#but that’s really just an idea just a thought just a consideration not like

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Jello Incident

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You come home from work and tell Quinn all about the jello incident at school and then fall asleep on him.

Notes: For the sake of my American audience I have changed Jelly to Jello...um, life imitates art or something like that?

Honestly this is a silly little fluffy fic because sometimes life throws you events that inspire you and sometimes (all the time) you just want to write cute shit.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

The only thing you want as you trail in from a long day of teaching is to take your shoes off and curl up on the couch next to your boyfriend. It's why you're so quick to drop your bag at the front door, very little consideration for the work laptop inside or your water bottle that gives a loud clank. You're practically kicking your shoes off half way down the hallway, one kicked off so hard it goes flying and hits the wall beside Quinn's stupid painting of a monkey with headphones on, before making your way to the couch where Quinn is watching a hockey game, what looks to be a rerun of his most recent game actually. Probably trying to figure out what went wrong and what went right.

"Hey, baby," He greets you as you press a kiss to the top of his hair on your way past the back of the couch, smiling at the familiar gesture, arms already open and ready for you to join him, the game far less interesting than you and your day. Especially after the third run through of it. He's watched it so many times he's not even sure he's comprehending what's happening anymore.

"Hi..." you sigh out, flopping down on top of Quinn on the couch, face pressing into the crook of his neck as his arms come to wrap around you, running over your back in soothing motions.

"Rough day?" He huffs out a laugh as you almost crush him into the couch, not that he'd ever complain about having you on top of him. An ideal way to die to be honest, being smothered by his girlfriend. At least he'd die happy.

"Nggghh," You groan out into his neck, wondering how on earth you were going to explain your day because, "There was a jello incident..." You lift your head to look at him and Quinn's look of confusion, one brow raised, green eyes a little wide says it all. It's how you felt at walking in to the situation itself. Baffled. How does one even begin to explain a jello incident, how on earth did you even get involved in a jello incident when you taught teenagers not toddlers...

"A...a jello incident?"

"Yeah...." You press your cheek against his chest, settling in to recount your day, "There was a sub next door and...I heard him screaming at the kids, so obviously I decided to go make sure everything was okay..." A stupid decision really...you should have remembered the age old adage of 'not my circus, not my monkeys' it would have saved you a ridiculous amount of stress.

"And jello factors into this how?" Quinn twists one of his legs with yours, locking you closer against him as his fingers start to scratch over your scalp in a soothing pattern.

"Would you believe me if I told you the grade 7s had decided to throw pots of jello at each other in Religious Studies? And some of it hit the sub...and I had to take 3 kids into my room as punishment and..." You can't help the way you snort and the thought of it because...fuck, it's ridiculous.

"And?"

"And one of them was sat there with jello on his shoulder the entire time!" You can still picture it, a 12 year old sat with bright pink jello blobs wobbling on his shoulder and cheek because he hadn't bothered to clear it up, proof of his guilt physically on him.

"And you didn't laugh?"

"No, I didn't laugh!" You laugh along with Quinn, mouth pressed into his hoodie while you look up at him from where you're lying on his chest. His own laugh has you bouncing slightly as his chest rises and falls and it doesn't help you to try to take the situation seriously.

"I'd have laughed, baby, sorry."

"That's why you're not a teacher, Quinn..." You roll your eyes even though you know he'd actually make an excellent teacher if he ever decided hockey wasn't for him anymore. He had the patience for it, the calm temperament and steadfast approach.

"Hey! I'd be a great teacher...maybe..."

"Keep telling yourself that." You sigh out, letting the silence fall over the two of you, just enjoying the sound of his heart beating steadily beneath your ear, the feel of his fingers running through your hair, trimmed nails scraping across your scalp and the back of your neck.

You hum as your eyes start to close, feeling like you might fall asleep right there like that with Quinn's warmth against you, the sound of a hockey game playing in the background, Shortie singing Quinn's praises again.

"You wanna watch a movie and cuddle?" He mumbles into your hair, snuggling you closer to him as he reaches for the remote.

"I might fall asleep, the jello incident has me wiped.." your eyes are barely open, feeling like you might drop off at any moment. Not helped by how warm Quinn is, how utterly comfortable it is to lie on him like this.

"That's okay, baby, you can fall asleep on me. I don't mind." He huffs out a laugh, watching the way your eyes blink open as if you're shocking yourself awake every few seconds. You're adorable as you try your best to refuse to nod off, determined to stay awake for Quinn.

