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t-a-a-1 · 2 days ago

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Can you do bayverse optimus ?Tlk if you can.It can be whatever you want i love your scrumptious writing hehe also ignore this if you're uncomfortable!^_^

Raindrops

Summary: Optimus asks you a very important question.

A/N: Written after the happenings of TLK. 4K Words

Raindrops

....

Everyday since he met you, he’s asked himself the same question.

“Would you come with me?”

It was a question he had imagined the answer to. A resounding ‘no’.

Optimus didn’t see any reason why you would want to go with him to Cybertron. Leaving your friends, family and career behind. All the commodities Earth provided you will be gone the moment you decide to come with him.

And it’s not like he offers you a beautiful home. Cybertron was hostile, after the war it had become ruins. He dreamed many times of showing you his home in its golden age. You would have loved the museums, the theaters, the libraries, the arts. Would you have loved them as much you love your planet? Would it be enough for you to want to stay?

“It seems Earth and Cybertron’s destiny has always been intertwined,” the sun is setting. Optimus looks at his home planet, now on Earth’s orbit. “If that had been any other celestial object, it would probably cause catastrophic events. But it seems like Cybertron was made to not disturb Earth’s gravitational pull and magnetic fields.”

Your field wasn’t physics but you had basic knowledge on how things worked. Just like he expected you to do, you started to ask the real questions. Something he was trying to avoid as long as he could.

“But I wonder if that’s because Cybertron currently lacks a core … Maybe once we are able to restore it, Cybertron’s gravitational pull will be too strong and destroy Earth.”

You look at him but he seems lost in thought. You didn’t blame him, having his home planet back must be unbelievable. After so many years of war and lost friends, what he always wanted is right here.

“When that happens, we’ll have to send Cybertron back to its original place in the universe.”

You expected him to continue the conversation some way or another but it's as if he wasn’t listening or rather he did not want to. Maybe he is tired of everything and wishes to leave immediately. Probably not wanting to deal with humans anymore.

Sighing heavily, you turn around, the wind moving your hair. The smell of the grass was strong and so a new aroma. It was hard to describe. Metal but alive. It was probably Cybertron. It didn’t bother you but it was different.

Looking back at Optimus made you realize that maybe he wanted to be alone. It is a lot of process for today.

“Well, then I guess this is goodbye–”

And suddenly, a servo is in front of you. Stopping you from walking any further. You look back, only to find Optimus’ faceplate extremely close to you.

“I-I … My apologies, I don’t know what took over me.”

It’s like you triggered something in him with your words. But you weren’t sure what. Now he looks confused and lost. As if I wanted to say more but can’t or don't have the words. You wanted to guess but your mind made you believe stupid ideas. Ones in which you prefer to not indulge any longer. They will only cause you unnecessary pain.

“It’s alright, you must be emotional. That’s all.”

You wait for a few seconds in which you could see Optimus’ blue optics in all of their glory. They were beautiful as they were mysterious. So close that you could see the small circuitry and cables that make up his optics. Such intricacy that you find yourself lost in them.

And then … you are ashamed.

“I must go.”

You say as you look away, expecting him to move his servo but he doesn’t.

“I must go.”

You say again and this time you see the hesitancy in his faceplace.

He slowly removes his servo and distances himself from you. His optics looks away and then looks at you in a repetitive manner.

“Do you–”

“I–”

“Oh sorry, you go first–” You raise a hand, trying to get his attention only to be interrupted by the Prime.

“No, you go first.”

It was awkward. And the fact that it was that way made you wonder what went wrong. In what moment did things between the two of you become so uncomfortable? Was it just the sudden realization of final peace? Was it too unrealistic for the two of you to believe? What is it?

“Nothing, I was just wondering if there’s something you wanted to say before I leave?”

Optimus servo clutch into fits. He opens his intake but nothing would come out. It was strange to see him this way. So confused, so … innocent. As if he was a kid trying to ask for another piece of cake. Too shy to ask and yet you find these small moments to be a treasure.

“I was just wondering …”

He hesitates again. He closes his optics and lets out a heavy vent. Turning his entire body around, you are unable to see his faceplate.

“When the time comes … Will you …”

His voice becomes so low that you are unable to hear him.

“What?”

You ask him, confused by his sudden lack of confidence.

“Will you … me?”

He says again but the loud wind and low tone voice weren’t helping the situation.

“... What?”

You ask once again, your voice gets louder, showing your clear annoyance at being unable to hear him.

“Will you come to Cybetron with me?!”

Suddenly, he turns around, you can see his faceplate again.

It was that expression again. One that you had only seen a few times. That of pure distress. Worriness. Anxiety. You had seen it before. During that time you had been captured by a Decepticon, badly injured and bleeding. His troubled expression was the last thing you saw before going unconscious.

But now? What was that distressed look for? What was he so worried about?

“I, I–”

What were you nervous for? Why were you stuttering? Your cheeks are getting hotter and you can’t speak. You can’t manage words. The expression on his faceplate had left you stunned as your brain tried to understand the reasoning behind it.

The longer you take to answer, the more pain is evident on his faceplate. His eyebrows squish together and his optics tremble. His lips formed a thin line that slowly became an upside down smile. He is begging you to end his torment and yet you know you have to tell him the truth.

It’s quiet around the hangar.

A small base had been built near Stonehenge. It was the logical thing to do after Cybertron had appeared above the ancient pillars. Although the American Government wasn’t too pleased to make negotiations with the British to let them have a base in their land.

You weren’t even supposed to be here but due to all the commotion in the last days, they let you stay. As well, Optimus and the rest of the Autobots enjoyed your stay. No one asked you when you will leave nor ever mentioned that you were a bothered. So you decided to stay for a couple of days until things settle down.

And because your boss had asked you to stay and bring back the full story when you are done.

“Are we just going to pretend Prime is ok?”

“Not like we can do much either or.”

They probably didn’t see you. As they were too busy talking to each other, carrying a few boxes of what you thought to be Energon. Meanwhile, you were typing on your laptop behind some piles of metal. It’s not like you were hiding but you rather found yourself a place where you could not be bothered when you needed to concentrate.

“I still can’t believe (Y/N) said no … I thought the two of them had a strong bond.”

“Yes but everything she knows is here,” Bumblebee puts down his box as Hot Rod walks close by. “Besides, they were too different … things wouldn’t work out.”

“But does she even know that Optimus’s processor has identified her as his Conjunx?” Hot Rod also puts the Energon box down and sits on top of it. “Boss-Bot won’t be able to attach to anyone ever again … Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“Cruel?” Bumblebee inquiries. “His Conjunx is someone who lives a fraction of our lives. The universe enjoys the game and the Primes are the pawns.”

“And they know how to play well.”

It started to rain. It wasn’t unusual for rain to come and go in England.

The bots look at it with amusement. This was unknown in Cybertron. It will take a long time before they can rebuild Cybertron and go back home but this will be one of the things they will miss the most.

“What is a Conjunx?”

You came out of your hiding spot, behind the bots and they quickly stumble in their steps as they look down on you.

“What are you doing there?!”

“What is a Conjunx?”

You ask again, not caring whether Hot Rod or Bumblebee looked like they just had seen a ghost.

“You don’t need to know that,” Bumblebee quickly starts to walk away while Hot Rod keeps looking back and forth. He looks hesitant but doesn’t speak, waiting for Bee’s next action.

“You said Optimus saw me as his Conjunx,” you don’t move but rather speak loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes but there’s no need–”

“She should know,” Hot Rod interrupts the talking yellow Mustang.

“Optimus wouldn’t want it,” Bumblebee stops walking and turns to look at his comrade and you. There is certain determination in your eyes, letting him know that you won’t stop pushing it until you find the answers you were looking for. You had always been known for that, probably something Optimus likes about you.

“Optimus will die of sadness if she doesn’t know.”

Bumblebee doesn't say a thing but just ex-vents heavily.

“Would you stay with me?”

That’s what you wanted to ask but you already knew the answer. A resounding ‘no’. There was nothing for him on Earth. Humanity had once betrayed him and now he is doubtful. Humanity will help rebuild Cybertron and after that the transformers will leave. It would be a selfish thing to ask him to stay. You can’t ask him to give up on everything he fought for. His home, his family and friends, everything was on Cybertron. And you just were a human who wanted him to stay.

It’s still raining.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop looking for him.

Although you can already feel yourself getting sick. Your hair is wet and your clothes damp.

It wasn’t unusual to rain in England but you hated how unpredictable the weather was. The wind was also strong but the base was already too far away to back away now. You had to find him.

Suddenly, a truck you immediately recognized makes his way towards you. The bot you were looking for appeared in front of you but he aggressively stops and opens his pilot door, signaling to go in.

You didn’t hesitate and jumped right in. Optimus closes the door and starts driving away as you are welcomed with warmness. Although you were cold and tired, you didn’t wait any longer.

“I was looking for–”

“Have you gone mad?” Optimus asks, his voice showing his clear annoyance. “ What are you doing in the rain without proper protection?”

“What? That doesn’t matter, I was–”

You wanted to start asking questions but you started to sneeze.

“How can I leave knowing you are this helpless?”

And after that, all previous questions left your mind.

“Excuse me? I can take care of myself.”

“Your actions tell me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, maybe he had a point. Running in the rain to look for him was probably not the best of ideas. But you were not about to tell him that.

“And what about you?” you sneeze again although more softly this time as to not to prove his point any further. “Aren’t you too told to be outside without an umbrella, you could be getting rusty anytime now?”

Optimus didn’t say a word. Your words will resonate at the back of his processor. He can’t believe he ever thought you would say yes to coming to Cybertron with him. You were right, he was an old rusty robot. Too many scars, too many mistakes and injuries. He can’t provide you with anything. Not even a family.

And yet he is selfish.

And you sneeze again.

And again.

“Great, I think I am going to get sick.”

He hates that word. Cybertronians also get sick but rarely. But humans are different. According to his research and observations, humans tend to get sick often and tragically a lot of them die.

Optimus didn’t want to say a word, his pride told him to stay quiet. That you don’t need his concern, you do not wish it nor want it.

But you sneeze again.

“I’ll be taking you to the closest hospital,” he says as he makes a turn, heading for the closest road.

“I am not going to the hospital, it's just a cold–”

“You are going to the hospital and it's final,”His voice is demanding but you don’t care.

“No, I won’t–”

“Why won’t you take my feelings into consideration?!”

His inside trembles. You could feel how his engine gets louder. The air coming from his vents got warmer and for a moment you felt your heart race. Out of guilt for making the Prime lose composure.

“What if you die?” he asks again. “What would I do after you are gone?”

The more he talks, the more desperate he sounds. As if he was living the circumstances he speaks of.

“Have you thought what my life would be like without your presence?” you feel the seatbelt across your chest get tighter. “Do you really wish for me to be tormented for eternity.”

“This isn’t about me going to the hospital, is it?”

He doesn’t respond, his silence answers your question.

“Let me out Prime, I want to talk to you, face to faceplate.”

