#ess writes

[lovesickhog]

What if I was fairy sized and a transmasc kidnapped me and kept me as their little pet. They'd keep me secret. Stowed away in a small improvised terrarium, hidden in their room.

It would be innocent at first. Just trying to figure things out about me. Seeing if I can talk (I can't), seeing it I understand their speech (maybe the simplest tings), seeing if I like being pet (oh, I do.)... Interesting... Suddenly they're exploring my body. Touching me from the hair on my head down to my little feet. And with the trailing of their fingertips along my skin I shudder and grimace. It's clear that the sensation is a bit overwhelming for me. But I'm not getting aggressive. So I probably am enjoying it somewhat.

For a while the petting is somewhat decent. Just stroking me like a captured bird, because I'm soft and cute. And I am theirs.

But eventually, after holding me in a tight grip for a while one day, they realize they can feel something sticky on the inside of their hand. It's coming from my body. They take a steady grip of my wing and unclasp their fist. I collapse onto their open hand, my face flushed red and panting. I instinctively spread my legs and they notice for the first time, my wet engorged cunt, leaking fairy slick out on their palm. It seems they had worked me up thouroughly just by petting me.

At that point it's too late to back down. They bring me to their bed and unzip their pants with one hand while pulling the hand with me in it up to their face. They take a greedy huff of me and moan. I blush even harder, I'm not trying to cover up but they can tell I'm embarrassed. They lower me down to their crotch and with one hand, deftly takes off their trousers and underwear in one motion.

I'm close enough to feel the heat that's built up in their tdick. It's warm and sweaty and I can smell it clearly from this distance. I can sense they are having a moment of doubt. They're hesitating. Is this okay to do? Can they use a fairy they found to get off or is that Messed Up? I realize now that they're not actually holding me. I'm unrestrained in the palm of their hand and when I look at their face I ser they've clenched their eyes and face shut in a moment of focus. My eyes dart to the window, then back to my captor. I could escape easily. I look at the window again before my eyes... Slowly... Drag themselves back... To their swollen cock.

I hear them let out an exasperated moan before their entire body shudders. I had jumped out of their palm and onto their dick face first. I rub my entire face on it and it's clearly sensitive for them. They grab me and pull me off in a panic. No matter, I got what I wanted. That feeling of hesitation within them is clearly gone now. Their cock got a taste for fairy and now it needs more.

They sit down with their back against the wall. Gripping me with one hand around my torso and neck. Using their other hand they spread my legs, I keep them spread for my owner, like an proper action figurine. They lower me down onto their dick and effortlessly sink into my wet fairy cunt. There's some embarrassing sloppy noises that make me blush and squirm, trying desperately to hide my face in my hands. Instead left with the only choice being craning my neck and hiding my face in the bend of their finger. I bite down gently on their skin to give myself anything else to focus on but the sound of my hole being shallowly dug out by this giant pervert.

[deadlyessencewhispers]

Moon: Writing Prompt 6-28-23

Day 3ish X

Funnily enough, the only thing I remember from that fateful day - or night in this case, is the moon. It must have been full because despite being black, it acted as my guiding light. In fact, I don’t remember anything else. But that memory has been burned deep into my mind, it returns religiously – almost like those pesky debt collectors from back home - a continual reminder of my predicament.

You see, I am not home. I woke up in this cave. And I am not… even remotely home as far as I have been able to gather. And I’m not sure what that even means. The grass here is different. The sky. The moon. The trees. Nothing is at it should be. Well, the water is drinkable, and some of the plants have been edible.

Maybe I died. Maybe this is heav. Maybe this is hell. Purgatory? It’s something. Or, maybe I’ve just gone mad, and this is all in my mind - but I refuse to believe that. This is real. My pain is real. All of my cuts, scrapes and bruises from that day night are real.