"You sure?" You lift your head again with some effort, taking in the soft smile Quinn sends your way, the genuine affection in his eyes.

"Certain, baby..." You plop your head back down on his chest at the reassurance, snuggling closer and letting your eyes close properly this time, "Dune Part 1?"

"Dune Part 1." You mumble even though you both know you're going to be asleep in less than half an hour.

If he's being honest there are few things Quinn likes more than you falling asleep on him or around him. There's something about it, the complete display of trust and comfort, that you're so comfortable around him that you can just fall straight asleep, that fills him with a sense of masculine pride. It's what has him reaching for the blanket on the back of the couch, pulling it over your back so you don't get cold. It's what has him slipping his hand under your shirt, tracing small circles into the warmth of your skin, the sort of circles that always help you drift off. It's what has him keeping the volume of the movie low because he's not really watching it anyway, he's watching you.

He spends most of the movie just watching the way you breathe against him, slow and even, so deeply asleep that you start to drool a little on him. He knows you'd hate him to see that, but he finds it adorable, a compliment really that you can sleep that deeply around him.

Every now and then you shuffle and twist in your sleep, strands of hair falling into your face and each time he pushes them out of the way, tucking them behind your ears so that they don't annoy you in your sleep.

He wants this, he thinks, for the rest of his life. You coming home from a mad day of teaching, some ridiculous story on your lips, him holding you close while you drift off, being the comfort, the safety you deserve at the end of a long day. Maybe eventually a couple of kids, tucked in besides you, him shushing them so that mommy doesn't wake up. Maybe a dog, or a cat, you always said you wanted a cat...

Yeah, he thinks this might be the sort of normal that he wants for the rest of his life.

[nabi-unveiled]

Flipping the Characters in Futtara Doshaburi

This show is a vibe, and I'm vibing with it. I'm loving everything about these two lonely people desperately seeking intimacy. Watching episode four in the car while the rain poured around me only added to the vibe. That said, being in the car means I can't do my normal screenshot process so semi-relevant gifs it is.

We start with Hagiwara descending into the depths. I mentioned after episode 3 that he still had a more positive outlook on his circumstances. But he's now on his way into the hole where he won't be able to gloss over his unhappiness. Sei is already in the hole. He has been there for a while, he knows he's there, and he's somewhat resigned himself to it.

This change in Hagiwara's attitude is reflected in our aesthetics too. While Hagiwara's home had bright and warm elements last episode, the door to his house is cold and dark after their dinner. It's no longer welcoming. The restaurant is where the warm colors resided.

However, the truly interesting thing to me about this show is in how much this show has flipped the character expectations.

It's flipped the idea of "good guys" and "bad guys" - particularly in a drama that's definitely leading towards cheating. It's pretty standard fair in a cheating drama for the partners to be painted as not caring or evil. But as Hiragawa and Sei make clear in their exchange after the meal, nobody really is in the wrong (yet). It's really unfair to all of them. I actually think Sei's partner has the shortest end of this stick thus far, but that's a different discussion.

The partners of our leads are caring. They cook for our leads. They clean up for our leads. They are kind. But they offer companionship, not sex. This makes them "cruel". It's cruel to be kind.

Our leads actually have only shown minimal considerations towards their partner. Sei sprayed perfume and Hiragawa goes to his girlfriend's social events, but they aren't the ones doing the major acts of service. The have mainly shown care to each other, not their partners. And they mainly want sex (and intimacy, but...the dialogue keeps saying sex) from their partners. In most other shows, our leads would be the "bad guy". The boyfriend who is obsessed with sex and has you do all of the work. But this show is clearly demonstrating that while romance may be in the little things, the little things cannot fill the empty hole. And it's okay to want that hole to be filled.

The characterization of our main leads has flipped as well. The initial setup in episode one depicted Hagiwara as a bit of a bumbling oaf. He sent an email to the wrong address. He forgot to pick up his ID card. Sei, on the other hand, was initially portrayed as the fastidious one handling a business need and admonishing Hagiwara for wearing an id tag that wasn't company issued.

But we have learned that those were false impressions. Hagiwara is good at his job. It's made clear that he's good at planning the company outings. He's good at sales. He's the responsible one gathering and returning the umbrellas. He's the "picky" one at the grill making sure the grilling is done correctly. Sei is the one who stands in the rain and acts a mess. We now know he likely reacted to the id tag because of his complex feelings about who designed it, not because he actually cared about the rules. It's an interesting switch up.

