#getting NO work done today

[rememberwren]

Okay, broke out the laptop to scream in your ear about some things I thought were really special about Skin Deep.

First of all, Simon's characterization. GODDAMN. Like you really know how to write him, how he goes more quiet and brisk the more nervous he is. So, so sexy, the way that Reader doesn't pick up on his vague cues that he likes her, but we alllll know what's happening. Nervous Ghost and don't-care Ghost are so similar, but you managed to convey the tiny details that made it thrilling to read.

The way you wrote him raising and lowering his mask was hot af. I could picture it every time, his little hidey place to help him feel less exposed to the hot girl looking at him with those eyes.

The descriptions of him being efficient and good at what he does -- SWOON. Big man with confident fingers make brain go BRRRRR

The subtle green flags throughout were just lovely. Watching her safely to her car. The way he abandons his usual silence to give her a bunch of info when she's nervous over text. The breaks, the modesty towels. Funny how it's so much more tempting to uncover yourself for someone who helps you stay covered. You just get it, Wren. You just get the nuance of attraction, and it shows.

When he insisted on that break, I KNEW. I LOVE guys jerking off in fics, you know why? Cause that shows they're not coercive. They fully understand that their sexual desire is their own job to manage, and it's just a thing they take care of because we're all adults here. HOT HOT HOT.

The attention to hygiene/contraception was super hot going hand-in-hand with grungy, cigarette loving Simon.

LOVED the part where Reader was trying to entice him to touch, and he wasn't understanding what she meant. That was so cute and funny.

Nipple play, ofc. Surprisingly rare in fics without lactation kink. Extra special to me.

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

This made me stop and paste it in a note for my review, because WOW. I've never read anything like that before. *I'm* not someone who can enjoy that particular position, so every time it comes up in a fic it takes me out of immersion and my thumb is braced to scroll to something farther down that I can relate to. But for some reason, him just being aware of different styles of anatomy and knowing to ask that, allowed me to stay in it.

Three fingers!!! Again, so RARE but (imo) so considerate when writing massive dudes. *I* don't write three fingers very often, because I feel like there's this stigma about it, that no one else shares my feelings that it's actually a helpful option ahead of sex with like a 6'4" dude. So seeing you write it was like... wow. I'm being a lil bitch about this, I should just write what I fucking want, look at Wren, she's doing it.

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

No need to beg?!? TEARS OF JOY -- this is just so much hotter than the ick I get when they do make Reader (me) beg. Just the zero-pressure interactions here were gorgeous.

The realism of him pushing past the limitations Reader thought she had of her own body was extra special.

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating)

*pounding my fists on the table* YES YES YES when you're with big dudes, you learn real quick which positions are the best (shallow!!)

His zero-pressure approach to her pleasure, specifically when she says she can't finish a second time and he's just like, “If you can’t, then don’t,” GGHGHDSIODFDOS HOTTTTTT "if it happens it happens, but I'm just going to keep touching you like this for as long as I feel like, okay?" PINNACLE SMUT for me. Elite of the elite.

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

I had to go back and read this like four times because I didn't grasp at first that he was joking. I was just like, "Oh, okay, already doing orgasm control, hmm okay." And then was so confused right after hahahahaha

Aww the asking her out right after fucking is so good and sweet, and a wonderful way to cement his character in everyone's minds.

Just WOW. I'll be coming back for rereads of this.

This ask was such a treasure, YOU are such a treasure. You need to be put inside a safe, a lockbox, behind a tripwire or SOMETHING. I could not find you more endearing right now. Thank you for seeing nuance in this when I felt like there wasn't any. You're an incredible writer and it shows even in the way you read.

[soft--dogs]

just doing my job

[dolotonglo]

so that popularity poll huh

[catmask]

it is insane how normal i am medicated like. you mean this was an option the whole time. what

[tangledinink]

mikey's thirteenth birthday

i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now?

[julykings]

25 today

[choccy-milky]

Um... here is a widdle Clora for you♡♡♡

You're such an inspiration to people have a nice eternity☆!

AWW I LOVE HER THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PICREW🥹!!!!! the daisies you put in her hair and the little snake plushie...😭😭 WHO NEEDS SEBASTIAN??? snake plushie is all clora needs🥰

TY AGAIN and you have a nice eternity as well!!!🥹💖💖💖

[askchuuyanakahara]

I feel so bad for Kouyou omg. The elevator scene!!! Chuuya should be made aware of his reactions and outbursts before he gives someone a heart attack 😭

@inwhichispeak

Kouyou: "I cannot STAND this anymore."

Chuuya: "I'm sorry?"

Kouyou: "Go speak to the boy to sort out your issues."

Chuuya: "I should get to work too."

Chuuya: "Plus, I don't think thats the solution Ane-san wants me to take right now.."

Chuuya: "I need to, right? In order to speak to him."

Chuuya: "I should be home by then. That idiot doesn't do anything so he should be free too.."

Dazai: "What did I do?!"

[hinata-boke]

yahoo~

[expelliarmus]

[probably-impossible]

work doodles

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

I'd like to congratulate you on getting your CPR certification.