He drives off the road and takes you to a heavy section of a nearby forest. Raining still, the tall trees prevent the rain from fully touching the ground. But some drops still make it through. Not like you cared about getting wet, you already were but Optimus had other plans.

Opening the door and removing the seat belt, you jump out of his alt form. You watch him transform, a scene you will never be tired of. It's beautiful as it is scary, yet he is gentle. He knows it can be scary and he moves slower, softly as if not to scare you.

Optimus doesn’t mass shift but he tries to see you at an eye-level. It must be uncomfortable for him and before you ask him why he doesn’t size-down, you feel him move closer.

He puts one of his large servo on top of you, protecting you from any rain from touching you.

“I want you to be honest with me,” you say as your breath is agitated, your heart pumping against your chest. “I need to hear it from you.”

“What do you feel for me?”

Without you knowing, Optimus’ spark is also pulsating strongly against his chassis. He moves his optics away for a second, only for them to return to look at you.

“You are a valuable asset to the Autobot cause.”

“Is that all?”

“You are also an important comrade.”

You didn’t expect him to fully understand what you were asking. But you were hoping he could read your undertones.

“I am giving you one last chance,” you say, your hands turning into a fist. You weren’t the best at this either and if you were honest, you didn’t know what you were trying to achieve. “Is that all you feel for me?”

The Prime has always been known to be eloquent. Especially with words. But when it comes to you, he loses all sense of vocabulary. It didn’t use to be that way. There used to be a time when you meant nothing to him but a friend.

But you had never stopped looking for him. After the attacks in Chicago, even after Sam’s death, an occurrence in which he blamed himself, you never stopped looking for him

What is it? Why did you do it?

“Look at the rain … Can you count each drop that falls from the sky?”

Optimus moves his optics to look at his surroundings. The rain, the trees, the beauty of nature. It cannot compare to you.

“No, I can’t,” you respond quickly, your face full of wonder.

“Then, you are the rain,” he says. “And I am trying to count.”

He sees your hands soften. Your expression had become awkward, with now avoiding eyes and pink cheeks. He has this need to hold you but respects your anatomy.

“I can’t tell you how I feel because there are not enough words to describe it,” he calculates his words but he finds himself taking longer to answer. “I could recite you all of Cybertronian poetry and yet that doesn't feel enough for me.”

You keep looking at him and he looks away. Your eyes were too beautiful and it distracts him immensely.

“But if you were to ask me to count each star in the universe I would,” he lets his spark do the talking, finally subsiding the yearning it has been holding for a long time. “If you asked me to bring you a star, I would bring you a constellation.”

“This old rusted body belongs to you but if you ask me for my silence and distance, I won’t retaliate.”

“And if I asked you to stay with me, on Earth, would you do it?”

You know it was a selfish question. You didn’t want to make him choose between his world and you. But you just had to know if there was a small possibility, a small chance that the life you had with him could still be a possibility.

After the accidents in Chicago, you had looked for him, only to find him broken. Sam’s death had affected him greatly but in that grieve of losing loved ones, something sparked.

Three years. You had lived with him for three years, in an isolated cottage. Where he could have all the dandelions he wanted. Where he could care for animals and the two of you would look at the stars and try to count them. Each one of them.

“If that’s what you wish,” Optimus says. “I would stay by your side as long as you would have me.”

“I can’t,” you look away this time. “I won’t ask you to stay with me.”

“You have a duty to complete and Cybertron is your home,” there is more to it. More doubts than you are able to articulate. “When you asked me to go to Cybertron with you, I said no because I don’t think I am worthy to be on your side.”

“Have my actions made you feel this way?”

“You are Optimus Prime … I think anyone would feel unworthy,” you pause, thinking about the earlier events. “But today, Bumblebee and Hot Rod told me that you see me as your Conjunx.”

Optimus opens his intake only to close it. He looks side to side, trying to evade eye contact. One of the few times you can tell he is shy. But him acting in such a way has also made your body betray you. You wonder if he can tell just how nervous you are.

“Does that mean — You do?”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” his voice is delicate with an apologetic tone. As if you had just caught him stealing extra energon from the resource room. “Without noticing, my processor had one day started the Conjunx Ritus and as time passed, we both successfully completed the requirements.”

“And before I knew it, my Spark belonged to you.”

“But we are so different.”

“And yet here we are,” he makes a pause and he hears the rain. He tries to calm down before asking his next question, knowing that this will break his Spark. “Does my affection displease you?”

“No, no, I just–” you stumble with your words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Is there a possibility that perhaps, in your heart, you reciprocate my sentiments?”

And you stay silent. Mostly because you don’t fully know what is going through your heart and the implications behind it. Can this even be possible? Are your feelings even real? Can he comprehend what your feelings are? Can this … Whatever it is, be real?

“Please end my torment,” his faceplate looks to be in distress, his optics yearning. Longing for something unknown to the both of you. “Your silence makes me have hope and I don’t want to suffer when you destroy my delusions.”

Gently, you walk towards him. You reach out a hand and touch his faceplate. Rubbing your soft skin against his cold metal. You watch his optics close, his engine gets louder just a bit but you hear him. As if your touch had saved him, healed him from whatever his processor agonized him with.

“You are cold,” you say as you put your forehead against his faceplate. “Until you get warm, I’ll stay with you.”

Optimus didn’t need to ask further. You didn’t have to say anything either. He just basks himself into this moment. Not knowing what the future holds but he doesn’t care as long as you are with him. This moment won’t last forever but he wants to think that one day it could be true.

A moment were he believed he could spend eternity counting the raindrops and stars in the sky with you.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I’ve seen all the Bayverse movies but TLK is a movie that is a bit hard for me to write about because I don’t understand it much lol. But I still hope you like this and that it's not too OOC?

It was fun to write this! So thank you so much for the request! :)

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gothcsz · 2 days ago

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I bet you already know what I’m about to say. I really wish you’d write a fic about Marcus Acacius eating pussy. Bonus points if he’s wearing his ring and uses that hand to please you. Extra aura points if you’re his wifey. Modern/canon time. Whichever. 😁🤭

Flesh & Gold | Marcus Acacius x Black F!Reader | ~1.8k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Tags: oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, size kink kinda, secret fling with the general, his ring makes an appearance, not historically accurate we're just vibing here, a smidge of possessive!marcus, reader is a black woman, has curly hair, and is able bodied, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: feliz cumpleaños primita! 🥂 this one is specifically for you and i hope you enjoy it! thank you for always supporting the feral musings that plague me and for being an amazing friend 🖤 this is the same pairing from this lovely moodboard... i couldn't help myself 🏹

The invitation had come by way of a sealed scroll, delivered just before the sun set.

You had expected it the moment he wheeled through the streets in a decorated chariot, the roar of the crowd so thunderous it seemed to shake the very stones beneath your feet.

The banquet that followed the fights had been routine, its opulence familiar. You’ve lingered in Rome longer than any other city or village, drawn by the wealth, the beauty, the intoxicating danger of slipping into the arms of a man as powerful as him.

You had seen the hunger in his gaze long before his lips ever formed your name. How he traced the shimmer of oil on your skin, your hips beckoning his attention beneath the rich gossamer fabric.

You effected him deeply, much to his dismay, grip tightening around his goblet whenever you locked eyes. A silent promise in the look you shared.

You were summoned to his home under the guise of performing for a private gathering, a small dinner shared with a few senators. But as you stepped into the lavish cubiculum, purposely draped in expensive fabric, it became clear that you were never meant for an audience of many.

The chamber was dimly lit, the warm glow of oil lamps flickering against frescoed walls, the scent of myrrh and clove thick in the air.

A half-emptied tray of honeyed dates sat abandoned on a low table near the lectus, its decadence forgotten in the wake of something far more intoxicating.

You turned just as the heavy door groaned shut behind you, sealing you within his den.

Acacius stood before it, still in his white and gold ceremonial robes, his presence alone filling the space. Big-shouldered and imposing.

The golden light caressed the hard planes of his face, tracing the scars that cut across his cheek and strong nose, the slight furrow of his brow—an expression you had come to know well.

A slow, knowing smile curved your lips as you took a step forward, the skirt of your two piece ensemble shifting with your movement, the golden body chain adorning your midriff catching the light, twinkling with every breath.

Your hair had been swept up into a high bun (minus the few strands that framed your face), exposing the line of your throat, the delicate layering of gold and bejeweled necklaces resting against your bronze skin.

Your earrings swayed as you moved, sounding like wind chimes in the summer breeze, every piece of you an adornment—an invitation.

He took you in, his gaze darkening, lingering at how your exposed midriff gleamed beneath lamplight.

“Where are your senators, General?” you questioned with a teasing lilt, tipping your chin in challenge. “Am I to dance for ghosts?”

His mouth twitched in amusement, but his eyes remained fixed upon you like a predator assessing its prize. Slowly, deliberately, he removed his bracers, then unclipped the heavier red cape, setting each article aside with the practiced ease of a man who had undressed for war a thousand times.

“I did not invite them,” he admitted, his voice a low rasp, now standing before you only in the white tunic that lied beneath the formal wear.

A shiver slithered down your spine. Your confidence did little to protect you from the intensity of his stare, from the way he stepped toward you, unburdened now by armor or pretense.

You let him come.

His hands found your waist, skin ablaze as his roughed and calloused touch made contact, palms mapping the curve of your hips.

A slow exhale left him as he traced the golden links, admiring how they dipped with the natural swell of your body. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing and teasing your stiffened nipples.

“You are a temptress,” he murmured, leaning in, breath tantalizing against the shell of your ear. “Every man watches you, but none dare touch. I would cut them down where they stand.” Each word rolled over you like the slow pour of honey.

You managed a smug grin, though your breath caught when his lips found the column of your throat, coarse hairs of his beard grazing the sensitive skin. “At ease Acacius. So possessive.”

He hummed against your warmth, the sound deep, reverberating through you like the low growl of a lion. His lips and teeth traced a path down the curve of your neck, lingering, tasting, claiming.

Your eyes fluttered shut as pleasure stole through you, your fingers finding purchase on the thick cords of muscle of his biceps beneath his tunic. The tickle of his beard, the scent of wine and leather clinging to him, the sheer size of his broader frame against yours—it was enough to make you sigh, melting into him as your inhibitions lowered.

He lifted you with ease, his competent strength effortless as he carried you to the bed, its frame carved from ivory, sheets a cream color. He laid you upon it, the fabric cool against your heated being, and he stood above you for a moment, consuming you with his eyes.

“I have thought of this often,” he admitted, voice slathered with desire as he leaned down to kiss the swells of your tits, beginning his descent. “Dreamed of tasting you again.”

What an obscene act, one that was practically unheard of—that was until you found yourself beneath the General’s touch, claimed within the sanctum of his bed.

His hands slipped beneath the deep slit of your skirt, knuckles dragging against the fevered skin of your thighs as he bared you inch by inch, removing the garment that covered the gift between your thighs.