There's also some interesting flips in that Hagiwara is a gregarious guy who talks a lot (he's in sales after all). He not only goes to social events on the regular, he plans them. But he never says what he actually wants. That characterization is more common, but it's still an interesting dichotomy. He is tumblr - only saying his deepest thoughts when writing to a stranger.

Meanwhile, Sei says exactly what he wants. The man is crude and rude, but he's also open with his thoughts. Many taciturn, loner characters are blunt, but few are as open as Sei. He just lays it all out on the table. I wish I could catch the linguistics of Japanese to know if he's actually using rude speech patterns as well, but that's outside of my skillset.

Being a prickly porcupine, Sei is used to people being put off by him. He said earlier that he wasn't nice. And he's not. But we still LIKE him and we still FEEL for him. And that's incredibly difficult to pull off in a show that clocks episodes in at under 25 minutes.

Sei fully expected that Higawara would back off and only give him courtesy greetings once he found out his identity. His friend from college did just that this episode. A few courtesy greetings followed by "Oh you don't have LINE. Guess we won't talk then. Bye." Fujisawa is the only one that seems to have put up with his personality. But Higawara, as bad as he is at expressing his own thoughts, feels comfortable with Sei. He keeps reaching out. He reached out through e-mail. He reached out with an umbrella. He reached out with an invite to treat Sei for helping. He reached out with a dinner invite. And unlike his partner, Sei responds.

For Sei, whose desire to talk keeps getting shut down by his partner, this invitation explicitly to talk is a lifeline. He always responds, taking any hint of Hiragawa reaching out to initiate an entire, probably way-too-honest conversation. After all, the hole is deep.

By the end of the episode, Hagiwara has fully descended into the underground thanks to our pregnant friend spilling the tea. In a bright environment with a lot of light no less (enlightenment I dare say?). He's reaches out to his partner in a final attempt and gets shut down. So he reaches out to Sei. And, Sei does what he always does. He responds. He welcomes someone joining him in the underground. At the end of the day, they both crave the intimacy this connection is providing. But as the storm glass predicts....rain is coming.

How did they fit that much meaty stuff in a 25 minute episode?!

[meowzfordayz]

what it means to stay

Author’s Note: sat down to write something 🤓, lost interest in the OG idea 😵‍💫, was about to play Sims 2 😅, and then suddenly felt inspired to write this instead! 🥳 What does it mean to stay? Aka — some hope, some angst, and some *ahem* 😏😏😏 unexpected sidetracking as well. 🤭

what it means to stay

Kanroji Mitsuri x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: 18+NSFW, cream!pie, death content, explicit language

~faqs~

“Do you have to leave?”

You raise an eyebrow

“Mitsuri…”

“I’ve invited you to move in a bajillion times. What’s stopping you?”

You sigh, “I love you.”

“And I love you!” she grins, “So stay!”

“I don’t want to intrude.” 😕

“Intrude on what? [y/n], I want you here.”

“But-”

“Do you not want to be here?”

She doesn’t seem hurt by that thought

Only curious

Considerate

Wanting to better understand you

Wanting to understand how to love you better

You take a breath

Another breath

A lonnng breath 😮‍💨

And then, you take a step

“I do want to be here.”

She waits

“Constantly.”

She nods

Encouragingly, adoringly, all in-ingly

“But what if I’m too much? What if you only want me here because I’m not here? What if once I’m here, you don’t want me here? What if you like the idea of here, but not actually here? What if-”

“What if you deserve to want things? What if you deserve to be wanted? And what if you want me? And what if I want you? What if that’s enough?”

Your heart beats in your throat

She smiles your favorite smile

The smile that tells you This is it baby, you and me 💞

“I’ll be here if you go. I know you’re not really leaving,” she winks, “I know you’ll be back tomorrow.”

She reaches for your hand, your grip on the doorknob loosening by the second

“But I’d love it, if you stayed.”

“You’re leaving.”

Your stomach sinks when Kyojuro swivels to face you, the front door ajar as his expression shifts to something almost tender

And entirely regretful

“I am.”

“Was it something I did?” you murmur

“No-”

“Something I said?” you press

“Not re-”

“Something I didn’t do? Or didn’t say?”

