#do y'all know how much backlog i have

[oldestenemy]

A Shadow comes to tear Land and Sky asunder.

The wizard does not like prophecy.

They have not liked it from the start, but being involved with more and more of them, even on the sidelines, has just deepened the distaste.

The Auroracle’s words continue to rattle around their skull as Polaris unfolds around them. Corruption and imprisonment running deeper than just Walruskburg. Through mines and camps and into the very depths of the world. Every time returning back to the witch’s house.

“You will accompany me to the Arcanum, wizard.”

The wizard is a little apprehensive of this, though Baba Yaga is—hypothetically—on their side, they get the feeling she isn’t telling them something. There’s something missing from her story. But then, considering Cyrus had been the one to direct them to her, of course she had her own secrets.

“I’ll be back soon,” They tell Mellori in the hopes that it will stay some of her frustration at being left behind. They don’t actually know if they’ll be back soon, but they will be back, they aren’t done here. “once we’re done here maybe I can show you the academy I was telling you about—”

“—wizard!” They give Mellori a last little smile, and then hurry to where Baba Yaga is waiting on them to return to Walrusk—New Penguinonia.

The Arcanum opens up around them as they step through the door—and they are struck by the realization that it is not a world as they had first assumed. It’s… some kind of—are they in the void between? Or just in the sky?

Their thoughts stutter to a halt when they turn back towards Baba Yaga and catch sight of an Aztecasaur standing by one of the many doors.

“That’s Komeka Roundhorns—they’re our potioneer—for goodness sake why do you look so distressed, we are in a hurry—”

The wizard swallows hard as Baba Yaga’s voice tunes in and out of their ears.

“Peace you old hag,” Komeka says with a slight smile, “I know of this one.”

That makes them feel even worse.

“I—”

“You don’t need to speak,” Komeka assures them, “there is no time at present—but come back to me another time, perhaps we can talk then.”

They want to speak.

They want to respond.

Want to scream.

But they are herded along deeper into what they are just landing on calling a ship by Baba Yaga. Past a librarian and straight towards an office decorated in Storm iconography. It seems the whole way through as though their travelling companion has been avoiding coming back here. Everyone is somewhat angry or bare minimum frustrated by the fact that she is only appearing now.

They tune in and out of the conversation until Ione Virga’s focus is solely on them.

Initiate.

Another title.

Another responsibility.

Another declaration of loyalty.

So here they are again.

Surrounded by people who think they are dangerous because of something they had no choice in.

And now they are wasting time even further.

Proving themself to people who will not listen to words.

But there is never any time for convincing. Push on.

Avalon is as bright and lively as ever, and it isn’t hard to spot the odd one out. Velma Von Venkman is draped in clothing the wizard would find more fitting in Marleybone’s moonlit streets than in the sunshine of Caliburn.

Still, she is less apprehensive than Ione, and that is welcome.

At least at the start.

“Have you ever heard of a sorceress named Morganthe?”

The wizard just stares at Venkman, as though she is joking. There is no trace of humor in the words or her expression. It’s an honest question, but not one they can even begin to fathom being asked. Heard of. Heard of?

But then, there is something…nice. They suppose.

About not being known.

So they do not answer.

They follow her through to the hideout in Caer Lyon. Cut their way through the runoffs from Khrysalis—who do recognize them—they are familiar with the spark of instinctual fear they can see in Ofiera’s eyes. Their appearance and spellwork traveled quickly among the ranks of the Umbra Legion towards the end. It’s not a surprise.

“Why ask us when the one who released Grandfather Spider from his prison stands at your side?”

Wayward Spider and his kin.

Child marked by the Raven and the Spider.

When Venkman drags them outside they know there is no avoiding it.

“You are the wizard who defeated the Shadow Queen?!”

They wince, “Killed,” they correct “yes, I killed Morganthe, I led the war on Khrysalis, I—”

“—Color me impressed,” Velma says, planting a hand on her hip “and here I thought I would be the dark and mysterious one coming from Darkmoor.”

What?

Who are these people?

“You’re from Darkmoor?”

“Mmm, yes and we had some terrifying bedtime stories about Grandfather Spider. I used to think all the stories about him and Raven were myths—but well, you’d know all about Myth being more real than anyone ever assumes wouldn’t you.”

That, out of everything, they can agree with.

~*~

If it’s true you defeated Morganthe.

If it’s true.

They are doing their best not to let the words of the Storm Scholar—and in fact everyone they have met here—turn them into a mess. But it is slowing them down if nothing else. They are fighting not to shake as they return to Baba Yaga.

But when she offers the same surprise as everyone else, it finally breaks.

“What am I supposed to say!” They demand, almost immediately cut over.

“Don’t bother answering—”

“—No, no, I am the one doing all of the heavy lifting here, I’m done until you let me speak.” The wizard says, “Am I supposed to walk around announcing every second that I ended the war on Khrysalis? That I let out Old Cob? That I’m part of the Council of Light?” They resist the urge to roll their eyes, “What good would it do anyone? I’m here. I’m helping. Just let me.”

It’s a relief to let some of it out. The pressure always building in their chest seems to ebb a little. They feel it as some warmth comes back to their fingers and are reminded that—especially around these people—they will need to keep a better handle on their emotions. No need to concern them with Shadow leaping out.

Baba Yaga huffs, staring down at them with a look that might be irritation but might—if they squint—also be pride? “You really are one of Cyrus’s students aren’t you, he always did end up with the most troublesome and stubborn of any bunch.”

Yes they are.

Stubborn and always ten steps away from trouble.

“There’s no time for all of this—we need to find out which one of Spider’s children is interfering in Polaris. And I’m stuck here now that everyone knows I’m back, so the footwork will have to be left to you—if you’re up to the task.”

Always.

Send them running.

Prophecy at their heels.

Read the rest of the series here <3

[threadmonster]

I haven't watched the live action but something about it existing and how people are responding to it has me not only wanting to watch it but to start One Piece altogether. I. Am. Miffed.

[papurgaatika]

Scarcely Can Speak For My Thinking, What You’d Do To Me Tonight

Pairing: VA! Joel Miller x f! reader 

Minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. I know what yall are thinking: papaya didn't you post a fic literally less than two weeks ago? And to that I would say yes, yes I did. However, I have been working on this one for a while and somehow managed to finish it on the plane! Thank you as always to my lovely beta readers @carlynkurin and @joelsdagger The title is a Hozier lyric (are yall really surprised?) This is officially dedicated to my beloved @joeloverture and despite my darling vetty's step off of tumblr, she truly deserves the world. also if you're mean to her i will find you. that is a threat

I hope y'all enjoy the read, and that the filth keeps you going in times of need. Peace and love on the planet Earth from me!!! Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags: Erotic voice actor Joel! AU, Young Joel, No outbreak AU, smut, condescension, degradation, f! masturbation, praise, squirting, smut, LOTS of dirty talk, oral (f receiving) friends to lovers, fingering, voice kink, Joel loves thighs, Joel Miller arm appreciation, the reader is a mess, no use of y/n, Joel can pick reader up but he’s HUGE so it makes sense, no description of reader, 18+ Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: you have been using audio erotica to get off for a month, and manage to accidentally let it play in Joel's car, leading to an awkward night in 

You let out an exhausted huff as the dim light of your phone reflected on your face. Your headphones connected, your vibrator was charged, but in some godforsaken twist of fate, there was not a single thing worth listening to on the newest audio erotica page you could find. Videos hadn’t been doing it for you, the ethical concerns were too high for you to be horny, and as much as you liked a good fanfic, you had gone through most of the ones you liked and needed something new.  You click on a post with semi intriguing tags, immediately rolling your eyes and exiting out of it when you hear the all too familiar vocal fry of men trying to sound hotter. News flash: you don't. 