You shivered, nerves thrumming like the strings of a lyre as his fingers traced a languid path upward, teasing your pussy lips.

He exhaled when reaching your mound, nuzzling his curved nose at the stripe of hair there. You keened.

The heat of his breath washed over you before an open-mouthed kiss was pressed to your pussy. His action made your hips swivel, a sweet moan sung from the depths of your throat.

Marcus gripped your hips, thumbs stroking the dip where flesh met bone beneath the thick band of your skirt, keeping you still.

When his tongue breached you slit, he groaned as though he had discovered a treasure more valuable than the gold that lined his wrists or filled his pockets.

And then, he feasted.

His mouth was slow and indulgent. The slide of his wet muscle circling your clit was a prayer, the scrape of his facial hair a plea for divinity. He held you down firmly when you writhed, his hands moved to grip the meaty, soft flesh of your thighs, forcing you to take what he gave.

The lewd cunnilingus had pleasure striking your body like a lightning bolt, unraveling you with each intentional stroke and kiss.

The melody of your jewelry danced with every shake of your form, echoing off the stone walls, mixing with your cries of pleasure—a symphony of passion, a testament to your shared lust.

Your fingers tangled in his greying brown curls, tugging desperately, needy, and he growled in response, the tremor of it sending a shock through your very core.

“Marcus—” His intimate name left your lips like an invocation, a whispered surrender.

He grunted, the sound bordering another snarl, and just as you thought he would grant you your orgasm—he withdrew, his mouth parting from you with agonizing slowness.

A protest nearly fell from your lips before you felt something cool against your skin.

His ring.

A thick band of gold with an emerald cut into the shape of a ziggurat. He traced it along the inside of your thigh, the smooth metal a stark contrast to the heat pulsing at your pussy.

He slid his ring-clad knuckle between your folds, the cold press of gold against spit slicked, sensitive flesh sending a quiver through you. And then, he sunk two stocky fingers into the mouth of your cunt—deep, firm, the tip of his tongue resting against your swollen, pert clit as he moved.

The sensation was intoxicating. You clenched around his digits, hips arching, chasing the rapture only he could give you. He chuckled, low and dark, his breath fanning against your sex.

“You take my touch so beautifully,” he rasped, curling his fingers inside you, angling just right. Your pussy squelched and weeped for more. “As if you were made for it.”

Your moaned loudly, uncaring if anyone could hear you. Acacius knew how to command your body, the skill honed from his title. You were like a beautiful string puppet meant only for his entertainment and pleasure.

He worked you open with a measured pace, teasing you to the edge before retreating, only to start again.

Pleasure coiled, unbearable, exquisite. And when he bent his head once more, his tongue lapping with more ardor at your clit before he sucked roughly, the sensation sent you careening into bliss.

Your body bowed off the bed, a sharp cry piercing the air, your orgasm crashing over you like a breaking wave.

And still, he did not stop.

He licked, sucked, kissed, and drank from you as though he had been starved for years, only now having been given leave to taste the heavens.

His fingers still moved in slow, deep thrusts, prolonging your bliss until you were entirely pliant beneath him.

Over and over he made you fall apart, soaking his hand as if cleansing it of the blood it had long been stained with.

When your body could take no more, when your limbs quaked and your breath stuttered, sweat built to a sheen at your skin, he finally lifted his head.

Acacius’s lips and chin were wet with your essence, expression darkened in satisfaction, curls in his hair mussed by your affections. He dragged his mouth up your body, once more tracing the curve of your hip, your stomach, licking at the golden links of your body chain until he was at the valley of your breasts, biting down the supple flesh.

“Taste yourself on my tongue.” He uttered before capturing your lips in a kiss that stole the last breath from your lungs.

And you did, kissing him languidly, taking your time to trace the inside of his mouth with your tongue, flitting over his teeth, tasting your tanginess and enjoying the feeling of his large, strong figure pressed against yours.

Only then did he withdraw, brown eyes hazed over with lust, stroking your cheek affectionately.

He then lifted his hand to his lips, the emerald on his ring catching the flames of the flickering lamps. He met your eyes as his pink tongue swept out to taste you from the very accessory that marked him as Rome’s greatest conqueror.

“I should not keep you here,” Acacius vocalized gruffly, trailing his palms up and down the length of your enchanting body, eyes appreciating, showing no sign of letting go. “But I cannot bear to let you leave.”

Your lips tugged into a sultry smile, your heart still pounding in your chest, brain fogged with simply... him. “Then do not.”

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius fanfic #marcus acacius fic #kat's writing.#📞 next caller!

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cheekybirb · 3 days ago

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toh in general is such a poorly written show that had so much potential but doesn't really live up to it. like tbh i think the idea of the owl house is better then the show was. in hollow mind there could've been the chance to explore belos' character more or his past with caleb and instead it's just? surface level stuff??? and i understand disney cancelled toh and they only had a certain amount of episodes left but they seriously could've done better with the time they had left to write it. i realised while trying to write smth about belos before that he doesn't actually have much of a personality???????? like he's just a very empty character that's only really there to serve the role of a villain and nothing more. which okay fine whatever but also most of the other characters also have the same problem where i can't really tell what their personalities are supposed to be. and maybe that's just me being autistic but i seriously think it's just badly written? idk sorry for rambling here im insane but do u understand

That is super true. While I do understand how heavily Disney likes to censor the show overall, it is kinda made to be a slap in the face to Disney and because of that being the focus it made a lot of very important characters very dry when they could have easily done more research and made it show how the queer community is treated rather that "Oh its a queer show! How you like that Disney??"

Like Belos as a character could have been a much scarier and bigger threat if he wasn't a joke. I understand why they kinda wrote him without a personality because many Christians fall into line with the same personality and interests. But that wasn't even explored and therefore was unforfilling.

I really wish they went with a narrative that could really hit home with a lot of people. Like if they made Belos more realistic as a heavy conservative Christian in power. Or even Odalina as an abusive parent and have her drive a wedge between Luz and Amity rather than have her easily beaten and in the background.

The Owl House lacks a story. Like Belos was a villain since s1 without even showing up until later. Like Luz saw the coven system and was like, "This is wrong" with knowing nothing about it or why it's there.

Heck, even Eda could have had better writeing like if she was written that she became against the coven system for a much deeper reason rather then she was just a rule breaker. Instead, maybe have her sister cursing her be the reason. The covens drew a huge wedge between her sister, and that's why she didn't like it rather than "I was just gonna give it to you and I just don't like covens"

Raine could have had a showing in s1 to explore their character more especially their tension with Eda and them wanting to be a coven head.

Luz and Camilla's Hispanic heritage could have had a better representation other than they speak Spanish occasionally.

Gus having a greater impact on Hunter much slower. And overall him having more screen time.

Hunter slowly healing and taking new friendships and relationships slower as he heals from his huge amounts of trauma. (Yes I know the show was canceled, but Hunter immediately had a crush on Willow when they met)

Willow and Amity taking slower to repair their friendship.

Willows design showing more of her half Asian heritage. And show her power getting stronger over time.

Lumity was my biggest upset because they were rushed so quickly. With no flaws or bumps either. I wish their enemies to lovers held more character development for Amity as well as Odalina getting more in the way, maybe isolating her more. Amity also not knowing how to love either because she was treated like a business object.

I also think that Caleb in FtF should have a better effort to haunt the narrative. Like instead of just stare try one last time to convince Belos to stop but Belos doesn't listen.

I also wished Eda and Lilith had more tension with Belos and that they knew about Caleb.

But yeah those are just my thoughts. I still love the show I just wish it could have done better (as someone who is going into film and writing as a career)

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slutsareteacherstoo · 6 hours ago

Text

Gonna be blasting all these songs that came up below like wow, Reina. You got me fr. Its highkey a sign for me. Like lemme not block my blessings and get my shit together real quick but amazing

First up gon be that Keyshia Cole

Me reading the warnings more clearly know and sending praise 😩🙏🏿

OH SHE IS FREE?!?! GRACIAS MI REINA 🙏🏿🧎🏿‍♀️I WAS STRESSING!!!!! but damn that’s not freedom frfr but she out!

Come on inner dialogue tingz!!! 🗣️🗣️ “Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.”

“For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.” Its giving sisyphus😪free my girl fr!!!!

Shit that freaked me out but i too would freak out and had i heard someone fall to the floor

“I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.” - you be writing poetry? 🧐🤨 just curious 🤓 it’s very lyrical, very verse!!! I like that last sentence.

OH GOT HE TOGETHER REAL QUICK!!!!!

Nah Havana. We nuh av dat!!!! 😤 THE PERSON IN FRONT IS SHOWING YOU THEY LOVE YOU BABY YOU NOT PRETENDING!! And ol boy knows its not an act 😩

“…Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.” - well *claps hands* so when’s the wedding??? 🤭 no but that was some real shit. This IS some real shit. Havana’s inability to accept her relationship with Terry and his love for her for what it is is def a situation ik all too well, even when all the conditions are met that doesn’t change the mindfuck and guilt can be consuming. And also like being able too see the grey. Cuz like yes 🙄 Vana couldve reeled it in a bit but/and/also Terry was being communicative and ignored Vana when she brought up what happened and how it clearly bothered her. So the moral is that there’s shared accountability in all this!!!

*LEARN SOMETHING FROM THIS*

Yes we love big bawling, emotional Terry being raw and vulnerable

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.” 🥺🥺

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.” - WHEW THATLL DO IT!!!!! 😭

Not his voice metro booming i wouldve [redacted] right there

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.” - THEY GON BE MAKING LOVE TONIGHT YALL 😫 play “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” by Elton John

OH SHIT WE DOIN AFFIRMATIONS NOW?!?!

I blinked in between the pumps like sorry Vana. scooch over real quick i need to hear this 😅🙈

HEY SIRI PUT THAT DESTIN CONRAD “IT’S YOURS” ON REPEAT!!!

Lmaooo ok ok ok Reina 😌Mi Reina you’ve redeemed yourself in the eyes of your public. Now i know (partially)why you had the girls [gender neutral] up in arms. But wow!!!

This was sooo disarming. Like you stripped me raw and got me reflecting like fuck. I don’t do fisticuffs but that anger and being quick to use it on people who aren’t careful. Them words could cut a bitch fr!!! But like wow im like taken aback and in awe. Like shoutout to Vana for seeing herself through it. I mean Terry helped or whatever 🙄 but again Vana did the heavy lifting and thT makes me soo proud to see.

And you’ve done such an amazing job crafting these characters, esp your OC and making her face her shit and be real with herself, always for the better. Like chile lemme get myself together so I can be present in my future relationships like damn. It took me a minute to catch up but it was actually perfect timing. Like wow.

Im constantly blown away by you and seeing you expand in your craft. Ik im a behind but ik that means theres more in store to give flowers to always 💜

Big Mama Pt. 12 | Enough

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +5.1K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, light smut (fingering), heavily dialogue-centered, angst, verbal argument, self-deprecation

🦋Big Mama (series) => 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Early That Morning

“Monnie, I don't know… Everything is just…,” I said, crying softly.