Are you desperate or in love?

“[y/n]-”

Is there a difference anymore?

“Was it even about me?”

“No.’

The absence of fault does absolutely nothing to quell the swelling tightness in your chest

“I am going to leave you eventually.”

“Never!”

“Love,” his voice is low, “My dear, sweetest love,” pained, “My life is not my own.”

“What does that mean?!” you think you’re shrieking, indignant and fierce

Truthfully, you’re whispering

Numb and evaporating

“I will likely die.”

“Then die loving me.”

“You deserve a love that can live. A love that can last.”

You crumple, knees on the floor, butt on your heels, tears in your palms

“Don’t I deserve to choose?”

“I am so sorry.”

—

He’s wrong, of course

You knew it then

And some part of him knew it too; just not a big enough part

—

Your love does live

It does last

Many, many, many moons after he has passed

“Where are you going?”

You hesitate at his tone, a simple To get us some water refusing to slip off your tongue

Silence

The floorboards creak as he sits up, eyes a discerning shade of wilted lavender

Minutes ago, they’d been watered and full of life

Minutes ago, you’d been straddling his hips, the prettiest expression you’ve ever seen splayed out before you as he came inside of you, the gentlest of hands clutching your waist, cock twitching and throbbing

Such a contrast from when they’d gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks as he fucked into your slick and sore pussy, chasing his orgasm with incoherent groans and whimpers, your back arched and mouth opened so pretty

“So that’s it.”

Your heart cracks at his indifference

“Sanemi-”

“Whatever.”

“You really think I’m leaving?” you ask, soft and aching, “Just like that?”

He frowns, “Hold up,” thoughts recalibrating, “I asked you-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you interrupt, “Well. I mean. I’m going to get us some water. But,” you gulp down a fragile emotion, so eager to reassure—to love—the fracturing man in front of you, “Why on earth would I be going anywhere?”

He shrugs

“Because it was just sex.”

You smile despite yourself, clarity finally dawning

“Not to me,” you say firmly

He swallows thickly, throat bobbing as a lightness threatens to overcome his chest

“And not to you either,” you declare, “You’re stuck with me now.”

He doesn’t bother denying it as you blow him a kiss, only mostly starstruck as he makes a show of catching it and touching it to his cheek

I am so fucked he realizes as he watches you leave So fucking in love

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Trust a man to announce that he’s up and running away as soon as you express even the slightest bit of frustration 😐

“You just said you’re stressed, cranky, sore, tired, upset, at the end of your rope, and that you want mochi… so I’m going to get mochi.”

…

…

Your thoughts might have been a tad harsh 😅

“Oh.”

“I’m not leaving leaving.”

“You’re not?” 🥺

“Of course not. Hold onto that end of your rope a little longer for me, ‘kay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I love you. I’ll be back.”

—

Tomioka Giyuu, emotionally intelligent fellow that he is, returns with much more than mochi 🫡

“You’re actually the best.” 😍

He smiles softly at you from the bathroom doorway, your body submerged in a bubble bath, the candles on the vanity flickering as he makes his way to you

“ I know.” 😌

He even does a face mask with you

[mr-damian-s-power]

(Part 1)

-

To add onto this idea, Beelzebub and Mammon are actually good friends (because I don't see why they wouldn't be) and have a mutually beneficial relationship.

For this idea, I've rewritten Greed as a whole. Instead of a circus, it's a huge casino. We're talking city-sized casino! All flashing lights and obscenely garish colours. Slot machines and poker tables as far as the eye can see. Hundreds, if not thousands, of high stakes games going on at the same time. All of this is overseen by Mammon, who holds daily games of poker with the most powerful and influential Demons in all of Hell.

Now, onto their relationship! What Mammon does is sorts out Bee's vast customer base whose vice happens to be gambling. Bee will coerce them into taking a trip over to Greed, giving them the mindset that whenever they lose, they're just one go away from hitting it big. Inevitably, they will lose all of their money to the rigged games and come crawling back to Bee to be loaned more money. Mammon makes a jackpot off of these suckers and Bee is able to get them into the 'selling their souls' phase.

Mammon is one of Bee's most high profile customers, often coming to her's for the real good stuff, which she's more than happy to supply for him to maintain his considerable bulk. She's a frequent VIP patron to Mammon's casino.

She also likes to smack his big belly, impressed in his indulgence into sweet sweet excess.