You were moments away from calling it a night and opening your backlog of smutty ao3 fics when another post caught your eye. You let out a snort at the username save_a_horse and glance at the tags. Okay you were definitely interested now, a degrading instructional… you hit play with baited breath, prepping for the worst, but you were so mistaken. 

“Filthy little thing aint ya?” the voice rings in your ears, heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly quickly. “Must be so pathetic if you’re clicking on a mean stranger's voice to get ya’self off” his voice was like hot honey. Sickly sweet and keeping you waiting for his every word but with an edge that stung in the best way. You shuffle yourself back onto the pillows and throw your covers off, fully prepared to enjoy this rare gem. Your breathing picks up, heavy with want as the man in your ears calls you a desperate little slut. 

“Go on, get your toy wet slut” his voice croons out at you “know ya have one, too fuckin’ needy not to.'' Always eager to please, your lips find the base of your curved g-spot vibrator and let the soft plastic fill your mouth, drawing sounds that were almost too debauched for you to be sitting in bed alone. “Bet you love havin your mouth filled like that.. Lord, I'd love to have your pretty little lips around my cock” your eyes practically roll back at that, spit running down the base of your toy before he finally tells you to put it in.  

“Atta girl, such an eager thing” The toy sinks into your sopping cunt with ease as the voice envelops your mind, solely focusing on him. You listen with intense obedience as he tells you how deep, how quick, how much you were allowed. “Go on then, fuck yourself on it. We both know you want to” 

You let out a soft cry as you slip the toy in and out, the curve just hitting the spot that makes your back arch. Your breathing hitches as you press down on the button to turn the vibrations on. “Creamin’ all over yourself I bet,” it was like he could see you. Like he was able to see your arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, how the damp sheets clung to your thighs as they shook and twitched with pleasure. 

“Bet you’re so damn close.. Go on then slut, cum while listenin’ to me'' he taunts slightly as your orgasm washes over you in waves. “Gonna ruin ya,” his words are assertive, less of a promise and almost a threat “ain’t gonna cum unless it's to my voice anymore. Good fuckin’ girl”  You take a few steadying breaths as the audio clicks off, and you blink up at your ceiling unsure of how to go on from there. You glance down at your phone which has made its way to the opposite side of your bed and move to grab it.

You hit play on another audio. 

As the weeks go on, you and the mysterious cowboy in your ears have an immensely good time together. You practically spend every night listening to every one of his audios, leaving silly comments on the ones that make you cum particularly hard. It might have been an issue, how often you found yourself waiting for him to upload, how quickly you would pause your tasks to listen to new updates, but you were having fun and it wasn’t like you were hurting anyone in the process. 

You had just finished an audio before the blaring noise of a horn outside your door rattled you. The clock on your phone taunts you as do the several missed calls and texts from your best friend. “Fuck. fuck okay” you grumble, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before tossing a pair of comfy shorts on and grabbing your bag, and heading outside “have you never heard of a virtue called patience miller?” you quip as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck 

“Had it for the first five minutes, but about 10 minutes after that, I was damn ready to break your door down myself” he scoffs “what took you so damn long?” he rolls his eyes as you fiddle with the bluetooth in his car, not wanting to be stuck with what you call ‘old home music’ 

“I was just finishi-” your words are cut off when the sound of a moan plays over the speaker. Just your luck. You kept the grumpiest man alive waiting and then played porn in his car. Hooray for you. “Jesus fucking-” you squeak, fiddling with your phone and closing out of the app “Joel-” you start, cheeks burning and excuses already at the tip of your tongue, before he silently shakes his head and puts the car in reverse. 

The ride back to his house is awkward to say the least. “Joel listen I didn't mean for-” you mumble out meekly, but his sharp gaze on yours has you clamping your mouth closed immediately. You fiddle with your fingers, thinking about playing music, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The grip Joel has on the steering wheel is practically iron-clad, his knuckles almost white with the tension as he pulls into his driveway and puts the car in park. You walk into his house with a huff, your weekly game nights off to a bit of a rocky start, but you’ve had to deal with worse with him. Joel had given you moral support when your menstrual cup had gotten “stuck” during one of your first times using it, he could deal with knowing you listened to porn. 

You plop down onto his couch, stretching your legs out on the coffee table while he gets you a glass of iced tea. You take a sip of your drink and mentally prepare yourself for how bad he was going to tease you about this, but are met with shocking amounts of silence. For a man who is ruthless on game nights, the lack of trash talk and absolute avoidance was almost irritating you. Finally, after you beat him in uno for a third time in a row, you snap “What is your issue tonight miller?” you groan, placing a +2 card down “Listen I know that was awkward but we’re both adults I don't see what the big deal is'' 

Joel groans and places another +2, changing the color (much to your annoyance,) “just drop it, nothin’s the issue”  You, petulant and stubborn as ever, did not drop it. You huff as you have to take like 5 cards from the deck before getting one that you can play, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit” you move to sit cross-legged on the couch “I never beat you in this game, something is wrong with you tonight,”  it was almost as if nobody had ever taught you not to poke a sleeping bear. Or maybe you figured that the bear was your best friend and probably wouldn't bite your head off… probably. 

“Just drop it peaches,” his words are terse, hands gripping his, now slowly diminishing, uno cards much tighter than he needed to. You groan again when you have to get another few cards. The irritation at his childish behavior, coupled with the stack of 20 cards in your hand makes you more of a menace than you probably should. 

“Don't be such a baby, Miller,” you poke his leg with your foot knowing full well he hates it, a yelp leaving your lips as he grabs your ankle and pulls you forward “Joel!” Your cards fly out of your hand 

“Told you to fuckin’ quit it peach.” His voice is a low timber, stirring something deep in your belly. “Never fuckin’ listen to me” 

You just snort at him when he releases your ankle, moving to pick up your cards, “you suck at uno today Joel” you hmph, rising to your feet “'m gonna get something else” you hear Joel protest and try to grab at your arm but you’re too determined and he’s far too comfy to get up quick enough.  You manage to make it to his spare room, swinging the door open, imagining you’d see a shelf with his board games only to stop dead in your tracks, “what the fuck-”

What you had always assumed was just his spare junk room or random linen closet, was what looked like an at home recording studio. A desk with a PC and speakers, full microphone set up, and what you could only assume was something to help with soundproofing  “What the fuck Miller?” Your voice is slightly full of awe, “are you recording shitty male superiority podcasts now?” you tease, a sly grin on your face. 

Despite how pleased you are with that crack at him, he looks absolutely unamused. He practically clomps over at you, big finger poking your ribs ``you know damn well I ain't doin’ that shit.” He rolls his eyes at your teasing. The idea of Joel Miller getting on the internet to talk about women in a way that wasn't him sitting at his desk going ‘they’re the best damn thing’ was laughable. He was a perfect gentleman to everyone, except maybe to you, but frankly you deserved it for all the shit you gave him. 

You squeak when his finger prods at your skin “okay, okay well what creepy shit are you doing in here then?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, sauntering to his PC set up. The computer and speakers were calling out to you like a siren, and you did not have the common sense to plug your ears. 

Joel knew you. He could read you like a fucking book with how close the two of you were. He used to say that the one braincell you had spent fifty percent of its time inside his mind with how predictable you were to him. “Peach do not fuckin’ dare-” his voice is low, warning you. 