“Girl! If you don't just praise God right quick, and call that man to thank him.” Monnie said, smacking her lips. She was understandably agitated with my response. Was it lackluster? Yes, but I didn't know what to say or do about it. I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I honestly wasn't happy with the outcome.

After almost three weeks of pure hell, I received a call from a lawyer that Terry himself hired. I was told the conditions for maintaining my freedom as I was currently living in the aftermath of the incident between Terry, me, and Taylor. It was finally over, but here I was still crumbling under the weight of it all.

The terms and conditions were as follows:

Terry agrees not to sue Taylor as long as she agrees not to sue me.

Terry agrees not to file and pursue criminal charges against Taylor as long as she agrees to drop the charges against me and forfeit her right to refile.

I would not be allowed to approach Taylor in any public setting, but we could be present in the same vicinity.

There would be no established restraining order from Taylor against me, just a peace order since we have no standing or pre-existing relationship.

Terry's family agreed to take care of any outstanding medical bills for Taylor, along with her receiving a small undisclosed amount.

The records would be expunged after 90 days.

The terms were simple and clear. I just hated how much Terry had to give up for it. The outcome was obviously unfavorable and one-sided. The single impartial party who deserved justice and compensation received none— Terry. Because of that, I felt like crawling into a hole and never resurfacing. Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.

My faith in love had been tainted by my own doing not because I didn't think Terry loved me but because I felt like he shouldn't. Every voice in my head told me I was and should've been deemed unlovable years ago. Honestly, a person like me is not capable of accepting a love as pure as Terry's. For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.

2 Hours Later

KNOCK

I was startled awake by the thunder of someone pounding on my front door. I had fallen asleep on the loveseat in my living room.

Jumping up, I attempted to make my way to the door. I used the oversized plush blanket as a cover and held it tightly against my body. I was only wearing a sports bra and micro-biker shorts.

As I walked around the edge of the coffee table, the blanket snagged the corner and positioned itself under my feet. My right foot got trapped in the sea of fabric, causing me to crash onto the floor. My knees collided with the laminated wood with vigor. I had no time to lick my wounds.

“Shit!” I yelled.

At this point, I was more than agitated. I tore the blanket off of me and tossed it to the floor. Using the arm of the recliner, I regained my footing and stood up. I placed my hands on my hips and drew in a deep breath as my body registered the pain from the fall.

Before I could make another move, the knocking began again. This time, the sounds were harder and louder.

KNOCK

Each knock sounded off, shaking the front door. I paused in fear. My anxiety peaked as my mind began to race with disturbing thoughts. I wasn't expecting visitors, so who was this?

“I can hear you inside, ‘Vana. Please, just open the door.” said a muffled voice from outside.

No. No. No. It couldn't be. Why would he be here?

“Terry?!” I yelled back in confusion and relief.

“Yes, baby! Now, can you open the door? We really need to talk,” he said.

I remained frozen in place. Losing the ability to hear, Terry's voice began to drown out.

“Havana!” he yelled again.

“Uh, Terry. I just… I don't…,” I whimpered loudly.

Before any coherent thoughts left my lips, the door swung open. I couldn't help but stare at Terry in shock.

“How the fuck……,” I asked as I approached him slowly.

“I had a key made months ago. I wanted it for emergencies. This counts as an emer….,” Terry said.

“Terry! Get out! Now!” I yelled. I was beyond frustrated and tired.

Today has worn me thin, and my patience was at its lowest. I wasn't in the mood for tolerating any form of nonsense or mess.

“No! Havana, baby… We need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do.”

I knew I owed Terry an apology, a conversation, and everlasting grace; but I couldn't even find it in me to give myself the same.

I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.

“Havana, look at me!” Terry said, grabbing my chin. Oh, how a firm yet loving hand can change things. My heart fluttered and skipped in my chest as his fingers stoked the surface of my skin.

“Terry… I… I'm sorry,” I said as tears finally broke free. “You… Y-you deserve more than I can give you. I want… I want you to be happy. I just don't think that can happen with me.”

“Mama, don—,” Terry said.

“No! Terry, just lea—leave. Please!” I yelled, pushing him away.

“Havana,” Terry said, grabbing my arms. His eyes dropped to meet mine.

Yanking away from him, I yelled again, “Ter—!”. Before I could finish, Terry's face shifted into a look of utter aggravation.

“That's it! Havana Rose,…. sit down or I'll sit you down,” Terry muttered through gritted teeth as he pointed towards the couch.

I stood there for a second frozen in shock. I never expected Terry to put up this much of a fight.

“Aight, I'm done. I'm sick—,” he started to speak as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, “—of this shit!”.

Terry began to carry me down the hall. I pushed against his back in a feeble attempt to be released. I knew struggling was pointless, but I wasn't ready for the conversation Terry clearly wanted to have.

As we rounded the corner of my bedroom door, I could feel the tears falling with ease. There was no noise leaving my body as I silently wept. I should've prepared for this more productively. Instead, I tried to choose a coward's way out, and Terry wasn't having it.

Like always, life had a weirdly tumultuous way of making me confront my feelings.

Placing me on the bottom edge of my bed, Terry stood in front of me. His eyes scanned my face as he watched me teeter on the edge of implosion.

“Hav—,” Terry started. He squatted down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.

As much as I wanted this to end, one question was burning through my mind— heavy and bitter as it weighed on my tongue. Unfortunately for me, the four words could not be swallowed back down, allowing the unpleasantness of the discontent to fester in the back of my throat. I knew how to rectify this feeling, and I knew how to pacify the voices in my head. But, should I, and did I deserve it?

“Do you love me?” I asked, avoiding Terry's gaze. I could see his lips begin moving, so I placed my hand over his mouth. “No, just listen to me. I want you to think about what happened. I can't even control my anger. W-what if… you wake up one day and finally realize y-you… deserve better… than me. I'm sick of pretending like… like I'm enough. Terry, we both know I'll never be enough, so let's just end this now,” I spoke barely above a whisper.

Terry's hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. As his eyes pleaded with me, I saw a glimmer of something I wish I didn't— hesitation and uncertainty. I slowly pushed his hands off my shoulders, waiting for him to just say what we already knew.

Terry didn't love me. He loved what he thought I—

“’Vana, let's get something clear. I love you with all my fuckin' heart. Just saying I love you isn't enough for me because you're everything to me. What can I do to show you that? Huh? Tell me, love. What can I do?”

I hung my head in defeat. Most women would be swooning over this, but it only added another layer to the guilt that was consuming me. Now, he was giving me unconditional love when I couldn't even allow myself the space to apologize.

“Terry, no. Please, just—,” I choked, wiping away tears.

“No, you stop. Stop beating yourself up about this. I understand that what I did made you doubt me, but don't ever feel like the problem was you. I was. I did it. All of this is on me. If I would have been man enough to tell you the truth about what happened, there wouldn't have been a fight. That one mistake caused all of this. This is my fault, not yours. And—,” he spewed breathlessly.

“Terry…,” I interrupted him.

“No, let me finish. Believe me, when I say this, I'll fight the devil himself for you. I'll climb the mountains in heaven just to find you again. I don't think you understand me, baby. I love every part of you. I hope that one day you can see that. Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.”

Terry stood at his full height, towering over me. His eyes were bright yet somehow lacking their normal vitality, seeming to be void of any indication of happiness. It became clear to me that this was wearing Terry down just as much as it was me. As much as I wanted him to give up, the idea of causing him such grief and fatigue weighed heavily on my heart.

He drew his hands into fists as I watched his eyes. His face became flustered, and his breathing became ragged. Every breath choppier than the last. I could sense something brewing inside of him. His hands were shaking slightly as they rested by his side. As he unclenched and clenched his fists, his bottom lip began to quiver. His eyes glossed over, and his gaze became lethargic. No… No… This couldn't be happening.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I just feel like we can't—,” I said, standing from the bed.

Tears were streaming from Terry's eyes. The strength in his face was faltering right before my eyes.

I slowly reached out to touch his face, stroking his cheek while I wiped away the tears. He grabbed my hand, holding it tightly against his cheek.

“These… these last few weeks have been pure hell for me. I missed you so much, mama. It's like for the first… for the first time in my life, I know love; and that's because of you,” he paused for a moment, taking long deep breaths. “It was a funny feeling at first…. and coming to terms with it was hell. You only hear of women wanting to be seen and heard, but now that I know the feeling—. I don't think I could ever go back to what I thought love was.”

“Terry, you really feel that way?” I asked, sobbing with him at this point.

“Yes, it honestly scared me when I realized how much I loved you… Whew… I had to sit with the fact that I had never loved someone that much… and… and I had never been loved properly before you. Baby,… listen to me… I can say this before God and before you… that this is a love worth fighting for. Havana Rose, YOU'RE worth fighting for. Do you… please, tell me you understand,” he sobbed into my hand.

“Terry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't want… I just didn't know what to say,” I said, pulling him into a hug.

“You don't have to say anything. Just tell me you're not leaving,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

His hands wrapped around my waist even tighter. I rested my face in his chest and mumbled a quiet no.

How could I leave him, especially now? For the first time, my heart felt— full.

“Thank you, ‘Vana. I love you. Okay?” he said, leaning into me.

“I love you, too,” I confessed, wiping away my tears.

I reached out to touch Terry's face, tracing the outline of his jaw. As if that was all the reassurance he needed, his shoulders dropped slowly. I watched patiently as his body returned to a state of normalcy— shoulders broad, chest out, and head high.

As we stood there silently refusing to let each other go, he let out a long yawn.

“Tired?” I questioned, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Wanna take a nap… uh… together?” I asked, praying that he would say yes.

There was nothing I craved more than his touch right now. I needed him bad. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for his answer.

“Hell, yeah!” he blurted, lifting me. His hands carefully wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, crawling towards the head with me in his arms. He gently laid me in the center of the pillows. I released my legs and let them fall onto the bed.

Finally untangling from each other, Terry lifted himself onto his hands. He scooted down so that his head was resting on my chest. I used one hand to run my fingers through his velvety hair, massaging his scalp with my fingertips. The other hand soothingly rubbed his back like a baby. Terry's arms wrapped under my body, embracing me tightly. I let my lips rest at the top of his head.

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.

2 Hours Later

Waking up to Terry's body on mine felt like home— a place I'd never been allowed to experience. As I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, I released one of my own. With him here in my arms, I could breathe again.

Terry's presence was a breath of fresh air because, admittedly, he was the air that I breathed. I had never felt so attached to anyone or anything. Every part of him called out to something in me. His voice soothed my soul, his lips electrified whatever they touched, his hands… God, his hands absolved me of my suffering, and his eyes knew how to see my heart.

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.”