-

Thoughts?

[chvoswxtch]

this is probably extremely niche but frank castle x f reader x dean winchester? romcom or drama (directors cut if I'm allowed lol) whatever works best for you!

I would love you for eternity if you'd write that 💜 (I already do but 🤫)

okay I know you asked for a romcom but I am making an executive directorial decision to make this an action bc why I never thought of putting these two murder boyfriends together is beyond me but also this idea popped into my head and I need to share it with you so

the studio is moving in a different direction but I think it's one you'll be pleased with :)

blurb below the cut

10 things I hate about you starring frank castle & dean winchester

For two men that weren’t scared of anyone or anything, neither one of them could look you in the eye. They could feel the weight of your glare as you stood there with your hands on your hips, making them feel like children getting silently reprimanded with just a look. Dean was the first to speak up. Clearing his throat, he mustered up that cocky bravado and flashed you his usual charming smirk.

“You know, it’s really not as bad as it-”

“No.”

Immediately the smirk disappeared, and he swiftly closed his mouth with a nod, averting his gaze back to the floor. Frank’s dark brows knit together as he shot Dean a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look, to which Dean silently responded to with a clueless shrug and annoyed expression.

All you ever asked from the two of them was to be careful. You knew what they did was dangerous, that there was always a risk for injury, or more permanent consequences you didn’t even want to think about. You knew they weren’t invincible. But Dean and Frank were forces to be reckoned with by themselves, so when they went after something together, they usually came home virtually unscathed. 

To see the two most dangerous men you’d ever met in your life, who were feared by men and monsters alike, come home covered in blood looking like they’d been through hell and back, needless to say you panicked and that panic turned to fury at their recklessness. 

Seeing the mixture of emotions on your face, Frank finally spoke up, lifting his bloodied hands in a show of placation.

“Look, we’re alright-”

“You’re bleeding all over the goddamn floor.”

“It’s just blood, with a little bleach it’ll-”

Snapping your head towards Dean, you looked at him in irritated incredulity.

“I’m not worried about the fucking floor, asshole.”

Dean and Frank shared a look. They’d never seen you this upset before. Frank let out a deep exhale, looking at you with those warm brown eyes that made you weak in the knees.

“Hey, we’re okay. We made it home, yeah? A few more scratches than we intended, but we’ll be fine. I promise.”

Frank kept his voice gentle, trying to soothe you with his words. Dean on the other hand seemed to be holding his breath, like he was scared you’d rip his head off if he said one more wrong thing. Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, reaching out to gently take your hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. When you let out a deep breath at the physical contact, the tension in the room seemed to slowly fade along with the tension pent up in your body.

“Attagirl, there we go.”

Frank pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“C’mon, you know we ain’t made of daisies.”

“Well you’re not made of steel either.”

Letting out a deep chuckle, Frank nodded and gave you a soft kiss before heading down the hallway to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom. Now that the mood was considerably lighter, Dean swaggered over with a flirty smirk.

“You know, if it’ll make you feel better, you’re welcome to strip me down and kiss it better. As a matter of fact, right below my belt-”

“Dean, shut the fuck up.”

Shaking your head with an exhausted laugh, Dean grinned and laughed himself. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you tight into his side, leading you down the hall while pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“C’mon baby, me and Grumpy need your loving touch.”

[spookyboywhump]

could he have given alexei away to another deity? sent him to some place of worship for "training?" made some kinda deal where alexei gets to leave but he has to come back for a week/month or something each year or nicholas will kill him with god powers?

I like those ideas but I have a feeling Nicholas would’ve wanted to keep Alexei. To himself. Even after he grew bored of him :)

[musical-chick-13]

I hate when something looks like it would be RIGHT up your alley and the cast is pretty stacked, but there's one person in said cast who is just. Genuinely a horrible human being.

[uniquezombiedestiny]

...

[mermaidsirennikita]

People are ridiculously entitled and it’s genuinely so disheartening. Books are someone’s ART. You don’t just get to alter a name in someone else’s creative work. (I’m appalled people out there think this is remotely acceptable - writers are not court jesters nor do they exist to please everyone - no human being nor their creative work does, in fact!) Thanks for putting your various responses out there! Here’s hoping people learn to respect and appreciate artists and creators once again

Quoth Nora Roberts:

I am not here to be a slave to certain reader’s wants, needs, whims. Again, I write what I write, and these are MY characters, in my books. Not yours. They are yours to enjoy or not, but they belong to me, they come from me...