If you had better self preservation skills you would have probably heard the alarm bells ringing in your head telling you that he was serious, or paid better attention to the way his sweats were a little more tight. But you unfortunately were a complete menace, so neither of those items really registered to you. You clap your hands in an evil little giggle when you move the mouse “still no password? Shit you make my life so fucking easy-” you grin as you see the different clips of audio layered together in whatever program he uses 

Joel has somehow silently appeared behind you, his hand pulling you away from the computer. “Quit it peach, I’m not fuckin’ around,” he grits out, the hold on your wrist almost impossibly tight. He means business this time, and despite how much of a hellion you can be to him, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You scrunch your nose at him trying to pull your wrist out of his grip “okay jesus chri-” you yank your hand away from his, elbow bumping into the keyboard and are cut off with the sound of a gravely moan coming out of the speaker. Both you and Joel look like deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes flick between Joel, whose face has gone impressively red, and the screen of his computer.  “I- joel this is-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say in this situation. 

“Not a fuckin’ peep.” he practically growls at you. Your mouth clamps shut as he leans over you and presses pause on the audio. Your mouth is drier than it had ever been. That was a clip of your best friend, the one who was looming over you at this very moment, moaning into a microphone. You were certain that if you had listened any closer you would have been able to hear the sounds of his hand stroking his cock. The slight creak of his chair, the wet noise of the lube, or was he a spit guy? He however, was not interested in sharing any more of the audio with you, and you would deny it if anyone asked, you were a little disappointed. 

You need to say something, you had to, and despite your better judgment telling you not to, you do. “I mean you sound nice-” You sound nice?? You were so fucking ridiculous, even you knew that wasn’t the thing to say. Joel’s eyes darken at your words, and for a moment you fear he’s going to kick you out, to get truly pissed off at you for the first time since you finished his Dr. Pepper stash.  “I didn't mean-” you try to backtrack “I just meant- it... You sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least-'' you were actively digging the hole that you were in deeper, rambling and stuttering, all while Joel just stared at you silently, his eyes burning into you

You swallow hard, his eyes still not leaving yours “listen I can go I'm sorry I shouldn't have-” you go to make a beeline out of the room but a firm hand pulling you back into the chair stops you. You fall back with an oof and look up at Joel, who by all accounts looked pissed but there was something else. His pupils were blown and his eyes trace every single one of your movements. The bear had managed to lock in the own cage you had set out for him. 

“Didn't tell you to leave.” he practically grunts at you. Ladies and gentlemen, your best friend, always the most well spoken person in the room. You move to protest again, but the look he gives you stops the words before they even form on your tongue.  you bite your lip and fiddle with your fingers unsure what to do “think I sound nice peaches?” his voice cuts through the anxious rambling in your brain and you're almost certain you've heard him wrong 

“Huh?” you look back up at him through your lashes. He was leaning against the wall where his microphone was set up. His sweats were riding low on his hips and his hoodie covered the toned muscles of his arms, that if anyone asked you had never stared at. The tanned skin you never dared to fantasize about in your bed. The hair that covered his arms, the veins that often made more appearances when you asked forced him to do manual labor that you refused to do yourself. 

“Asked if you think I sound nice, Peaches?” he hums, raising a questioning brow at you. your mouth opens and closes ridiculously a few times before you simply just nod at him  “that's good..” he muses as he comes back up to you “do you think about me?” he prods, a patronizing pout on his lips as you gape up at him. “when you're listening to those dirty little audios and lettin’ your fingers touch that needy cunt?”  you can't help but squeak at his words. the way he said them, the way he spoke was just so… familiar  “come on, pretty peach, tell daddy what you think about when you're fingering that slutty little pussy” he practically grins at you and it fucking clicks. 

Daddy. Daddy. It was him. The stupid cowboy, the random man whose voice sent your tummy into knots, the one who had been getting you off for weeks now was your best friend.  “Joel-” you practically whimper at him. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and also very distinctly between your legs. “Listen i didn’t know it was you-” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that you would have told him to wipe off his face before you smack it off in any other scenario. 

“No?” he hums at you, his brow quirked up as he towers over you in that stupid recording chair “didn't know it was me when you were commenting all those pretty little reviews?” You whimper out a noise, somewhere between a no and a general sound of timidity, as his hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes  “Lemme see if I can remember what it was you said before I got you in the car today peach?” he takes a moment to obnoxiously tap his forehead mocking the way you recall things “what was it you said? ‘This made me late to see my friend, but it also made me ruin my sheets’? Was that it peaches?” 

You take a shaky breath, your skin burning under his intense gaze, chin still in his hands. You nod softly at his question, knowing that if you didn't, he would just push you until you did. His grin turns wolfish at your confirmation, and you feel him shift his legs between yours, pushing them apart “yeah peach?” he tuts at you “made me wait for almost 20 minutes outside your house. just so you could cum to my voice… ain’t real nice of you” You take a wobbly breath at his words and try to reply, unsure of what you would even say. An apology maybe, an explanation? But before you can even move to open your mouth he’s cutting you off again 

“Woulda just given you the real thing baby,” he tuts at you “all you had to do was ask.'' His voice is low and almost condescending. You shouldn’t let it turn you on, you should tell him to fuck off, but you feel yourself gush at his tone, your bottom lip getting caught between you teeth. He whistles at the look on your face, his cock practically straining against his sweats, “bet you’re just creamin’ in those slutty little shorts baby'' his words aren’t a question, he’s stating it like he can read you like a book because he knows he can. His legs shift to press your legs further apart until your knees are bumping into the arm rests, your eyes unwavering from his.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he leans down to you, his lips pressed up by one of your ears “Listen to me like this peaches?” he whispers into your ear, a warm breath making you shiver before he moves to the other side “like having me in your ears with your legs spread?” 

“Yes.. fuck yes yes I do-” your words are rushed and lustful as you feel his hands dip into the waistband of your panties. Your hips jolt up into his touch, panties absolutely drenched with your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lips parting with a silent cry of pleasure. 

“Knew she’d be droolin’ all over” he hums as he brings his slick covered finger up to his lips and tastes you with delectable pop when he pulls off. “Tastes like I fuckin’ imagined. Like a fuckin’ peach” he groans and for a moment you swear you could cum just like that. 

“Shit Joel please-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head and a shushing noise, as he steps away from you. Your legs are still spread against the chair and you practically whine when he moves away from you, flicking on his recording set up. “Joel what-” he shushes you again, giving you a look that leaves no room for argument. 

“Quiet,” he mumbles, fiddling with the mic and pulling the rolling chair closer to it. “Like listenin’ to me so much, thought i’d use you for better effects. You okay with that peaches?” he asks, looking down at you. Despite the teasing and the mockery, you knew he would stop if you told him you didn't want it. But the idea of him stopping, even for a moment was going to make you explode. You nod, maybe too eagerly for someone about to get fucked on microphone, and he grins. 

“God always knew you were fuckin’ desperate for it” he kneels between your legs, and you stifle a giggle when his knees pop.  “Quit it you menace” He swats at your thigh playful smirk on his lips, making you jump slightly. “Gotta stay real quiet for me, understand?” you watch with bated breath as he moves the mic so it rests delicately in the tension filled space between your spread thighs and his face. 