So, my conclusion is that I have somehow, gone somewhere other than Earth. Maybe aliens brought me here, or God. I don’t know. But I plan to find some other intelligent creature to interact with. Hopefully there are others like me – humans. Hopefully whatever they are, they speak my language…

I don’t know how long I slept, through the entire day it seems. In the morning I will set out to find out what I can about this place – I cannot stay here in this cave. I might go mad.

- Asiné

[ladyhawke]

– Silvio Almeida

[Text ID: “What defines Latin America is precisely the political struggle of the people who identify themselves as Latin Americans in order to resist all the historical ills to which they were subjected.”]

[breathlessboy]

Shameless.

Synopsis: This time, Lance has him in his own room; his own bed. His flawlessly smooth and strong hands have him pinned to the mattress, and Keith can't remember how long it's been since they'd stumbled in here blind and drunk on anticipation.

He's loud. He's unrestrained. Keith is utterly shameless, and he just wants Lance to ruin him for anyone else.

A mere peak into the thought process of one Keith Kogane as he gets his brains fucked out by his right hand man.

Read it on Ao3 here.

[kvothbloodless]

A incredibly weird problem I see in a good portion of fantasy stories these days is something Ive been calling "Inferna delenda est", and which my less pretentious friends (all of them) call "the hell problem". Its sort of something that, because its a genre convention, is almost always ignored, but once you see it, it cant be unseen.

I admittedly only started seeing this after reading UNSONG, which is literally About this problem. But now that its been pointed out, I cant unsee it elsewhere, and any media which runs into it but doesnt address it becomes almost entirely ruined for me.

The issue of Inferna delenda est is present in any setting which 1. Has real, proven afterlifes where most people literally go when they die and 2. Has one of those afterlifes be at all comparable to Hell, i.e. any place where a significant number of sapient creatures are tortured for all eternity.

If those two criteria are met, almost any plot becomes pointless and trivial. What does it matter that a hero saves a city from destruction when beneath their feet millions of people are burning, and many of those saved will join them? Who cares whether the ruler of a country is corrupt or not? The evil that would be stopped by replacing them with even a perfectly competent and benevolent ruler is staggeringly inconsequential compared to that of an eternity of torment.

Like, im not being vague or making an analogy here. Im just saying that its incredibly difficult to care about a plot to stop a war or kill an evil wizard when the story offhandedly mentions the fact that millions of people are 100% being tortured for eternity in a real place and no one is doing anything about it.

And even further, it makes it Really hard to view the heroes as...actual heroes. The degree of callousness required to keep the existance of hell in the background (from an in-universe perspective) is just ridiculous. Like, if youve got your high fantasy hero saving an entire continent from an evil demigod or whatever, the fact that theyre Not constantly thinking about hell is just... if you have that kinda power, and you literally know for a fact that Hell is a place, then you should be fucked up about it!

Like I can understand that growing up in that setting youd be resigned to it, not much a random soldier or whatever can do about it. But once they become super powerful? And they never even Mention Hell? That much callousness automatically moves you down a few notches from hero.

Obviously in a lot of settings hell just sorta Exists, and soul sorting is vague, but even then like. Break into Hell! Rescue people or at least relieve their pain! Its just so insane that the worst thing literally imaginable as a physical place (maximum pain that lasts literally forever with no hope of relief) is a staple of lots of fantasy settings and so many authors just do not in any way address that.

And like I said, its not that theyre writing Poorly because of this. Its a genre staple, and if you dont give it too much thought it doesnt seem to be an issue, especially given [gestures vaguely in the direction of christianity and its popularization of the concept of hell]. But god now that its been pointed out it drives me Nuts.

Anyways idk where i was going with this. Read unsong, i guess?

[anxiouscr0w]

Emotional Support Staff Chapter 11 - BAD BUNNY!