You don’t have to agree, but I’m not writing for your particular point of view. Again, I’ve explained my reasons for this. I won’t do so again. My characters, my books, my decision. If you want something else, read something else.

And yes, I said that, too. Blast away, it changes nothing. I am not obliged to meet an individual’s demands.

So.

First off:

If you're really super chill about the idea of being able to change what writers write just because you didn't like a detail you think is small and irrelevant, I would sincerely encourage you to read La Nora's full thoughts on similar issues... and yeah, I'm gonna equate something as "small" as a name with what Nora's talking about here. Because it is ALL the author's domain. I've never personally subscribed to the idea that a work "isn't yours anymore" once it's out in the world. The way people interpret and interact with it isn't yours, sure. But it's still your creation, and you should be the only person with control over the content.

... and sometimes, I, as a reader, don't like what authors do with their content. I get it. I don't like that Lisa Kleypas edited her work years after publishing it, because I'm big on the "own what you wrote originally even if it's uncomfy" train... (for the most part--editing the fetishization of Cam and Kev would've made sense to me). And I don't think there's anything wrong with readers pointing out problematic shit in a writer's work, offering critique in an open forum, as Smart Bitches, Trashy books did when reading Hello, Stranger, which I speculate may have prompted some of Lisa's edits.

But! I can't say that it would ever be my right as a reader to, say, use future technology to tell my reading device "edit out the times Cam says shit that reads super fetishized". It's just kind of repellent to me to imagine rewriting someone's work in any way without their permission. Fuck, I don't even like the idea of estates releasing sequels or revised versions of books unless the author indicated that such was in their wishes in their will. (See: the TWO official Gone with the Wind sequels/prequels/whatever authorized by Margaret Mitchell's estate.)

We, as readers, have our lanes. The writers have theirs. And sometimes, as writers, they do tiny things or BIG things in their lanes that we dislike. (I love Tiffany Reisz's Original Sinners series, for the most part. I really, REALLY hate the most recent book in the series. HATE. IT. But the only thing I can do about that shit is just pretend that book never happened, which I actually can fairly efficiently because I do in fact control what my brain does. Or, seek out books that give me what that series didn't with that most recent book. Sierra Simone's do a bangin' job.) But you know... Not only do I not think it is safe for me to merge into their lane... I don't want writers to feel like they have to submit to demand and give away pieces of their work in order to keep selling.

(And honestly? For the vast majority, I don't think it would make enough of a difference anyway--writers are often sold bills of goods with new strategies or tech. "This will change the way you sell books". Most writers won't ever be able to write full time anyway, and I find the way that this fantasy that you'll be able to do otherwise with THIS TECH optimizing your writing time, or THIS SUBSCRIPTION increasing the eyeballs that will see your book... Scammy. Not all of it's bad! But the selling strategy that you'll make more money... If you're selling on KU, if five extra people buy your book you're still making pennies, so it's gotta be more than one thing that converges to create the sale, and a lot of that, I gotta say, is word of mouth and people just LIKING YOUR SHIT. And I'd argue that they're more likely to like your shit if you're invested as a writer.)

Second:

No need to thank me! I honestly think that the majority of readers do appreciate what writers do (or don't feel either way about it and just read like people have always read lol) but I don't know. I can't really tell what it is--the sort of "fandom" that's been created around books (and like, author fan clubs and such have always existed, but obviously the accessibility is so different), new tech developing very rapidly when for centuries books were relatively stagnant technologically speaking, the fanficification of EVERY type of media it feels like... But the sense of entitlement that certain readers feel does seem to have grown. Or maybe it's simply become more visible. I mean, Nora Roberts has from the dawn of her writing career taken off had fans that can communicate with her, and I'm sure many have written letters like "Go give these characters a baby :(".

My biggest thing is always going to be this: some books ain't gonna be for you. There are books that sound so Caroline. I read them, and for whatever reason--writing style, one character choice, something ephemeral I can't name--they aren't. Everyone else loves these books. I'd love to love these books. I'd love to discuss these books. I'm not in the party. And that's FINE. Not every party is going to be a party I'm down for! One of my best friends loooooves Tessa Bailey and Tessa-like contemporaries. Tessa, by and large, doesn't work for me. So my friend and I can't discuss a lot of books in depth. Do I wish historicals worked for her so that I could nerd out with her? Sure! But I can't make something that doesn't work for her work for her, and I can't make Tessa's books work for me.