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown, cunt practically dripping for him. He lets out a soft hum of approval, lips pressing a soft kiss to your thighs “nothing fuckin’ softer than a pair of soft thighs” he muses, half to himself, half to you and the mic “could just live between them forever, die happy if a girl pretty as a peach would let me bury my face there.” You feel yourself clench around nothing, feeling maddeningly empty all of a sudden. You shift to try to gain some friction, the chair giving a slight creak at the change in position. Joel looks up and glares at you, your body going still immediately under the intensity of his eyes. 

He sticks his hand out behind him, pausing the microphone from recording. “You need to stay. still.” he grits out at you “don't need the whole internet hearing how much of a desperate little thing you are.” You nod at his words, hands gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles turn white. He flicks the mic back on and his lips find your thighs again. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. He slides his hands further up, popping the button open and you have to bite down on your fist not to moan when he drags the zipper down with his teeth. He shimmies you out of your shorts, leaving your bottom half clad in your embarrassingly wet panties. 

He lets out a growl at the sight of your cunt, clothed and practically dripping for him. “Look at her… practically creaming already and I ain’t even touched you yet” He lets his thumb press against the wet spot the slight pressure just barely teasing your sopping hole dragging a breathy sigh out of you. You look down at him, eyes hooded and lips parting, practically begging for him without uttering a damn word. 

He looks up at you as he slides your panties to the side, blowing a stream of cold air straight onto your clit, making you jump. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy…” he practically salivates at the sight of you “nothin’ fucking better than seein’ a drippy, needy, little cunt in front of me…” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right next to where you want him, where you need his lips 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. Somehow it felt filthier being able to see the look on his face, the absolute need he had to taste you. The grip he had on your thighs was bruisingly tight, not helping your arousal die down in the slightest. His mouth finally finds your slit, tongue licking a hot wet stripe at an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a guttural moan and practically salivates at the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet” he groans, tongue dipping back down to taste more of your slick. One of your hands leaves the armrest of the chair and moves to cover your mouth when his lips place three gentle kisses around your clit before relenting and wrapping his lips around the aching bud, with a quiet hum. 

You bite down on your hand to stifle the moans threatening to spill, desperate and eager to please him. Your thighs shake when he slips a finger into your dripping cunt and curls them to hit that spot. He lets out a chuckle, lips still sucking on your clit. The vibrations of his warm breath on your aching clit elicited a desperate wine from your mouth, despite how hard you were trying to be quiet for him “Ffffuck-” 

He raises a brow at you, not even pulling away from your skin, his baby eyes just gazing at you from between your legs as his fingers work at you. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth in an effort to stop your sounds, but your attempts seem futile as your climax starts to draw near. Joel slips a second finger inside of you with embarrassing ease, the sound of his fingers curling inside you, joined only by your soft little breaths and his lips on your clit. His fingers stretch you in ways your fingers never have, scissoring and sliding inside of you with practiced precision. “Atta fuckin’ girl..” he growls as your toes curl instinctively, heels digging into his shoulder blades as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, your thighs clamping around his head as he works you through it “squirtin’ all over daddy’s face huh like the needy thing you are.” 

He pulls your legs off from his legs and hits save on the audio, before glancing back at you with a smirk. “Ain’t posting that anywhere..” he whispers, the gentleness a shocking turn around from the filth he whispered to you earlier. Your breath is still coming out in shaky pants, looking up at him through hazy lids “keepin’ that all to myself” he hums, pressing a little kiss on your head. 

He scoops you up like you’re a ragdoll and practically clomps over to his bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. His fingers work deftly at the tie of his sweats, pushing them off. You squeak softly when you see the trail of hair going down his pelvis, the lack of boxers making heat rise to your chest. You work your top off, while he throws his hoodie across the room, a guttural groan leaving his mouth as he sees your breasts. “Fuckin’ perfect..'' His words aren’t necessarily for you, his thoughts just find themselves being voiced aloud. His calloused hands grope and knead at the softness of your tits before he presses wet kisses to each of your nipples. “Need to be inside ya” he practically begs, cock hard against his stomach leaking pre-cum. 

You could salivate at the sight, hell you truly might have a little bit. “Fuck me, Daddy, need you to fuck me Joel, please i can be good im ready, I'm on the pill-” your words were babbled, fast and rushed together, your intense desire for the man in front of you the only thing your brain could comprehend. Your legs part on the bed, your arousal dripping down your thighs calling to him like flowers call to a honeybee. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He fists his cock and slides it through your aching pussy, both of you letting out simultaneous cries of shit when your wetness coats his length. He slides into you with gentle thrusts, letting you adjust to his size slowly, before sinking in all the way with a soft whimper “take me so good…” his words are quiet and breathless, almost as if he was in awe of how your body made room for him. 

“Oh my god-” you cry out, your hands fisting in the dark sheets under your skin. “so fucking big joel..” you clench around him, body on fire with how good he felt inside you, with how perfect it was. It was like you were made to take him like this. His thrusts get faster and your legs curl around his waist, pulling him in as deep as you possibly could. The feeling of his hand pressing on your lower stomach has you arching your back into his touch. 

“Perfect fucking thing,” he grits huskier than usual, with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “Feel me peaches?” he thrusts into you again and presses on your tummy “right fuckin’ there.. Right where I god damn belong…” his words were lust filled and hazy, his own need and orgasm clouding all judgment. Your hips roll against his, the coarse hair brushing up against you, and your head lolls back into the mattress as his thrusts get sloppier. 

“Inside, Joel fuck-” you whimper at him, eyes wide and pleading as your second orgasm builds in the pits of your belly “please cum inside me, wanna feel you please..” for a moment he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your pretty little moans and begging are like a dream come true for him. He just nodded and shifted so he was practically cradling your body under his, cock buried so deep inside you that you knew you’d be feeling it for days afterward. 

He grinds his hips lazily against yours while his thrusts are shallow and pointed. Your legs shake while you meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as you both fall apart practically molded together. “Jesus christ-” his breathing is ragged and hoarse “takin’ me so damn good, gonna fuckin’ fill you up” he gives a few more thrusts before he pulls out of your quivering pussy, your own orgasm sending stars into your eyes. 

You both stay like that for a moment, Joel's forehead resting softly on your shoulder as his cum spills out onto his bed. You shift softly to pull him next to you and curl into his touch, giving him a cheeky smile as you tilt his face to meet your eyes. “You…” a breathless little laugh escapes your lips “how long did you know I was commenting on your posts?” you ask softly, brows raised at him. 

He snorts at the question and flicks your forehead gently, earning a playful pout to be thrown in his direction. “Bout damn near two weeks ago” he replies, classic shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Figured it was you when you came over lookin’ like you’d won the damn Powerball and some little fan called peaches_and_cream left a comment about cummin’ three times to one damn post” you let out a muffled groan and bury your head into his chest, mumbling something about him being an asshole before you both shift into a comfortable silence. 