Summary:

You spend some time with Roxy, who explains her previous close friendship with the Daycare Attendant. Moon is acting strange and you can’t get all your tasks done, Moon can’t tell if he wants you gone or is desperate for you to stay. You finally meet the DJ, who happily speaks with you for the rest of the night.

cw: mild blood, slightly virused Moon

Author's note:

It's the 5th of May... you know what that means? It’s my birthday! Yippee!! I know I said I wouldn’t get another chapter out for a short while cause of College, but I decided to try and get another out. Don't you feel so special? The mermay stuff might not get out until the end of the month, so it’s probably gonna be a not-so-mermay-fic. <3

[cowboatbeeboat]

I'm making Ess's mom a doctor and the ship's one and only medic.

No I did not decide that just so I could make this joke who do you take me for

[starcrossedjedis]

Avery and Luca in "The Games we play" {a "Manchester College" story}

"Is it true?" - "Avery, please..." - "Is it true, Luca? Was I your job? Were we...?" - "I am so sorry."

Dirt poor, yet charming artist Luca, who claws his way through artschool on scholarships and charity, finds himself at the mercy of ruthless socialite Pippa, who intends to use him against sweet, innocent Avery - her rival in the race for a coveted internship.

Because where else would I set this story but the "Cruel Intentions" college campus? 🤗 just a little sth sth until I finish the gifset (can't seem to settle on a colouring ^^)

tagged: @bravelittleflower @mystic-scripture @sgtbuckyybarnes @thatmagickjuju @mabonetsamhain

@akabluekat @arrthurpendragon @asirensrage @astarionbae @auxiliarydetective @bibaybe @bisexualterror @cas-verse @curious-kittens-ocs @darknightfrombeyond @darkwolf76 @drbobbimorse @eddiemunscns @emilykaldwen @foxesandmagic @harleyquinnzelz @if-you-onlyknew @jamezvaldes @jewishbarbies @juliaswickcrs @katiekinswrites @kingsmakers @koiwrites @margoshansons @oneirataxia-girl @susiesamurai @stachedocs

[watobu]

VIOLENCE SOLVES NOTHING.

OR DOES IT?

AN ESSEMP WRITING.

1,201 WORDS.

DIVIDER.

TW/CW — RELIGION, DRUGGING MENTIONS, DESCRIPTIVE GORE, VIOLENCE, AND BODY HORROR.

Egg promised away violence years ago, having vowed never to do it again unless necessary. She never saw violence as a solution to anything, she decided to avoid meat, to go vegetarian. Egg had become fully disgusted by the idea of taking a life.

The urge to kill became so dormant that Egg forgot others did so. Upon meeting Wemmbu, she was reminded of how normalized slaughtering other living things was. She kept her disgust to herself, not bothering others with her beliefs. Nobody would listen to her nonsense about violence not solving anything.

But what if it did?

Let's set the scene, it's a cliche of all cliches. Here she stands, in a hallway of rubble and flame, staring at the body of her purple friend lying on the floor limp. There wasn't a single sign of life in him, having been drained away by none other than that smiling freak across from the two.

It always came down to this, Wemmbu dies, the mission fails entirely, and The Rebels retreat. Speaking of, Minute is already shouting to do so—but Egg doesn't move. Things are different this time. Wemmbu was choked to death in front of her by Zam in cold blood.

Wemmbu was killed in front of her this time, while she stood powerlessly. Zam chose to do it, he didn't have to. Wemmbu was on that drug he was routinely given to sit stable. Zam could've easily taken him away, but he chose to put a sword through his throat.

Zam chose to shed Wemmbu's blood—he laughed whilst doing so, Egg heard it through her screams. Zam enjoyed watching his eyes go dull, watching his body slump down against the cold floor—Zam enjoyed taking a life. All of this needless violence. It’s begun to catch up to Egg, it's begun to drive thoughts into her head, thoughts of simply joining in. What difference does it make? She's doing it for a cause. For innocent lives.

Egg didn't have any decent weapons, all she had was an axe and a bow in her wits. She doesn't fight. She performs defense not offense. But this time—this time it's different. Something about the look on Zam made her want to play offensively. Maybe it's the wider smile, or the laughter erupting from his throat over the supposed victory.