Terry's arms adjusted underneath me, causing me to hold my breath. Embarrassment washed over me, warming my skin. I was silently praying that he didn't hear me. Releasing a deep groan after a few minutes, I realized he was in a deep sleep again. His shoulders slumped forward, allowing his body to melt into mine.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I leaned over and kissed Terry's forehead. I knew that lifting this man off of me would be damn near impossible. I was debating on if I should wake him up or not. I shifted to one side so his hold on me would loosen. His arms fell away from my body, allowing me to scoot out from under him— barely. I carefully moved towards the edge of the bed. I slowly turned my body so my feet softly landed on the floor.

I stood from the bed, stumbling as the feeling in my legs returned. They felt like jelly as a deep tingling sensation went to my toes. I kicked my feet and flicked my ankles.

As I sauntered across the room, I heard Terry stir in his slumber. I glanced over my shoulder to see him now on his back. His arm thrown across his chest left him posed so… so… delicately like an angel. Terry’s face alone could render even the most wicked defenseless.

I smiled brightly at the sight of him. I quietly opened the bathroom door. Stopping to stare at the mirror, I took in my appearance. Yikes! I looked like… something, and it wasn't nice.

I mentally made plans to do my hair— or maybe I'll just pay someone.

Using the bathroom as quickly as possible, I reentered the bedroom and dried my hands on a towel. I glanced over at Terry to see his chest still rising and falling. I half-smiled at the sight. Walking towards the door, I entered into the front room. I closed the door softly behind me.

Before I could reach the kitchen, I heard a noise coming from behind me. The springs of my old mattress were loud and alarming.

“Havana! Where are you?!” yelled Terry from the bedroom. I could hear the bed creaking again.

I turned around to walk back to the bedroom door. “Why is this man yelling?” I asked myself quietly as I giggled.

“HAVANA!” Terry yelled even louder than the first time. The tone of his voice contained a sense of urgency and concern. Panic set in for me as soon as I realized the distress in his voice.

Sprinting towards the door, I flung it open. “What's wrong?” I inquired softly.

Terry was seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door. His eyes shot up to meet mine. The look on Terry's face made my heart thump. My breath quickened anxiously. His eyes were red, and his face was flushed. His head swayed on his shoulders as his breathing quieted. His fingers dug into the bed with a ferocious grip.

I approached him slowly. Softening my voice before speaking, I raised my hand to stroke his cheek. “Baby, are you okay?” I asked him.

Terry's eyes darted from my face to the floor. The worried look on his face cut deep as his eyes seemed to search for mine. This was not a look of simple anxiety or worry. His countenance was charged with— despair and desperation.

I leaned over to place kisses on his forehead. “Hey, I'm right here. Wh—,” I whispered as Terry threw his arms around my waist.

He pulled me into a fervent embrace. His arms felt like a second skin against my body. I felt his shoulders fall forward as his body went limp against mine. I couldn't understand the overwhelming range of emotions this man was displaying.

“I… I… I th-thought you were gone,” he said with his face pressed into my belly.

I squatted down in front of him. “Terry, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I told you that, honey,” I said, cupping his chin in my hand.

He slowly shook his head in understanding as if he was coming to terms with my words.

That's when it hit me. HE THOUGHT I HAD LEFT.

“Terry, look at me. I love you. You big baby,” I said, smiling at him somberly.

“I know. I just panicked I guess. I'm sorry about that,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Awww, don't apologize. I'm okay, papa,” I said, rising on my feet. “You hungry?” I asked him while softly caressing the side of his neck.

His head leaned up slowly as a slight grin spread across his face. “Hell yeah,” he laughed.

Later That Night

“You done, baby?” I asked Terry as I stood from the couch. I held my hand out to take his plate.

“Yeah, here—,” he started. “Wait! Give those here. I got it. You sit down,” he said, taking the plates from me.

“Terry, I could've washed them. It isn't that many.”

“Nah… I told you I got it,” he said, kissing my forehead as he walked past me.

I stood there in silence. This was so adorable to me. How could this man get any cuter?

“Ok. Fine. I'll sit, I guess.” I sat down on the arm of the couch.

Terry entered the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. I don't know why, but the sight of this man washing dishes was so… I could feel the butterflies in my tummy going wild.

As I watched his back muscles move, I felt something. I immediately felt my panties grow damp as his shirt clung to every curve and crevice of his body.

I bit my lip as I crossed my legs. Feeling my body come alive, I released a quiet sigh. I needed this man— on me, in me, with me, however.

I repositioned myself with my legs on both sides of the arm of the couch so that I was straddling it. I was losing a silent battle between my mind and my body. I could feel my hips move slowly. There was no way this man had me grinding my pussy against a fuckin' couch. The friction of my labia and clit rubbing against the couch through the thin material of my biker shorts aided in creating the slick pool in the seat of my shorts. I knew they were ruined, but I was too aroused to stop.

I gulped in desperation, trying to fight against whatever this was. I didn't want to attack this man just yet. I knew words needed to be said and feelings needed to be discussed. I looked down at my body, covering my face in shame. I was being betrayed by the only thing I thought I had control over— myself. Every movement I made and thought I had was overpowered by him.

I was suffering, and I knew it. There was only one way to stop it. I had to feed the beast.

With eyes stricken with defeat, I looked over at him. I feverishly hummed in desperation, “Terry. I… um… I-,”.

To my surprise, he was no longer facing the sink. He was looking directly at me. I froze in shame. I watched his eyes lower as his gaze dropped. I dropped my head and looked at the floor.

“You need something, ‘Vana?” Terry asked. His voice boomed through the air. The intense weight of that question landed right where I needed it— my heart and my pussy. I was past hot and bothered. I was in the middle of having a sexual crisis.

I looked back at him and nodded. At this point, I was a needy mess. If Terry so much as touched me, I'd cum. I wanted to speak, but I knew whatever sound my lips released would be lascivious.

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you need something?” Terry asked, leaning forward against the kitchen island.

“Yeessss,” I whined.

“And what do you need?” he asked, moving to the other side of the island.

I drew in a breath and spoke, “YOU! I NEED YOU!”.

The speed at which Terry made it to me was incredible. His movements were so swift and fluid that his feet never made a sound.

His arms wrapped around my body as he picked me up. My legs instantly found their home around his waist. As soon as his gaze met mine, our lips crashed into each other's. His tongue grazed the seam of my lips, begging for entry. I parted my lips and without pause, our tongues went to war. Each of us fighting for more.

I leaned back to catch my breath. I was shocked to discover that we were now standing in my bedroom. I was too wrapped up in that kiss to notice our location changed.

Terry softly placed me in the center of the bed. He slowly lifted his shirt above his head before tossing it across the room. His hands dropped to the top of his waistband.

I watched intently as his hands moved to remove his clothes. I was practically salivating in anticipation for his pants to fall. I knew what I wanted to see. Terry sensed my eagerness and released a rumbly laugh. “Patience, baby,” he said, removing his pants.

My eyes locked into the large tent at the front of his boxers. I reached out to palm the ever-growing bulge in need and desperation. My neediness had slowly built up in the pit of my stomach becoming a slow churning ache. Terry’s hand grabbed mine and brought it to his lips. He began gingerly kissing my inner wrist.

“Daddy,” I whimpered, pulling my hand away.

Terry's demeanor shifted as his hand once again grabbed mine. Interlocking his fingers in mine, he pulled my hand towards his chest. He placed it over his heart while leaning over me.

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.

I stared straight into his eyes. Lost for words was an understatement. For some reason, I fully understood the intention behind his declaration. This was between Havana and Terry, and this was NOT a scene.

Moments Later

“Say it, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” Terry said, placing his mouth back on my nipple. Using nothing but the tip of his tongue, he flicked the overly sensitive bud repeatedly.

My body was growing more and more enraptured by nothing more than Terry's touch. The feeling of his tongue and hands all over my body was intoxicating. I was in love, love drunk, and high off him.

“I'm yours,” I moaned out quietly.

“And… What else?” Terry asked, switching to my other breast.

Pushing my chest up, I wrapped my hands around the back of his head. Fully enthralled in the moment, my grasp on reality slipped.

“I'm… I'm enough. I'm enough,” I rasped almost chanting into the air.

Terry's licks became suckles as one of his hands found a home between my legs.

He moaned as he found pleasure in his own sentiments. “Enough for who?” he asked back in reinforcement.

“For you!” I screamed, feeling myself come undone as two of Terry's fingers pushed into my pussy.

The gasp I let out became trapped in my throat, leaving me choking on air.

“Breathe, ‘Vana. Hey, take a deep breath for me,” Terry pleaded, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

I swallowed hard and struggled to find air. This was too much. For the first time, I didn't know how to respond or react. The control of my body was no longer in my hands. Terry's voice quickly became the guiding light drawing me to whatever awaited me. Whether that was pleasure, happiness, or a combination of both, I would gratefully accept my fate after wholeheartedly surrendering to his every desire, urge, and craving. I was HIS, and his authority was absolute— there was no doubt about it.

“Look at me. Don't… you… ever… doubt… how much… I… love… you. Understood?” Terry demanded in between kisses as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of me.

“Y-yes. I'm sorry,” I whined, clenching around his fingers.

“All I want you to focus on is breathing. Let me handle everything else,” Terry whispered into my ear.

“Ughh….” I sobbed as tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

“Baby, I missed you,” he cooed, resting his lips against my chin.

“I… I mi-missed you, too,” I panted breathlessly.

Terry's lips covered mine in a kiss fueled by desire, stealing my breath and filling me with his. A heavenly set of plush full lips left a soft trail of kisses along my chin until they reached the side of my neck. Tongue swiping back and forth over the supple skin. I gasped as I felt his teeth nip on the sensitive area.

Every action led to one conclusion— this was yearning in its purest form. LOVE.

“Talk to me, ‘Vana. I need to hear something,” he whispered into the side of my neck. All while his two fingers were stealing my soul— slowly.

Against my better judgment, I attempted to speak. I whimpered in delirium as my mouth released nothing but haphazard babbles. All poor attempts at speech as words slipped from my recollection. I just hoped, for my sake, that my body could tell Terry what my mouth couldn't.

As I was sinking and falling simultaneously to a place I had never been, a new question arose. Is this what being stripped raw felt like?

Without my permission, Terry had pulled me into a state of vulnerability and surrender. Using only his hands and his tongue, he had left me exposed with nowhere to hide. I was being forced to hand over my heart and soul. I was finding myself with every kiss.

To myself, I was Havana Rose Taylor. A black woman who deserved love in all forms. I was an exquisite piece of art— rare and invaluable. I was flawed yet virtuous, in my own right.

To the man I loved, I was deserving and admirable. I was the world in human form. A woman capable of love— potent and everlasting. I was desirable and alluring in every facet of the terms. I was… HIS.

And most importantly, I was enough— for me and for Terry.