He moves, patting your hip and telling you to go use the bathroom after a few minutes, preaching his favorite safe sex speech and you roll your eyes at him before you saunter over to his bathroom. “Oh and Joel-” you call out before you walk in, eyes meeting his as he waits for you to finish your sentence “send me that audio, would ya?” 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[gatorpond]

i hate to do this, but i need help again. my brother died in late may & i've been struggling since to eat, sleep, or take care of myself. i have a work backlog & was unable to do my physical therapy so my pain is slowing me even more. if anyone has the ability/feels like donating, my kofi is here. shares are super appreciated.

y'all have helped me so much & i can't thank you enough. i really can't. i don't know how to even put that into words. i don't have much of an irl support system and y'all have literally saved my life during this time. i wish i could function better so i could stop needing help. at this point, i've lost weight, have been too dissociated to function, and have been set back months of work on my physical therapy. my disabilities are back in full force. i struggle to remember to take my meds. i sat in my chair and didn't move for 6 straight hrs yesterday. i've also been spending much of my time helping my mom sort thru medical records/legal paperwork. i don't want to reveal too many details publicly, but his death was. traumatic & potential medical malpractice. i cannot overstate how hard this has all been. i'm not trying to twist ppl's emotions to send me help; i just want to be very clear what my situation is. i'm applying for food assistance again (was rejected last time) but for housing, utilities, insurance, medications, there's no assistance in my state. i have to have funds. all of that to say: i'm sorry to have to keep leaning on y'all so hard. i'm trying to get my feet under me, i swear. but i still can't seem to manage it. this shattered my world. i hate that i need to worry abt finances at all right now. thank y'all for any help. and for those who have been so patient with me wrt comms & owed art: i cannot say thank you enough. y'all have been so understanding. i'm working on your pieces as much as possible, i promise. if you have questions, my dms are open. you can contact me thru email/telegram too.

[sordidmusings]

Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x amab!Reader

Art by ijessbest on Twitter (refusing new name still) I believe they also have a tumblr by the same name!

A/N: Sorry I took so long to post this and thank you for your patience! I had thought I put it up earlier but noticed that wasn't true while doing some organizing. The differences are pretty subtle but I hope they are meaningful for your immersion and help you feel seen! If there's something I can do better (I am cis fem so I'm sure there's much my experience has me missing about yours) please let me know! I'd like to help y'all get your escapism too 🤍

From the original a/n - "Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p"

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: masculine leaning amab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

afab!Version

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully.  You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to spoil yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana.  You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face.  You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied.  At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your aftershave. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation.  Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful laughter burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling chuckles, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your gorgeous eyes and handsome smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of amber in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and oud at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine. 

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You flicked his forehead in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted? 

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing  yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh. His eyes poured over your shirtless chest and the thin sleep pants moving around the shape of your legs. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you chuckled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at the skin on your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. The feeling of being rested on your bare chest sent his heart racing. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how it felt to be under your hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

[brucewaynehater101]

Quick question?

Could you confirm or deny if my really long ruler of worlds AU ask answering “how would Tim lead a war?” Got deleted by tumblr?

No biggie if you just didn’t want to post of if you have a backlog just thought it was pretty good and wanted to resend if it got destroyed

Hi!!! I do have that one! Tots don't mind letting ya know I have it and that I am thrilled to answer it (even though there's a few asks before ya I'm still trying to answer).

My depression has been an absolute asshole these past few weeks, so I haven't been posting as much or responding to as many asks :( Which sucks ass cause y'all have fantastic and fun ideas

Idk if y'all want personal details, but I despise my birthday with a passion (it's not for quite a bit [I'm a virgo, lmao], but gods do I hate my birthday). I'm hoping I can get back into the swing of things once it passes ^^

[bleed-more]

Hey!

I have no idea if you're accepting art requests or not considering the ask blog and stuff, and feel free to say no if you're too busy, but if you are accepting art requests could I trouble you for a 2006 era Breth? (Brian x Seth) Your old 2006 era art is flipping adorable, and I'd love to see more of it if you don't mind!

I was thinking something like Brian wanting to do something that's clearly a bad idea, like prank Alex or something, and Seth trying to talk him out of it. Either that or just Brian yelling about how much he loves his boyfriend and Seth just blushing bright red.

This is only if you want to, though. I get it if you're too busy. Just please answer this to let me know so I'm not waiting for something that won't come.

Hope you have a wonderful day/night/whatever .

Hiii!! Yes I'm taking requests but just so you know I'm still backlogged with drafts and old art by about 2 weeks out rn! Might honestly pick it up sooner than that tho because I have quite a few requests I'm really excited to do!

Just to be clear tho regardless of how long it takes I will ABSOLUTELY be drawing this because I LOVE BRIAN AND SETH SO MUCHHHH AND IM GOING TO MANIFEST THEM INTO EXISTENCE

This goes for any of y'all who have sent in a request, know that I did get it and I do plan on doing it once I'm through my backlog! <3

-Olea

[icypantherwrites]

It is finished.

Words I wasn't sure I was ever going to be able to write, but at 11:51 pm last night they became reality.

Bottled Ocean is finished.

I am really, really proud of myself for being able to come back to this story. I started writing it in all the way back in May 2020 so it has been almost four years from start to finish and it's been a really long, bumpy road. So much has happened over those four years and the story went from a vibrant, engaged audience when it first published to, if I'm lucky, one or two engaged readers and maybe five reading it total. It's been really hard to put forth the energy into writing such a monster of a story (it is officially over 250,000 words long) knowing that there's no one there really to read it and even now I'll be lucky to have one or two engaged readers for it.

But it is done. My legacy after writing over 400 fanfictions in the last 7 years is not an incomplete story. It's something I can look back on and be proud of that I wrote that and as anyone knows, 250,000 words is not a small undertaking.

I had promised myself that if I went back to writing this I would finish the story before it began publishing again on Patreon (which resumes today) and then life hit. I had Covid the last two weeks and felt really terrible and dizzy and unable to focus. I thought writing fight scenes was hard, bah, writing fight scenes while you're distracted by the word 'sword' because it says 's-word' and going off on a tangent of swear words you think pirates would say while still trying to write a fight scene is hard. I kept going.

I reached yesterday morning and realized that I still had at least four chapters to write and I wasn't sure how I was going to do it and even if my deadline was self-imposed I was going to fail it.

I didn't.

Outside of taking breaks to walk the dog (it reached 42 here in Chicagoland and for this time of the year that's practically tropical) and guzzling down over half of a 2-liter of Dr. Pepper and trying to drink water in there too, I did it. I sat down, wrote my ass off, and a little over 16,000 words of the most pinnacle parts of the story as it all comes together and concludes I did it. I am exhausted and I honestly didn't even recall most of the final chapter so I went back and read it this morning and not to toot my horn but damn I'm a good writer, and I am just so relieved and happy it is done.

I am done too. My writing journey comes to an end with this story (I'll still for sure be posting on Patreon for the rest of 2024 though with my insane backlog and of course Bottled Ocean and some works on AO3 too) and I'm hanging up my keyboard. It has been a long seven years full of the good and the bad, the bright spots and the dark, but I can look back at this chapter of my life and see that I wrote over 3.2 million words worth of stories to share and I feel...

I feel content. And relieved and honestly my wrists are aching from pressing against my laptop all night, but I am happy. Thank you to all who came on this writing journey with me, who have been with me since As Color Fades Away posted in 2017 or stumbled across my works this year. It has been a life-changing seven years of writing.

I'll still be around here posting updates and hopefully, maybe, trying to get a few of y'all to bite at Bottled Ocean and join me in reading my final fanfiction, but this author is finally, finally finished and it is the start of a new adventure.

Thanks everyone ♥

[moodywyrm]

hiii!! its 🧩!! first off, dont worry ab "taking too long" to answer the asks, answer them as you please!! and second. the blurb you wrote from my last ask was SO CUTE i ab had a heartattack.

anyways ... heres smth else for u to mayb write :

i think it would be so cute if abby came home from patrol or smth and the reader didn't hear her come in which ends up with abby scaring the absolute shit out of the reader. lol. which of course abby finds hilarious but also can't help but have a tinge of guilt. and i could totally see reader trying to get back at abby for weeks but fails every time because abby does not scare easily.