Zam tilts his head at Egg, walking towards her and Wemmbu. “Shouldn't you be leaving?” He starts, “it's routine, you know! Wemmbu will be fine. He'll respawn and things will go right back to normal! Go on, Egg!” The Priest says between giggles. “Scurry off, now, we'll do this again next month yeah?”

The joy lacing Zam's tone made Egg's eye twitch. Her hands begin to shake as she turns to her dead friend on the ground. “Is that it?” Egg asks, looking up at Zam with narrowed eyes. “Well, yeah. We do this every month or so do we not?” The Priest teases, gesturing around with his hands. “It's been the same for the laaaaast—ooohh I dunno.. several years! What? Do you think standing here longer will let you win?”

Zam doesn't even touch Egg, he simply monologues to her, as if she can't touch him. Zam knows about Egg's hatred for violence, he learned about it years ago in the first rebellion. Egg only ever fought back in self defense.

She clutches onto her shield tightly with a hand, the other reaching for her axe. Her vision slowly becomes rose-tinted, stance changing as Zam speaks on and on about winning. The more he speaks, the crazier it drives her. Egg turns to Wemmbu, then back to Zam. Her eyes, having already welled up with tears, let them dribble down, body shaking out of rage.

“Shut up.” Egg interrupts.

“What did you just say?” Zam asks, letting out a scoff.

“I said SHUT UP!” Egg shrieks. “HE WAS DEFENSELESS AND YOU STILL CHOKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN GODDAMN MIND.” She shouts, wings along her back flaring up and out, feathers puffing out like fur bristling on an angry animal. The halos on Egg's head shatter, her true form revealing itself through raw anger.

Zam laughs. He laughs in Egg's face at the shouting. “Ohhh Egg, he'll respawn! Jeez—dramatic much?! I do this all the time, what's so different now?” He tilts his head, “he's just a bug, Egg. You shouldn't be screaming your head off this hard over—” Zam is quickly cut off by an angered scream that echoes across the destroyed church.

Egg whips her axe out, going directly for Zam's shield to disable it. “I should KILL YOU!” She threatens, wings beginning to force themselves out of her back, multiplying in the hundreds. Just as Zam was about to fight back, Egg's face morphs into one singular blue eyeball, unused skin melting off whilst the rest shaped and molded itself into the form her body demanded to be in. The hundreds of eyes on the void black side of her face form together to create one big eye. Her body begins to shift itself into an amalgamation of wings and limbs.

The axe and shield are both casted aside, claw-like hands going inplace of said weapons. Egg's body grows into something larger than Zam, skin growing so thick it could deflect the Priests's weapons with ease. Anger overtakes any coherent thought in Egg's mind, completely erasing her drive for peace. The urge to kill in the back of her mind becoming prominent. The urge grows as her body molds itself into an eldritch horror, a mass of eyes, wings, and limbs.

Several hands take ahold of Zam's body, Egg waits for the Priest to call for backup, before ripping off one of his arms with ease. She then pulls Zam in half. His body spills along the floor, red liquid pouring from Egg's hands. Zam is killed right as his guts spill out of his top half, body going limp with a few twitches of the muscles. Items fall from between Egg's fingers, onto the burning floor.

Egg looks out amongst the crowd gathered at the rubble, before going back into a much more humane looking form, sinking to her knees. She looks around, face becoming a mass of eyes and void. “Give him to me,” she demands. The hall stays quiet, the sounds of fire crackling echoing in her ears. “Did you hear me?! I said GIVE HIM TO ME!” She once again demands, wings sprouting from her back, as if the angel were threatening to go right back to the morph of terror. “Give THEM to me. ALL OF THEM!” She hisses out, “and I'll leave.”

She doesn't wait for a gesture, instead walking herself towards the cellar of the church, reaching through broken bars of cells. In comes a figure behind her, then another, and another. It's her team, not the opposing side. Everyone else had fled. Zam's death chased everyone away, for now, seemingly.