A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Taglist: @brattyfics @persethegawd @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @jimmybutlrr @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @pocketsizedpanther @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @dabratzchronicles @pinkpantheris @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi @helloncrocs @lovey-3 @curvyambitions @iburias @geee3bayyybeee3 @ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @prettypink-princesss @teeresaresa @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned

#thee reina writes #terry richmond #aaron pierre #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond angst #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond x black female oc #terry richmond x black plus size oc #terry richmond x plus size reader #aaron pierre x plus size oc #fav fics #fav writers #Spotify

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guzhufuren · 3 days ago

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Hey, I've noticed you've been pretty quiet lately and I hope you're doing okay. I know we're not friends or even mutuals so I'm sorry if I'm overstepping by messaging! I hope the world will treat you kindly and that you can find comfort and support if you need it 💕

hi sweetheart wow this is so genuinely nice and kind of you, thank you so much for caring to the point of reaching out

i'm on the way there! i will be okay, hopefully soon. it's not serious, i just had a medium sized break down after receiving a very negative comment on something i made, in mix with a bit of unrelated loneliness and yearning on top of that, plus many many 4am drowsy what-am-i-doing-with-my-life regretful thoughts that i have had in the last months swimming up. like for my unwellness history it's really only about 6 points on the scale where the maximum is 10, so not big. i turned all social apps off but couldn't shake off the distress caused by that one stranger on the internet being unkind to my project, despite knowing they were misunderstanding and were also not in a state to understand at all, so i was kind of confused about what's up with my brain and why it can't move on

and it was a good choice! because after being only with myself without any internet distractions for the first time in years, figured out in just a day that mood swings have been back for a while, over one month at least (so anger issues weren't totally Yunho's fault actually bless him), some other parts of mental health worsened too

got a grip on myself, went to my doctor, got back on meds, now i'm sleepy every minute of waking hours while my body is getting used to them again, but it's gonna be fine. received advice on how to write a mood log, turns out very helpful as additional treatment to keep hypomania and anxiety under control. i even started working out, doing memory exercises and preparing my exam notes tentatively, which is so hard and scary, oh my god, but i must. job search is even scarier but i'm working myself up to finding a good one with little, very very very very tiny steps but they are moving

in the first day of self made quarantine i rewatched the queer korean show Love for Love's Sake that cured me from depression for a while and from any possibility of suicidality for a lifetime last year. it didn't work the trick again, because i'm really not living in the best or even just calm psychological environment to let it do its magical healing thing the way it should, but it did give me new clarity and make me intensely cry some shit out, so that was also very nice

accidentally found the best fic ever and it brought me so much very needed comfort in the past week. it's sweet, funny and stress free. like a warm blanket. or a cup of vanilla cocoa that makes your cold toes tingle in winter. or a hug from the love of your life. first atz and woosan fic to enter my hall of all time longfic favourites. very rare honor but it deserves it completely

also found a bunch of bloggers who post videos of the ocean in Thailand, some even stream the beach 24/7. it's so cool, i watch it in the evenings for short periods of time. helps making it bearable to just survive here a little bit longer until i am able leave

i sort of of really like that when i don't spend 12 hours a day on the phone doing mind-numbing scrolling or posting, there is so much free time to do cool stuff? i have kinda felt like i can be back on here for a couple of days, but i still freak out a bit for two reasons. first, that bad comment is still hanging there and it still makes me too upset to open notifications or my own blog page, which is ridiculous but that's how my dumbass unwell-brain-made feelings are. so i will see how that goes away and i get over it like an adult. second, i'm scared to be sucked back in the addiction to the colourful little hellsite app so i usually end up throwing the phone away in panic after 5 minutes of the app being open. maybe i will work up to it more gradually, don't know, let's see how that goes too

thank you again my little treasure, i will happily take that kindness and comfort you offered here as you are a part of the world. and you can message without worrying anytime, no mutualship or officially labelled friendship necessary. i'm very cool with small amount of interactions, just not big on chatting online one on one for long and don't enjoy it super much. and also with how often i see you around we are considered friends for sure. so thank you again for being so sweet i really am so grateful to you for this, one hundred friend hugs in return

#asks #now i will log off for a day again because it took me much longer than necessary to type and im freaking out again #sorry must calm the spooky gazelle that my brain is you know how it is byebye

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patchworkcuddlebug · 19 days ago

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Human Error

An entry in the Tea Dolls prequel series.

Henrietta winced at the witch's touch against her back, pulling her closer. "All I have to do is hear you say it, dear. You know what do to."

The person closed her eyes, bracing herself for what's to come. "Yes, please, make me a doll." Her voice is wrapped in apprehension.

The witch's smile fades in an instant. She recoils from the girl on her lap, gently beginning to guide her to her feet.

"You should know it's no use lying to a witch."

Henri's eyes widens as she steadies herself on her feet. She's still blushing, excited from the sheer proximity. "I... wait, no, I thought..."

"It's clear that you have some hang-ups." The witch fixed her posture on the couch, completely disengaging from the more intimate situation. "That's perfectly normal for a person."

"No, I, I really do want to be a doll though!" The girl gestured to herself. "I wanna clean, and be useful, and have people be nice to me!"

The witch huffed, tilting her head. "But does that mean you're ready to give up your humanity?"

"Well..." she hesitated. "I mean, it's a pretty big deal, yeah, but... uh..."

The witch grabs her tea from the coffee table, placing a hand on her forehead. "If you're truly desperate, I'll hire you as a normal human maid while you figure yourself out. Just try not to linger in that generosity for longer than you'd like."

"Oh! Um..." Henri looked around, trying to keep her attention anywhere else. "Thanks... miss."

. . . . .

"Miss prefers iced tea, so you should begin to prepare it overnight. Are you familiar with how to cold brew?"

"Yeah, sorry, just..." Henri places her notepad onto the countertop, letting her write just a bit faster. "Did you say the mop was in the upstairs closet or the bathroom closet?"

"Henri..." Sugar sighed, putting the teabags it was holding back into the cupboard. "If this is too much for you, this one-"

"No, it's fine!" She perked up. "Sorry Miss Sugar, uh, this one forgot-"

"Henrietta." It lurched forward into the person's face. Its expression was unrelentingly cold, even with its forced polite smile. "You do not address dolls as Miss. That is a respect only reserved for your witch."

"Right... uh, sorry... Sugar" she took a step back as a shiver ran up her spine. She managed to stop the corners of her mouth from twitching up.

"As this one was saying." the doll effortlessly returned to its collected disposition of guidance. Buried deep within its stony veneer, showing only through empty implications, was recognition. "If you're feeling overwhelmed, we can take a break. This one can make you some tea, if you'd like."

"Yeah, uh... maybe just for a bit." Henri couldn't bring herself to look at the doll.

An awkward, anticipating silence.

"The tea room is just across from the kitchen."

"...I knew that."

Henri takes off, lost in thought. What if this was all just a big mistake?

She thought she wanted to be a doll, she really did. That feeling when it saw C... when it met Sugar was divine. It was really scared at first, but in an enticing, fluttery way. She wanted to feel more of it.

But... her mind kept drifting. What about her friends? She spent so much time thinking about others, trying to spend time with them and make them happy. How would they react to her becoming?

What if they stopped being comfortable around her? What if becoming changed how she talked, and acted, and they didn't want to be friends with her at all anymore? She saw how it changed... Sugar, how it totally shifted from...

...well, Sugar was already kinda grouchy. And yeah, she deserved to be grouched at, she was a total bitch to it before it became. Especially since it was always working, and always so stressed...

But now, Sugar just seemed so... so... in control, and collected, and... alright, maybe becoming was really great for it. But...

Sugar calmly walked in carrying a simple tea set, setting it just in front of Henri. It took the teapot and began to pour. "Moroccan style mint green tea. Please enjoy."

"Oh!" Henri was startled out of her thoughts, for only a moment. "Uh, yeah, thanks."

She took a sip of her cup while Sugar poured its own. It tasted alright.

"It's change, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"Your apprehension." Sugar set its tea down, turning in its chair to face the person. "You have a lot to lose if this turns out to be a mistake."

Henri looked away. "Yeah, I... I like what I am."

Sugar kept its solid disposition, wavering only with the subtly that could be seen by another doll. "Becoming isn't a death. You can still be what you are, and do what you do, only... as a doll."

"Yeah, but it'll be..." Henri gestures with her hand in a vague way. "Different."

Sugar tilts its head. "Explain why that is a problem."

Henri stammered, struggling to articulate herself. "I... I like my life! It's nice how it is! I like my friends, and I like my hobbies and interests and... what if that all changes?"

"...Go on." Sugar nods encouragingly. "What if?"

Henri blinked, struggling to put words together. "I... well, it... y'know!" She looked to Sugar, adrift in her words and desperate for a rock. "What if I don't like it?"

"You don't think you'll like it?"

"No, that... I didn't say that." Henri slumps back in her chair, almost pouting. "I'm just... I'm just scared."

There's a pause.

Sugar looks away, down at itself. "This one was scared, too."

Henri looks up, eyebrows raised.

"This one wanted to escape, it knew it did. But... it's such a big decision, it's hard to commit even if you know it's what you want."

Sugar placed its hand on the table, just in front of Henri. "But... this one knew that for every what-if about this one regretting it... there was a what-if about it being better than it could ever imagine."

Henri's posture softened as she let out a breath she had been holding for much too long. With just a little hesitation, she placed her hand over Sugar's. It didn't feel nearly as cold anymore.

. . . . .

"Is that one sure it can handle things on its own while this one's out?" Lemon asked, making faces into its vanity. Left, right, smile, frown. No creases in its foundation, its blush and eyeliner were even, and its lipstick was perfect.

"This one was a doll before that one became, remember?" Sugar assured, keeping itself still on Lemon's bed. "It can handle itself. Especially since that one's already been helping with the chores all day."

"Yeah, but... this is this one's first time out as a doll! What if something comes up and Miss needs help, or there's an accident that one needs help cleaning?"

Sugar sighed, with a smile on its face. "What-ifs."

Lemon leaned its head over the back of the chair, looking at Sugar upside-down, easily smiling back. "What if it has the best night ever, and what if that one does fine without this one."

"Good doll." Sugar nodded back at it. "Now stop fussing with that one's makeup, it looks lovely."

Lemon hops out of its seat, strutting towards the door. "Yeah, this one guesses it'll be pretty dark at the club anyway." As it spoke, Sugar stood up, ready to follow it out of the dorms.

Lemon lingered in the doorway, turning to face the other doll. "Hey, Sugar, this one wanted to... thank that one. For everything." It held its arms open, invitingly. "It never would've became if it weren't for that one's help."

Sugar gave the warmest smile that the other one had ever seen on it, before it wrapped its arms around it and pulled it close. "Of course. This one is so, so happy for that one."

After perhaps just a moment too long of the embrace, Lemon manages to pull away, eager to start its night and meet up with its friends.

"Wait, before that one goes..." Sugar began. "This one should probably apologize if it was too intense when you first met back up with it." The doll bowed its head. "It... was still mad about a lot of things from its humanity."

"No! No, please." Lemon smiled with just a little nervousness, and its blush got just a little bit deeper. "That was, uh... the best way to convince this one."

Lemon turned away and began walking, bringing a hand to its mouth to hopefully muffle the soft "Awawawa..."