-🧩

ahhh this made me cry honey!! I feel so bad bc I have like a backlog of almost 50 asks n y'all send me so many good ones n so many are basketball abby x chubby reader n I want to write them all I just don't have time :(

and omg. ok. I imagine that living in the Fungal Apocalypse where ur chances of survival hinge on ur ability to be quiet has made everyone, but especially abby, pretty silent walkers? and a lot of the time she doesn't even realize she's doing it. it's honestly kinda funny bc she's so big n bulky but she can be very very quiet when she walks. like just imagine she gets back to the base from patrol, exhausted, and she knows ur still in the library bc you told her your shift wouldn't end until after her patrol </3

and she's just like. fuck it. I wanna see my girl. so she makes her way up to the library, eepy as all hell, excited to see you!! and u have ur back turned to the entrance to the library, ur pretty much the only one up at the front bc everyone else either went home or are in the back. so ur like ducked under the big counter, searching for some snacks u n the others stashed in there a while back. n when u pop back up abby is just. there. standing at the counter like 🧍. and you Yell bc what the fuck man???

and she jumps! bc she thought u knew she was there, not realizing she was walking all silent </3 so ur both staring at each other, bewildered, and ur like. "abby. baby. what the fuck." n she's like???? what did I do???

"baby, I didn't here you come in, you did it again :( gotta attach cat bells to u or something :(" this is absolutely not the first time it's happened. and she's so sad bc she scared you :( she didn't mean too :( but she did :(

literally spends the rest of the day (aka the next four hours before she passes out) trying to make it up to you, attaching herself to your side, helping you out around the library until you can get away. falls asleep with her arms around u, still saying sorry for scaring u baby it ain't that serious pls

u trying to get back at her? fails miserably. abby and her wicked sixth sense for knowing where u are, u never even get a chance to sneak up on her! and even then, ur not a soldier, u don't patrol, so ur not as adept at being silent when u walk. every single time she catches u trying to scare her she's like hi baby :] how r u :] and ur like!!! u bastard!!! let me scare u!!!

jokes on u, nothing about u could ever scare her, unless u like go insane on an infected or something </3 ur her sweet baby!!

[atinylittlepain]

Sunday Digest - The Fool's Update

It's me, I'm the fool.

Anyways, if you saw my post earlier about things changing around here, I've reached some conclusions about just what that change is going to look like.

I don't like not finishing things, it doesn't feel good (except Apothecary, don't ask me about Apothecary lmao) so I've decided that I am going to finish Hungry Hearts, and proceed with posting the rather hefty backlog of finished fics that I have in my docs. I don't know how long that is going to take, frankly, maybe two months. At that point, I'm going to re-evaluate what I'm doing on here, because in the meantime, I don't plan on doing any fic writing while school and internship and grad apps all swirl around me like a mild tornado.

Truly, it's the comments, messages, and reblogs that have swayed me to keep posting, so thank you to all of y'all supporting me and my work still.

So, spiel aside, here's what's going on around here

.........................................

Last Week

Part three of Hungry Hearts, Dancing in the Dark, was posted on Tuesday

June Part Eight was posted on Thursday

This Week

Part four of Hungry Hearts is coming on Tuesday

June Part Nine is coming on Thursday (only two more parts and an epilogue to go, sigh)

........................................

What I read and enjoyed last week

@northernbluess posted part five to the Art of Healing, and it was just everything. El takes so much care with this story, and it's such a treat to read their writing, I cannot recommend their work enough.

@tieronecrush posted the first part to her new Javi P series, Only Angel and it is already feeding my grad school dreams lol - this one's gonna be good, folks, get on it

Listen, I'm not much of a Din girlie these days, but @netherfeildren's new series, the Cassandra Complex, has reeled me right back into mr. tin can man

@hier--soir posted a heart-breaking ex-boyfriend!joel fic titled Tender is the Night [For a Broken Heart] that was a brilliantly painful character study, so good

also, not something I read, but special shout-out to @darkroastjoel who is going to be posting the next part of A Safe Haven very very soon. I'm so excited to continue reading this story!

......................................

thanks for hanging around here, i'm going to make a commitment to be better at responding to comments and reblogs, i swear i read them all and they all make my heart do weird things.

take care out there

gin

[shiroselia]

Like, here's the thing. I'm the exception when it comes to writers period. I wasn't even going to publish QuintSum originally, because I Know how I get when I have to "perform" or "meet a quota" or whatever the fuck. (It's not fun, I end up being stressed shitless about it. There's a reason I made sure to have a ridiculous backlog and that I don't prioritise publishing Despite having 40 chapters in the backburner.) The reason I published it was because Zelda and I thought it'd be super funny for me to be anonymous because Zelda was anonymous when they started publishing. (We all know how horrendous That went but point being, I published it for a Bit)

But here's the thing, it's really fucking noticeable, as someone who doesn't really give that much of a shit about people reading their fics, just how Horrendous it is for the people who share it for the purpose of sharing.

ESPECIALLY because SOME FUCKING HOW my engagement is still really fucking high. Even though I have the most unconventional writing style alive and my fic is Ridiculously long. Which is really weird to me but it proves even more how the SSO fic climate is just really weird.

I think there's a reason why the only consistent SSO Fanfics out there are x readers (the only thing that gets any reasonable engagement), and longfics (mostly written by us insane mfers who should not be counted due to being commitment georg). Because they're the only people who probably feel motivated to do it at all. Like, y'all understand there's a catch 22 here, right? And I know that a lot of SSO players don't give a shit about the story, but that's just frankly a skill issue.

If nothing else, if you don't give a shit about the canon story, learn to enjoy it through another person's leans. If you want something that cathers to what you want, either you write it yourself, or you make damn sure to show the current SSO fic writers some love so that they'll be motivated to continue because not all of us can go by just sheer ridiculous writer fuel alone.

[morningstarlucemon]

Housing Update - SAFE

@everyone YO, Y'ALL ARE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS BULLSHIT. FINALLY, i get to make the update: we're safe, MORE than safe. Thanks to your help, and a loan from a friend, we've found a functionally PERMINANT solution. I've outright purchased a trailer, with a constant lot rent of $400 and water and trash included. We are now HOMEOWNERS. We are in the process of moving as we speak. Now, as for why i've been silent for the last two to three weeks:  I mentioned we had moved once. We were able to get out of our previous apartment which we could not afford and were being evicted from. We moved into a house which was being rented out to us. However, we've since discovered that this person was illegally subletting it. Since we have been here, she has sexually harassed our roommate, broken into the house while we were asleep (which we have a recording of), left us without heat, refused to move her belongings (she is a hoarder), forced us into doing free labor under threat of eviction, opened wrong address mail, and many other unsavory things. We have now gotten in contact with the actual property owners, and are pursuing legal action against her. I don't know how much i can say about that due to it now becoming a legal issue, and the fact that we will be taking her to court. So i don't know if or when i will be able to update you all on that situation. But if i can, i will. And i wanted to let you all know why i've been silent. Once we are fully moved into our trailer, and i've had a couple days to recover from... whatever the hell this all has been, i should be able to PROPERLY return to work. I want to make a consistent streaming schedule, chew through my backlog, and get back to working on Edenfall in earnest. And now that we no longer have to worry about homelessness for the foreseeable future, and the lot rent itself is affordable even with only me working, i'm... honestly incredibly excited to be able to get back to doing the things i love, to working. Thank you all so much, truly. Without you all, we may be homeless or dead. We would've had to split up, possibly lose our animals, all our things... You guys are incredible. Thank you so much. I can't believe all this. Six years since i left my mother, six years since i hopped in a rented compact with everything i cared about and fled Florida and abuse to be with chosen family, six years since i chose to life free instead of comfortably, and now things are finally looking to get stable. Thank you. Thank you so much. You all made this possible, and i'll be forever grateful. We may need a bit of continued help until Ren and Alice get stable jobs, and until i'm able to get through my backlog. We also will need to But, for the foreseeable future, we are safe, and we should STAY safe now. And, we may even be able to save up for something else in the future. If anyone still wants to help until we're fully settled, here are our links: Our GoFundMe: https://gofund.me/4da28a83 Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/shinigamiofexcellence/goal?g=33 PayPal: https://paypal.me/excellentshinigami?country.x=US&locale.x=en_US Amazon List: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/2CE66WB1CWVZ9?ref_=wl_share I can't wait to see what the future brings.