Finally, the Rebels win. They have their prizes in their grasp, their family, they can go home. Maybe violence is the answer,ba shortlived one, but an answer nonetheless. This isn't the end. They'll be back. Zam doesn't take losses lightly.

[hrodvitnon]

ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG.

My first spicy SIGNALIS fic be upon ye!

[rindreamery]

let's all pray for me please (i have 2 other exams besides these but those are light work)

[deadlyessencewhispers]

Rays: Writing Prompt 6-26-23

You lay in bed, wrapped in silken blankets, barely awake. You shift and your foot liberates itself from the cocoon. Freedom feels like the icy snow banks of the Northern Isles but a quick yank brings you back to solace - like a crackling campfire in the night. Rays from sun greet you through the blinds and  illuminate your face, but you’re not ready for the light. Not yet. - What time is it? Surely, I couldn’t have slept too long.  It can’t be that late. Not yet.

You sit up, losing the comfort and warmth that enveloped you. It’s late, it’s definitely late. I didn’t mean to sleep so late! Then you hear it. The low hum of their breath beside you and you realize where you are, when you are, how you are – who you are. You can’t help the smile that paints itself across your face.  You slip back under the covers and press your body against theirs. The Warmth. For now, nothing matters.

[sampilled]

AU where Cas only gets Sam out of hell long after dean is already dead.

Cas is so lonely, he sees no point in continuing to try so he goes on a suicide mission to get sam from the cage, he doesn't expect to succeed but he does.

he rebuilds his body around his mutilated soul.

no dean. no bobby. no no one.

they are each others everything, cas puts everything into trying to heal sam, theres only so much he can do but he spends every minute taking care of him. his new purpose is to care for sam, this is all he has!! hes not gonna give him up or let anyone take him!!

[ciciciron]

The universe must hate you if you're stuck here with me

Please zoom in and view all the details it took forever 💞💞

Honestly surprised I finished this before my birthday, especially considering I did the last half of it with a headache. Anyways I offer you them, aka my oc/flying-type arceus and my Hoopa!Lear design 💞 This is the first time I hard committed to painting a piece and I think it looks good

[teecupangel]

I don't think that kind of hidden blade is a good idea, Ezio.

I feel like this is a Star Wars AU and the Jedi Council is gonna have a headache with the creation of the Hidden Saber (Hidden Lightsaber?) and Ezio is one of the Jedi Masters that’s totally game using this experimental weaponry.

Yusuf is definitely the Jedi Master who introduced this to Ezio.

And now it’s the Jedi Council’s problem because Ezio and Yusuf are both charismatic Master who can sweet talk any veteran Jedi to, at worst, try it and, at best, be more open to the idea. All the Padawans and younglings think Ezio is cool though so they’re definitely interested in trying it out.

[anxiouscr0w]

Emotional Support Staff Chapter 10 - Echoed Voices

Summary:

You seek comfort in a friend, she speaks about your robot coworker and is surprised to hear your experiences with them. Monty decides to accompany you through most of your shift as you avoid your feelings of fear of the Daycare Attendant. You see Sun, who's being a sassy bastard today, but don’t stick around for when the lights go out. You have to face Moon, then tell him he is required in Parts and Service…

CWs: Descriptions of fear, dissociation, panic, slightly virused Moon

A/N:

Welcome back! I’m super happy with this chapter and I had a lot of fun writing it! Bad news: I probably won’t be able to even start drafting Chapter 11 for another month because of assignments (that I haven’t even started)

But good news!: Over the last few months I’ve been writing my first drabble, that I will be posting at the same time as this. The first one is non-canon but follows a different outcome to the beginning of chapter 9. There’s more to be written in the future :) You can find it here -

Find Me in Ruins

I also have a mermay fic planned, but unfortunately, I probably won’t get it out next month.