And I know that people will be like "it's just a name bitch", but... it's a slippery slope to me, just like ALL of AI and AI-related tech has been a slippery slope. Like, y'all said AI wasn't gonna be a big deal and would just make things easier, and people are now selling AI-written books under their names. Everyone said that authors would have control over how AI interacted with their books, and books are being scraped for AI on the daily.

I do not want anyone to have final control over what is and isn't in a book but the person who wrote the book. I do not want writers to feel like they need to cede any amount of control over the copy in that book over to readers in order to succeed.

And I honestly think it would be a lot healthier for everyone involved if we as readers (viewers, general audiences) just accepted that we don't get everything we want, and creatives are not here to dance to our tune. They are people, and they want to tell the stories they want to tell. Your power? Is in your dollar. If you don't like that shit, don't buy it. If you don't want to support it... don't! Fuck, if you want to talk shit on the internet about how the most recent book in the series was absolutely not for you, that's your right, too.

I don't want you fucking with a single word on the page, though. Feel free to go write your own shit--prosper! But that part of what Nora said that rings true to me most is "they come from me". These books come from writers. You have them because of those writers. So, I don't know, dude. Just take what's there, and if you dislike it, spit it out and move on to the thing you will like. Authors aren't churn factories to produce what you want, and ROMANCE as a genre, however commercial it is and however much it does have that One Rule that defines it as a genre... Is still something that writers should be allowed to experiment with. That's the work writers put in. The work readers put in? Finding shit that works for us. And I'm telling you... With a little practice, it ain't hard. How do y'all think I have all these books to recommend? Lmao

[couldbebetterforsure]

Chance’s loser dad: If the woman you love is arguing with you, just kiss her! That’ll shut her up!

Certified Angel™️ Suzu Orimaki and the cool men of the Orimaki family: If the woman you love is arguing with you, just listen to what she has to say and communicate with her!

[dahldahlbills]

I really need to get serious about personal projects again

[selvepnea]

Thinking about. That one post about art. And how it's never good enough. Since you're the one that made it. And how. It might relate to how I view myself?

[dayurno]

kevjean

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

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.

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[reimenaashelyee]

Campaign to make The God of Arepo an award winning work and win a literal brick as a trophy for the authors and for Tumblr community as a whole (SUCCEEDED!!!! Update below)

As the artist for one of The God of Arepo comics, my version is up for consideration for the Ignatz Awards for Outstanding Online Comic.

For those of you who don't know the Ignatz is one of the highest industry awards that "recognize outstanding achievements in comics and cartooning by small press creators or creator-owned projects published by larger publishers".

The thing is, winning the award means winning an actual literal brick. Because the mascot is a brick-throwing mouse. So they have to make a bit where the trophy is a brick. Like. Look.

For a long time I thought it was just plain bricks they were handing out, but my friend who won a couple of bricks two years ago had theirs stamped (I saw the bricks in person at their house). So now I am obsessed with the idea of The God of Arepo winning an Ignatz trophy. It will have the honours stamped. On a freaking brick. That's the most Tumblr level meme trophy this comic/story could win (which is also a legit high honour industry award on its own btw don't get me wrong). But wilder than that, the brick allows me to do something. It allows me to smash that break into 5 pieces and ship one of each to the authors plus myself. Writing Prompts, sadoeuphemist, ciiriianan, stu-pot and me will get a piece of clay in recognition for our work with the farmer who built a temple out of stone. The full circle moment.

Imagine the value of this win to the lore of this Tumblr sacred text/folklore. This brick will be smashed and given to the creators, but as a collective folklore, it's also dedicated to all of us on this hellsite too. AWARD WINNING. If The God of Arepo wins I will document the entire process of smashing that brick here.

But we have to make this happen. We need to gather our collective energy and make this campaign work. Please help make The God of Arepo an award-winning story and vote for it in the Outstanding Online Comic category (link). You will need to request a ballot, then submit your vote. I recommend checking out the other nominated comics too. The Ignatz really shortlists good stuff. The voting closes September 8 2023 . LET'S GET THE GOD OF AREPO A BRICK FOR HIS TEMPLE!! LET'S GO!!!! REBLOGS HELP TOO!!