Posted using PostyBirb

[mdzsartreblogs]

Look, it's 4 am here and I probably shouldn't post this at all but I've been thinking about it a lot for months and something that happened yesterday really drove it home so fuck it.

You guys realize I'm a real fucking person, right? My name is unforth, I run 8 art blogs because I fucking love danmei and I fucking love art. I'm not a bot. There is no algorithm. I do all the finding art, all the tagging, all the queueing, all the organization, by hand. Across my blogs I usually spend about 2 hours a day everyday on this, and that's about enough to barely keep on top of it. If I want to catch up on my huge backlog, it takes longer.

I am a real human. I have a real job. I have a wife. I have two small children (6 and 4). In the past year my wife and I have both had surgery, my son has been sick 5 times already, my kids have had to miss week upon week of school due to illness, covid exposures, car issues, and more. Four members of my extended family have had covid. I could go on, but fuck it.

I do this because I love fandom, I love art, I love artists, and I love organizing things. It's good for my brain. And it means a lot to me to help artists grow their platforms, to help get more eyes on their work, their merch, their commissions, their shops. But I also work my ass off. I own a small business I started 2 years ago that is growing, and doing okay, but has still not done well enough for me to take a single paycheck in that time (the owner always gets paid last. Everyone else gets repaid first).

This blog has something like 1800 followers.

Yesterday I reblogged a thing for my own latest project and just said, "signal boosts appreciated" and I got 1 reblog. From over *eighteen hundred of you*.

My name is unforth. I just adopted two guinea pigs. I think my son is sick again. I had to beg my dad for money to pay our mortgage this month. I've spent hundreds of hours for over two years running this blog and it feels like y'all care *so fucking little* that I might as well be invisible, a bot, a machine, a memory.

I am a real person.

And I'm about this close to saying "fuck it" and walking away from this project because being nothing feels like *shit.*

I don't need or want thanks, but yall should CARE. Not just about me, either. I've seen how few notes artists get on calls for commissions, on their shops, on their personal projects. We're all real people! And no you don't "owe us" but ffs common courtesy suggests if you like what we do you'd help all of us get more eyes on our stuff. No ones saying "give money" but among your followers, or among their followers, there might be someone who Wants The Thing but if the post doesn't spread no one will even know The Thing fucking exists. Folks say they want more indy art, indy stories, queer creators, on and on, but act like even giving a project signal boost is asking too much. I'm so exhausted watching people I care about beg for scraps. I'm so exhausted begging for scraps myself. It should be a no-brainer - if you like what someone creates HIT THE FUCKING REBLOG BUTTON.

And yet.

I'm so tired, yall.

It's now almost 5 am. I shouldn't post this. I'm going to, though. And if I do quit, when I do quit, don't say I didn't warn you.

[salt-volk]

"customs being the main factor in the uber fucked economy"

sorry but i don't even think that's the problem. even w no customs the economy would be major fucked. you gotta remember half these custom owners were already rich by trading from fr or other shit in the first place. before customs even released there was inequality bc rich players could come in from other games and instantly be stupid rich on dv. wealth transfers over. then of course it snowballs and woo hoo they can buy customs w that. plus the folks who fart out like 300 rlc a month to buy monthly chests then resell for potatoes. and they were always gonna do that, customs or not.

i agree there are problems w how customs were handled, it does compound the existing bullshittery, but y'all are way to narrow about it sometimes. they are not the sole cause of every economic issue. on any game w a market rich ppl are gonna exist and push boundaries and get greedy. as long as offsite trading and rlc items exist then ppl are gonna take advantage of that. 

i know they can't get rid of rlc options bc it funds the game dev. so leave that, whatever. but in my unpopular opinion i for real think offsite trading should've been banned from the start. the very first thing that set off inequality is letting folks transfer wealth from other places that had nothing to do w dv. you get an instant upper class like a few weeks into dv launch when everyone should've started on equal footing. but that's irrelevant now lmao.

also kinda funny to bring up neopets when they've steady got some of the same exact criticism. neopets is literally the original "petsite capitalism simulator" lol. yea yea they've been trying to stabilize more recently but still. there's just as much problem w rich fucks there as there is on dv. the difference is just it's less noticeable since neopets has so many other features to focus on, and a 20+ yr backlog of thousands of items at all levels of rarity/cost. while dv's inequality is at the forefrtont bc the place is so fucking barren that all ppl can really do on there rn is buy and sell shit. and then the shit you buy and sell is either completely worthless common trash items, or impossibly unattainably expensive w zero in between. there is no economic mobility on dv.

but neopets literally works in the same way. dv just *feels* worse bc it's not developed enough to have shiny bits that hide the flaws. 

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑 || 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝙽𝚊𝙽𝚘

y'all i am so busy rn that i forgot to keep yous updated on my progress. moving forward i am going to try and be more present here, i am going to work my way through my backlog of tag games this weekend and queue up all the writing yous tagged me in.

this month is camp nano and it has kept my mighty busy. here is a list of things that has happened this month:

finished the prologue and chapters 1-10. i got them up for betas to read (if you'd like to beta for CMI, the form is still open to apply here)

got in contact with an artist and started the process of commissioning them for a cover (they just sent me the concept sketch and im!!!!!)

set an official publication date (announcement coming soon 👀👀👀)

submitted a query! (and realized that i don't want to trad pub so i'm self pubbing instead!)

started talking to formatting editors. i'm not sure if i'll be able to afford a good formatting review before publication, but i am in talks with someone who will let me use their Vellum!

started research on how to self pub/what company i want to go through (and actually set up a channel where i can dump my research once i compile it!)

cried a lot over this whole process. a lot.

so yeah! a lot has happened! a lot of good stuff, but a lot of stressful stuff as well! that's okay though, i'm just over the moon that i have an official pub date 🥰

i'm going to push through to the end of camp nano, but i am going to try and get back into weekly wupdates and just talking about writing a lot more. i was a little hesitant about joining camp nano given how bad regular nano went for me last year, but a new server i joined has really helped me find my love of writing again (thank you doom and clanky and so many others that i met through the bird app, i love you all)

anyways, enough rambling. let's get to what you guys are really here for: snippets! i am going to add a couple here (read, a snippet for each chapter i've missed updating here) to make up for my relative silence as of late:

Chapter 5:

There are two more encounters listed below it, but before Icarus can read them over he is distracted by a flash of gold entering the shop. His eyes shoot up, latching to the new patron standing in line with their back to him. It’s normal for bright colors and movement to grab his attention, but this time something feels different. He can’t put his thumb on it, but his brain is telling him that he should recognize them. It’s screaming that he should know who they are. But for the life of him, he cannot make out who it is. Whomst? The fuck? From this distance, he can’t see anything that might tell him who they are. Their plain black clothes could be the tell of an Elysian, but that isn’t a guarantee. The only truly identifiable trait is the halo of blond curls cascading over their shoulders. Why do I feel like I know them?

