was like Fuck It and blocked it HAHA. i simply do not have a least favorite ship i'm afraid. shipping is just totally uninteresting to me in this particular fandom which i think makes sense because ace attorney is not a series that has ever heavily focused on romance.

34. Do you think Miles Edgeworth should get another Investigation-game or do you think another character deserves a spin-off?

give another character a spin-off 100%. give ema skye her own game where she's running around khura'in doing forensic science things. give kay faraday a game where she's acting as an actual vigilante. hell man i'd even take a game where trucy goes off on her own to do an international tour and gets wrapped up in the most wild cross-national investigation you've ever seen in your life. edgeworth has already been inserted way too many times into games that had nothing to do with him (like phoenix) as well as having TWO investigations games. give him a break.

36. Do you like where the franchise is heading or did you prefer the atmosphere in the original trilogy?

i do not like where the franchise is heading but that's just because it really and truly seems like the franchise itself has no fucking idea where it's heading. if they never released another ace attorney game i would be perfectly fine because the thought of an aa7 makes me cringe. i don't think it's going to fix anything i think it's going to make even more of a mess. if phoenix and edgeworth get shoehorned into one more case that doesn't concern them at all when they have so many new characters they're struggling to do anything with i'm going to secondhand embarrass myself out of my skin. Somehow. so yeah i prefer the atmosphere in the original trilogy but it's only because the original trilogy Somewhat Had Its Shit Together.