#dollposting #empty spaces #this one's words #1.4k words #should this one make a tag for the tea dolls?#maybe not; everything is connect through its pinned post anyway #oh and sorry if it sometimes misses a day it means to post its finished drafts!#it can find itself busy with other tiring things and end up forgetting 8(#but it knows how many others love its writing so it will do its very best <3

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icewindandboringhorror · 10 days ago

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I'm so heavily anti-advertising that all pitches sound goofy silly to me/I can never take them seriously, so I have no idea how I'll manage to to advertise my game even if I do finally finish it soon-ish lol...

#Especially how so much modern media advertising is like... getting people excited about random tropes and stuff like #''Do you love enemies to lovers? Do you love sad stories that make you do a heckin CRY? Do you love big stupid dumbo muffin cake #sinnamon roll babies who are too good for this world? Have you ever wanted to read a blah blach blah" whatever stuff and it's like #... i cannot type that... I couldnt do it.. I couldn't even think of how to do it ghbjhbjh #I am such a literal person... Like I love when an advertisement is just like 'This product works well. Look at it. Buy it if you want. Ok'#You know what makes me want to read a book or watch a show or play a game? Reading a detailed plot synopsis or the full wiki page #for it and then deciding 'yeah I wouldnt mind sitting through seeing the events I just read about happen in more detail' lol #OR aesthetics. since I do often watch things JUST for the set/costume design. Sometimes I will watch stuff literally #just because I saw a picture of a costume in it that looked really cool and I want to sketch costume looks whilst watching #But aside from appearance like... little bullet point break downs of things that are in a story just ... do not do anything to me at all.#And i just hate 'selling' things to begin with. I don't want to have to convince people to like something.. they should just... like it...#LOL.. like.. just be born liking it. just like it automatically please. Dont make me beg to you like a weird little freak. So many commerci #als seem weirdly desperate and manipulative. Like those Truck/Car commercials that will have like a freaking dog crying and #a war vet in a wheelchair with the american flag in the background and a family hugging around a christmas tree or some shint and its #just like oh my GODDD... shut UPP.. you could literally not be MORE blantant about just trying to prey on peoples emotions to build #some sort of fabricated positive association with your product/brand.. begone.. Or brands having their own twitters where they post #~~relatable content~~ as a means of shallow audience endearment GGGRR..... ANYWAY.. hhrgh...................#Maybe that's something I can ask playtesters I guess like.. I feel like I don't know my own audience very well because I am not #much of a media person?? ironically.. Like I do enjoy MAKING media. But I've never been in a fandom. I've never read fanfiction. I've never #spent much time in those spaces. I've just never really had the inclination and don't personally derive much joy out of stuff like that #(since I'm already so focused on my OWN world and projects its like.. hard for me to even find the time and mental energy to expend on #others). Even when I finish a movie or game and really like it.. I just kind of like...move on? and don't really dwell on it much? At most #I will get into the worldbuilding of a piece of media and read the wiki for a while or watch Lore info or critical analysis videos. But I #never really care for or attach to the characters or the plot itself very much. So I feel like.. the way my brain works. I'm just not as #good at approaching things from that angle? Kind of like how if you're a lifelong vegetarian whos never eaten meat - you might #struggle to write an ad for fancy brand of steaks bc you'd be like... idk what meat eaters are even looking for? whats the selling point??#Which I'm not saying that I wouldn't play my own game. i AM definitely the audience for it. But it's more like.. I would play it for my own #very niche specific reasons that I think are different from what MOST people might want to play it for. So I need to somehow #tap into the minds of the Majority who play things for Normal Reasons than pure lore collection or whatever lol.

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sunnydayaoe · 29 days ago

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V sorry if this is invasive or weird or anything but why have all your petre cccc posts got that ooc tag? And reblogs off? Do you not like it or have u changed ur mind or sm lol

its not just the petre ones gahaha. its almost all of my cccc posts. its the vast magoirty of all my cccc posts. I just hate them all. they were by a different guy. I hate him. I hate all the work I made

also I hate getting notifs that remind me I was in the cccc fandom.

I contemplated deleting them all, but I didn't because one of my best friends liked some. so . yeahn

#anon #I love cccc still. I listened to it the other day and got very emotional. it makes me happy #but lord I do not. want to . go back to that fandom. ever. and I hate all the work I made for it with a burning passion #it honeslty pisses me off a bit how fixated on my petre posts people like this are. its like...#every time I denounce my cccc. there are so many people who go [do you hate petre?? your calling me a freak. I'm not a freak!!]#and Im' like. I didn't. even f ucking mention petre. fuck offf #not you specifcally anon. but other anons. got a lot of nasty ones when I said I disliked the direction my art was going and I'd be #going in a new direction #like hell. the fact that it was petre wasn't even the part I hated. I just hated how ooc it was. how little people cared about it being occ #someone litterly told me it didn't matter if it was ooc. it made me so angry I got nuesious. I don't want to write ooc characters.#thats' ass. that sucks.#there is osme petre work I did that I do think was in character!!! but peopel don't seem to care. I don't know. its annoying.

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just-eyris-things · 2 years ago

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Vent post. Because i feel like kicking a hornets' nest.

Honestly im just tired of how people will call someone ignorant/uneducated and will go for the throat for every little thing, while they themselves say shit like pierogis all the time. If you're going to point fingers at others, you yourself should be without fault.

The question is... can you?

#im just so tired of all the shit that i constantly see on the internet #ARTIST CANCELLED BECAUSE THEY DIDNT DRAW SOMETHING PERFECTLY #or ARTIST CANCELLED BECAUSE THEY USED A DIFFERENT COLOUR PALETTE #ARTIST CANCELLED BECAUSE THEIR IDEA OF A FICTIONAL CHARACTER ISN'T UP TO FANDOM'S STANDARDS #i bet other people also get shit like that all the time #for example my friend is a writer and he just happens to be a cisguy and whenever i mentioned it to people #they would instantly start saying that they are sure he writes shit like she breasted boobily down the stairs #or i remember how i got told off for making trahearne lives au because apparently #messing with canon is just as bad as falsifying information in history books #just stop for the love of whatever's devine #this has been boiling in me for so long i cant even express it #sorry for going off in the tags in case you decided to read them #peace out imma go and read a book and touch grass #finally its green and soft again after so many rains and storms so it will be a nice chilling time outside #oh btw proper plural is pierogi without the s. singular is pieróg. you want to add s - say pierógs #ngl that pierogi-pierogis is one of my biggest pet peeves #like i wont be stabbing you over it or throw a tantrum and i will just move on with my day i have better things to do in general than #than throwing fits and also im not omniscient myself #like i dont know all the words in english and my german knowledge is very scarce #so i in no way demand others know about pierogis #just give people some room to breathe for gods sake #ok ok ok i think im overwriting this and i cant edit tags on phone so now fr im gonna go and enjoy outside and watch the squirrels

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sisterdivinium · 2 years ago

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It's interesting to stroll around Fanlore reading discussions that took place in 2007 talking about the fractured nature of fandom on LJ and people interacting without having enough context (as in commenting on a post they did not read by a user they do not know) when you're living in 2023 and people distribute likes without reading anything or commenting; when there's supposedly "drama" of unknown origins happening in more than one website at the same time because there's no real "home base" for fandom activity anymore; and we're all carrying on with our lives reblogging things without even looking at previous notes and reactions to that same post even if out of simple curiosity...

#what gets me is the lack of discussion. i don't expect anyone to approach things in a more ~intellectual manner no #but i guess i expect a little more than what i see. i'd *like* to see a little more. more than just personal unfounded opinion #idk i have the distinct feeling that we're all screaming into the void only louder and louder and louder #(you will never convince me that twitter is a good place for discussion because it just isn't. it wasn't made for that #it doesn't support it. its very quick structure is part of why so many people have long recognised it as toxic social media)#(it's talking over one another in fragments. if you agree on there all is peachy but if you don't then lol good luck)#anyway. again. i do know tumblr isn't exactly proper for any of this either; the dashboard isn't designed for it #but it's not like i can convince anyone to switch to a slower and more text/reflection-based platform either now can i #i think about migrating every day but then i'd REALLY be screaming into the void #silly blabbering #i'm allowing myself to post this on this blog because it isn't strictly WN related but also it is. i hate twitter fandom lol #(also if you're wondering yes i did read that one for the bakhtin. in this house we love and support bakhtinian studies)#(just in case my last little essay on wn didn't clue you in regarding that lol)#ALSO i love the fact that the post (the actual post. if you click the link and follow through to the original post. which you should)#links to another post that goes to another post (i love these link black holes) where the author voices things i feel too lol #about crafting extensive essays and the expectation regarding their response #i sometimes think that LJ fandom is what made me choose my degree #why am i seeing myself through someone else's words written in 2006 ksjdfhksdjjhksdgjsd #and yeah yeah we should respond to other people too -- but how when no one is writing the sort of thing you want to/can reply to?#i'm not interested in the colour of beatrice's knickers (not that anyone has talked of that... afaik... but you get what i mean)

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nylonesques · 3 months ago

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god seeing good opinions about korekiyo on the tl that isn't just re-hashing the same old same old fandom-fed-and-raised bullshit is actually soo refreshing

#to be fair i love sooo many different interpretations of korekiyo some which hold more weight than others #ive got about 6 korekiyo wips in my google docs right now and theyre all about different interpretations. there's so much to explore #hes such an ambigious character. kodaka seems to be very clearly telling us something in his tweets though LOLL #regardless he is a creep and even if he was a victim that doesnt negate the fact he oh i dont know killed 99 fucking women #i could write essays on this but i am not going to because i do have a fear of other korekiyo fans #how dare you not think miyadera manipulated abused did this that and that im not saying that but i am saying shes fucking dead #and we're only getting korekiyo's perspective. and korekiyo is literally insane #two things can be true at once. perhaps. maybe she did abuse him and then he killed her and 100 other women #korekiyo nation we dont fucking know shit #and we never will. because its intended to be ambiguous. believe what you want to as long as you're not gripping throats about it

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 1 year ago

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While we're here, I just want to add an example of a good response to Harris' video.

In the first half of the video, Harris briefly mentions a creator called Lukeypoo (who now goes by Luke Stephens) who had plagiarised Harris' Bloodborne review, and his response at the time was to deny it, signal to his alt right buddies and insult Harris.

After the video came out, Luke Stephens made a post on his community page regarding it:

For those, who can't see the screenshots, it reads:

A video went up on YouTube last night that showed something I did 6 years ago in early 2017, of which I'm very ashamed. I've talked about it on stream plenty since then and try to be very open about it, but I know a lot of people haven't been watching me since 2017 or have not heard me discuss this before. I don't want to hide from my mistakes or deflect, so very plainly here's what happened:

I was just starting on YouTube and I ripped off a phenomenal video on Bloodborne. It was a fantastic video by hbomberguy and after finding it through a Reddit post I tried to take his 1.5 hour masterpiece and make my own suckier version at around 7 minutes. I copied the premise, jokes, structure, and then pretended like it was all just a coincidence that they were so similar. I was a 19 year old idiot who thought it didn't matter because "he's a bigger creator so it's fine" and "it's just the internet." When I was rightly called out for copying his video I dodged, lied, and even attacked and insulted the appearance of those holding me to account, including hbomberguy himself. I copied someone's video, in parts word-for-word, and I pretended like *I* was the victim and *they* were being unreasonable. Unbelievable. There is no question at all: I was in the wrong, fully.