Chapter 6:

Ariadne whistles, a long and appreciative sound as she sees her husband’s work. The tattoo had been a beast to heal, but the hours of torturous pain and restless nights of endless itching had been well worth it. He spent days ogling the tattoo after it had first healed, the feathers look so real that you can almost feel them when running your hands over the inked skin. It is everything he wanted and then some. A feather-light touch runs down the etched skin. There is only one person who had ever touched him with that kind of reverence, his artist must have gotten up to inspect the tattoo. He is admiring his art—as he should—when he says, “Looks like you should have used more lotion.” He lets go of one edge of the hoodie to flip him the bird. It’s impossible to hide anything from his artist, of course, and he knew that his lackluster care would be noted. There are likely small splotches where the ink had fallen out due to his poor moisturizing regiment, but it’s not like he has much of a choice in that. Icarus drops the back of his hoodie with a sigh as he turns to face the artist again. YOU KNOW? HARD REACH AREA ALONE. His eyebrows raise as he speaks, his signs becoming large and boisterous. He then mimes trying to reach the middle of his back. That gets a chortle out of his artist and Ariadne. He hadn’t thought to consider how he would need to reach every part of his back before getting the tattoo, and the fact that he doesn’t have anyone in his life to help him makes it that much worse.

Chapter 7:

“Look,” Andromeda levels at him, voice growing in intensity as they say, “I understand that you don’t quite trust me yet. I mean, we just met yesterday. Hell, I don’t even know your name yet! But-” “Icarus.” He grabs the hoodie on the left and pulls it over his head. He takes a moment to pull his hair up and fasten it in a ponytail before turning and leaning back against the closet door. “My name is Icarus.” “Okay. Icarus. Y’know, that fits.” Their voice is calmer, quieter, as if that piece of information is enough to placate them. Icarus huffs. The name really does fit him, doesn’t it? Always jumping into things without thinking of the consequences, taking risks, and keeping shit close to his chest until he gets a bit too close to hubris and starts to fall apart. Falling in love with the sun personified. Burning, falling, crashing, drowning. Yeah, the name fits him. The only difference between him and the Icarus of myth is that he died at the end of his story. Icarus has no plans of dying. No, he plans of making it out the other end of his story and living to tell the tale.

Chapter 8:

“I thought the whole ‘Oh, Hestia has a pizza shop?’ ordeal would tell you that I have no idea where to go.” Huh, yeah, that should have clicked with him. It’s not like they could search up directions, they likely don’t have a phone just the same as him. Can’t risk having a way for someone to use GPS to locate him. It’s not like he has anyone to keep in contact with, anyways. “It’s just down the street. Go out the front of the building and head down West Saint Clair, it’s just past fourth street. I’d say can’t miss it but you very much could, there’s no sign out front. It’s the only building that looks like there’s someone living in it on that block, though.” “Got it. West Saint Clair, Fourth Street, not-abandoned building.” Andromeda repeats the directions to themself as they head towards the front door. “Anything else while I’m out?”

Chapter 9:

How could he forget? “Καιρὸς δε, Thanatos,” he mumbles as he stretches his arms out in front of him and rests his forehead on the blissfully cool counter. “And here I was thinking you weren’t gonna remember me.” Long gone is the shrill and timid voice of a sickly kid, replaced by one of the most soothing and deep tones Icarus had ever heard. “…Fair ‘nuff.” The vibrations of a glass hitting the counter top make Icarus look up. A glass of water, just water. He groans, that is not what he wants right now. He’s craving the sweet buzz of an energy drink, but that will require him to get up and walk around the island to grab one. Andromeda chuckles, not moving an inch as they watch Icarus suffer over the glass. “Quit pouting and drink.” He drops his head, turning his face away from the glass. “Oh come on, you big baby. Deja de hacer un berrinche y bebe.” They poke his cheek as he pouts. “Mira, food’s ready. Sit up and eat.”

Chapter 10:

“Why are we running?” they ask, gasping for air after the impromptu sprint. Icarus points to the bird as it hops along the ridge of the tent. He turns to watch their reaction, this is a big deal. Their eyes widen and their jaw drops open, they are just as shocked as he is. His smile has not left, though it dulls as their face drops to sadness and grim acceptance. What? “A crow.” Before he can say anything the look is gone. They beam a bright smile at him. “I can’t believe you found a bird! That’s definitely good luck for us.” But it’s not, their reaction sits wrong with him. He squints his eyes, watches them to see if that glimpse of despair will surface again. When it doesn’t, Icarus forces a smile on his face. If they don’t want to talk about it then he isn’t going to talk about it.

Okay, i think that's enough of a writing dump for now. here's the CMI Taglist:

@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness @lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address @writingpotato07-deactivated2023 @leighvalentin @inkspellangel @cljordan-imperium @outpost51 @alleahgrinnon @smol-feralgremlin

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[phoenixcoin]

{Okay, I have a few of you now, so I think I should clear the air of some things before going forward, and I hope everyone gets a chance to see this because I def don't want to disappoint anyone!}

{So, TLDR: I don't know a lot about FFVII and I don't have an FFVII verse for any of my muses, therefore if you need me to have any specific information going forward I'll have to take some spoilers. I won't be playing the newer games at all, most likely.}

{I've noticed I've gotten a few FFVII muses following me lately, and I am so happy that so many of you want to write with me! However, my knowledge on FFVII, especially as it exists now, is preeetty limited. I own but have not played the original game. I got it some time ago and tucked it away for when I finished my other FF games, then never got around to it. When the first FFVII Remake came out on PS4, we got that one, and we were very excited to play it. We also own and have seen Advent Children maybe a dozen times now. And the only game I've ever played to completion was Dirge of Cerberus.}

{But even with all of this, aalll of the information from any amount of media I had concerning FFVII. Gone. Completely. I don't remember the first thing about it, legitimately. Even the first part of the Remake. Gone. I don't know, y'all. I barely even remember FFXVI at this point. And while I do want to eventually get around to playing the original game and the other games that I already own again at some point, Sibling and I have been keeping it in the backlog for a time when we have time to play a Final Fantasy marathon like we did with the Kingdom Hearts and Zelda games, and that's going to take a while. I probably won't be freshening my knowledge of the games up for a good long while.}

{In addition, I won't be buying or playing any Final Fantasy or other Square Enix games going forward. Even if I do ever manage to get my hands on a PS5, I'm not doing it. I just don't feel comfortable with SE's current business practices, and I don't want to support them, even knowing how many folks probably still will. I just don't want to do it knowing now that they used Midjourney on one of their games. So I won't be learning anything about the revised version of FFVII, and I hear that there are some things that are quite different. If y'all need me to know about that stuff, you'll just have to spoil me about it, unfortunately. As much as I would like to play for myself and learn about it, I just don't know that it's safe to do so. I don't know if I could get away with buying the games on the aftermarket or if SE uses the initial launch updates in their analytics. If anyone knows something about that, feel free to let me know, but this is the state of things until I know that SE is going to let AI go and stop using it.}

{This was an awful lot just to say that my knowledge on FFVII is pretty limited, but I hope you guys are still okay with writing with me anyway. I'm going to do my best to give you guys a good experience even with my limited knowledge, I just wanted to give you a heads up on how fairly unlikely it is that I'll be able to keep up with FFVII lore for the meantime.}