Let me be very clear: I whole heartedly disown who I was back then and what I did. Politically, religiously, and even morally/ethically I was a person that I hate today. I was an extremist, a bully, a religious zealot, and above all, a prick. This event sparked a spiral in my personal life that I didn't document online, but that has led me to who I am today. Someone who tries very hard to respect my fellow creators, audience, and to uphold a high ethical standard for myself. I strive every day to be a better man for myself, my family and kids, and for the community around me. And that's why I'm writing this, because I don't think we should hide from our mistakes or pretend they didn't happen. I screwed up, big time, and I stole the hard work of an incredibly talented creator and for that I'm incredibly sorry. I was 19, hard headed, and above all arrogant and unwilling to acknowledge I had screwed up. It took a couple years after that before I could openly admit what I had actually done, and that it took that long is all the more shameful.

I don't expect a response or certainly forgiveness, but for what it's worth, I am truly sorry for everything, @hbomberguy

For the last 6 years I've been working my butt off to be someone I can be proud of being and I hope you all can see that the man I am today is not the shameful excuse of a person I was back then.

I've never watched a video or stream by Luke Stephens so I can't attest as to his content, but this is one of the best responses I've seen to any kind of accusation, and so I lean towards believing him to be a better man than he was six years.

I thinks it's important to highlight the good response/s to Harris' video, to remind ourselves that plagiarism is not such an immoral action that from which you can't redeem yourself (though in Somerton's case, I'm less sure of that) if you take accountability for your actions, and to remember that in most cases, we should give people space to grow and become better.

The swiftness and brutality of Hbomberguy’s complete evisceration of James Somerton’s career cannot be overstated.

#i saw this a few days ago and its stayed on my mind #and i havent seen many other people talk about it so i thought i would #also this is unrelated by im not gonna ever put this in an actual post so im going to use these tags to get it off my chest #i rewatched the video yesterday and it aas during harris' speech about how art is difficult and a skill #that i kinda had an epiphany i guess #(have not used that word in a while huh)#because thrice within the last few years #ive come across fics on ao3 where while i wouldnt call it plagiarism the authors did very much steal a considerable amount from my fics #some less than others #one of them used some of the exact same sentences as mine so i guess that one was plagiarism #but they all took a nontrivial amount of ideas or plotbeats or phrasings from my fics #and each time i was in three minds: 1) i found it kinda funny honestly though i cant articulate why; 2) i was flattered because i dont #really think my fics are worth stealing from; and 3) holy shit i baked one of the holy shit two cakes #i wasnt really upset by it especially because i know my work has been inspired by fics i love at times #but after rewatching harris' video #i realised it wasnt that i wasnt upset but that i wasnt allowing myself to be #because i didnt consider my work as something you could steal from? i didnt consider it worthy of that #like not as in ''oh i didnt know my art was that good'' but as in ''oh i didnt know my work was art''#so ive been allowing myself to be upset about it since then #and all those emotions are probably tangled up in the roots of the treehouse luke stephens' response is squatting in #because like #im not going to do anything about it like im not going to accuse the authors of plagiarism #even the one who stole exact sentences mostly because their writing is indicative of a 13 year old and mate im 23 #ive been writing since i was 11. i know what its like to be starting out as a newbie writer it just feels mean for me to call them out #and if theyve stolen lines from me theyre going to have done it to other people and im sure theres someone else who feels more comfortable #in approaching them about it #but anyway back to my point #im not going after any of these people in anyway but if i did id want their response to be like this

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 2 months ago

Text

One Piece Fighting Game AU

this au is inpired by the song Heart Attack by Chuu

hope you enjoy the designs i created most of them in a 2 hr long manic episode of just nonstop designing.

More designs of the vinsmoke sibs, the donquixote brothers, Hancock, Bonney, and Kuma

ASL dialogue video

some lore ive cooked up for it and design explainations:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

The school our main cast goes to is called the Doki-Doki Battle Academy and it's principle is currently Crocodile. It's previous principle was Nefertari Cobra, but maybe something nefarious happened to give crocodile the spot who knowwsssss~

Doki-Doki Battle Academy (DDBA) hosts many tournaments in their school stadium throughout the school year. The tournies act as tests for the students who are taking that field of study. There are other fields the school offers though, such as weapon crafting, medical staffing, and managing. Though, if the students in those fields with so learn fighting on the side that is also accepted.

In the Pro Fighting world, there are typically pro-league teams such as the Red Hairs and The Beasts. These teams have different levels to it such as Little Leagues (for younger fighters), Minor leagues (for adults on a regional level), and Major leagues (for profighting at a national level). You can also go solo though, much like Mihawk does.

The power system in this AU is pretty simple, different color of auras do different things, but the complexities happen when you start using the different auras in tandem. I might explain it more in depth in a different post, but i dont really know what to explain about it. mostly because i dont know everything about it, myself, yet lol

-----design talk now yippeeee-----

Luffy: i tried to make him very simple protagonist vibes, play into the genre a bit. i incorporated hearts into his design in his hat, his shirt, his arm bands, and his pants poofies. His hat was given him as a sign of love, his shirt is from his school and he loves his school, his arm bands are on his arms and he uses his arms to show his love by fighting or by hugging, and his pants arent scuffed or anything so the heart puffs on his knees protects them from getting damaged (his love protects him)

Sabo: Tried to give him a more mysterious vibe with that peacoat and hat that shadows his face. I incorporated hearts into his design in his eyepatch, his vest buttons, and his boots. His heart eyepatch covers up that nasty scar, so he's distracting himself from his past pain by focusing on his love, the buttons on his vest/hearts on his boots are more or less hidden most of the time so he tends to hide his love but when he lets his guard down (when the boot is rolled down) you can see his love plainly.

Ace: Now, i dont know if Ace will die in this au or not, but in canon, he expresses his love through his torso area, i.e. tattoo on his arm and back and also that Certain Moment, so thats where i put a big ol' heart on him. His pants are also ripped in a shape of a heart but its kinda hard to see, but its meant to symbolize how the damage he takes is his love.

Nami: All the orange in her design is in heart shapes or the shapes of tangerines, thats where her love is. I also made nami's staff a curtain rod. She uses the rod to produce wind when she summons water and then manipulates it to heat it up or cool it down. i tried to add little details like that and the bandages on her torso to show that although she's outwardly clean, she's still scrappy. Nami is in the managerial pathway at the DDBA.

Zoro: I didnt make him quite as bright or vibrant as the others, i kinda just tried to make him Just A Guy. Except for his Swords. His Swords are special, so theyre bright and saturated. I roughed him up, a bit, not too much. i made his varsity jacket be ripped open so it looks like the heart on the front was broken because zoro is very broken hearted.

Sanji: I made him look like a wannabe princely character. Very cheesy, gaudy charm. I made the hearts of his design (on his boots) look like they're sewn up. So at some point his heart was broken, but he's healing them by stitching them up with love.

Robin: The hearts in her design are hard to make out because she is hiding her love. The pink of her lacey undershirt is where the heart is and its being protected by a dark over layer. The many belts in her design, however, are meant to look like shatters in that protective layer. This is meant to represent how even though she's strongly protecting herself, that strength is still weak without any outside help. Robin uses her multiplication abilities to simply multiply the shape of her arms like how she does in canon.

Chopper: His hearts are on his viles and his hat, love was given to him when he was given that hat, and he shows his love by making his healing potions. On another note though, chopper is a Transtormationalist, which is basically the zoan fruits of this world. His model is the Reindeer and his body has naturally started morphing into that form, too. Chopper is in the medical program at the DDBA

Usopp: Usopp's hearts on his pants patches signifies the new loves he’s accepted into his once lonely life. He fights with his sling shot and his ammo is seeds he's found savaging through forests or just growing himself. the white and grey auras he commands lessen the air resistance of his projectiles and makes them go a lot faster, and once they hit their target, he makes the plant grow super quickly, like how it does in canon post-ts.

Franky: Franky's hearts are everywhere and they're bright. he doesn't hide his love and he's built love for himself to wear on his person. Franky is one of the weapon masters at the school and he's a SUUUUPER cool teacher.

Brook: the hearts in his design are his Afro and his bag. I think i read somewhere that brook has kept his Afro so that Laboon can recognize him when he sees him again and that is just so loving to me so his Afro is in the shape of a heart. His bag is also in the shape of a heart, but the bag is being weighed down by whatever he's carrying inside of it, signifying the burden of the love he carries.

Jinbei: Jinbei is a Transtormationalist, Model: Whale Shark. the heart in his design is the tattoo on his chest for his old team. He's the driver of Luffy's bus and if you do enough dialogue options with him instead of skipping the bus cut-scenes, you get the option to battle Jinbei. If you do, he takes off his jacket revealing the pro-league he used to be in and then he decimates you. it is impossible to win the battle.

Koala: the colors i used for her are peachy colors, signifying what a peach she is :)))) her goggles and the buttons on her suspenders are the hearts on her design, signifying how her love is looking out for others and how love keeps herself up.

Vivi: Her hair is a big ol heart but its upsidedow, signifying how the love she feels often makes her look at things incorrectly. Also the rips in her tights are hearts, much like ace's are. the damage she takes is how she shows her love.

Crocodile: his hook is a heart, he loves fighting. i like the idea that when a student needs a text book and and asks him for one, he gives it to them by spearing a hole through one he has in his coat and handing it to the student who has to just live with a textbook with a big-ass hole through it.

Perona: the hearts in her design are on her sleeves and on her hat. The joke about the sleeves is that she wears her heart on her sleeves. but the hat, its meant to look like more or less a cage for the heart, her love is what traps her.

Mihawk: his hearts are on his weapons, he fucking loves fighting.

Shanks: The hearts in his design are only on his torso area, the locket around his neck and the deep unbuttoned shirt makes it look like there's a heart in the negative space, and the heart patch on his jacket, the loss of his arm and the lack of something there is symbolic for the love he has given.

imma be real, i didnt put that much thought in the heart positionings for yamato buggy or law. I kinda was swept up in Hot Man, Pathetic Man, and Hot Pathetic Man.

Uta: she's based off of Cupid, so she doesn't have any hearts really in her design but her whole persona is based off of a symbol of love and how it can turn malicious.

also in general, the shines on people's hair are meant to look like a heart-rate monitor's peaks and troughs. And the shading i did just by drawing all the shading then desaturating that area

WOWEE that's a lot of designing wtf was i on when i did all this.

if you got to the end, thank you so very much for reading! i hope you enjoyed my ramblings :)

again, there is more to come with this AU so Stay Tuned, Folks!!!!!!!!!!

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