Now remember, when you’re going in for compressions, it should sound like somebody is standing behind you with the worlds largest Dorito and cracking it open!

Go in firm and hard and snap as many ribs as you can on the way down, that means you’re doing it right.

You save that life. Good luck.

Or... Or... Or kill them, I don’t fucking care.

Audio source

[knifebaby3000]

eleven years / when the thorn bush turns white, that's when i'll come home

[scyllas-revenge]

Just read your “leap of faith” fic for Legolas and I have say I absolutely adore your writing style! Would it be possible for you to do a drabble or some rough ideas on what he would act like in the morning after waking up?

Thank you so much!! Honestly, that wasn't a fic I really planned to write more of, but your ask got my extremely rusty brain back to writing, so thank you! I'm not sure I succeeded at the style I was going for here, but it was fun to give it a try. I hope you like it!

(and @heilith I remember you requested to be tagged in my next Legolas content, so here you go!)

Leap of Faith, Part 2

aka even more Only One Bed shenanigans

Legolas/reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 1100

Rating: G

Read part 1 here!

Legolas wakes to the sound of his name, but does not hurry to open his eyes. Your voice is a thing of beauty, as it always is, and he sighs a soft smile at the sound, willing the outside world away.

Soon his name is on your lips again, a bit more insistently this time. He shakes his head faintly. Not yet. Mortal sleep is a new experience for him, and he would indulge in it a few moments more. 

Now your hand presses against his shoulder. Regretfully, Legolas allows himself to be jostled into real wakefulness at last, where he finds you lying beside him, soft morning light streaming in through the inn’s faded curtains.

Your body is still curled toward him under the blankets. 

Concern pinches at your brow as you study him. You have never seen him sleep with his eyes closed—is he unwell? But then, perhaps elves never feel unwell. The wry laugh in your words does not fully disguise the sudden pain behind your eyes—perhaps you are reminded, as he so often is, of the immeasurable gulf between you, mortal and immortal, human and elf.

But you were never one to dwell overmuch on such heavy matters—you rest a hand against his forehead, half-teasing, as though to check for fever. Burning up, you inform him, your solemn pronouncement betrayed by the grin playing on your lips. Alas, he is quite unwell indeed! You fear his days are numbered. He had best get his affairs in order.

Legolas does not return your laugh. He will feel unwell in truth, he knows, the moment he must rise from this bed and carry on his journey with you, pretending he did not hear you whisper his name in your sleep, pretending he did not succumb to mortal dreams by your side. But he must give you an answer, and such a confession will not do. 

He was curious, he admits at last. It is no lie—not even a half-truth, for he is burning with curiosity, has burned ever since he met you. It is a weak answer, but it seems to satisfy you, and you smile at him more earnestly. 

Your hand still rests on his forehead, as though you’d quite forgotten to remove it. 

Have you shifted nearer to him? He does not think so. Yet the distance between you now seems unbearably small, intimate, your legs half-entwined under the blankets, his hair touching yours on your pillow. Nearly a lover’s embrace.

It is improper, Legolas thinks to himself, the instinct to scramble back rising in his throat. His curiosity has always warred with nervousness around you, the desire to at once surge forward and retreat often keeping him at a standstill entirely. But you speak again, and his eyes are drawn to the movement of your lips, so hypnotizing that you are forced to repeat yourself twice before he understands. 

Has his curiosity been satisfied, then? Now that he has had a taste of mortal sleep? Your eyes crinkle with laughter, the sound dancing soft and intimate between you. Mortal sleep is quite dull, after all, and you fear he must be disappointed. You shake your head ruefully, your hand leaving his forehead only to brush, agonizingly, against his cheek as you draw away—

“No.” Legolas's hand grasps your retreating wrist before you are aware of it.

His voice is still soft, the half-hushed restraint of early morning that you, like all mortals, seem to favor, but you cannot fail to sense the change in it, a flame igniting the word, low and rasping and hungry.

You lay frozen for a moment, your lungs scarcely drawing breath. But an answering flame sparks behind your eyes, and you raise your brow at him. “No...you are not disappointed? Or no, you are not satisfied?”

Softly you return your hand to Legolas’s face, your fingers trailing tentatively over his cheekbone, his jaw, the shell of his ear, shaped so unlike your own. His heart soars at your touch, and he laughs softly for sheer joy. “How could you disappoint me?" His hand falls to your waist, drawing you nearer. "In the waking world and in sleep, there is delight to me in all you do.”

“I am glad.” Heat blooms on your cheeks, but your fingers continue to play over his face, his neck, his hair, and your smile now is a thing of fire. You lean in closer than ever, and he wishes it might burn him. “And how could I satisfy you?”

Oh, there can be no doubt, now, that you feel as he does. The little bedroom seems suddenly to be made of gold, the morning sun sinking into his skin as though this is the first sunrise ever to grace Middle-Earth, the world born anew before him. Yet for all his elation Legolas knows not how to answer—he wants too much, far more than he can ask of you, and he fears his curiosity will never be satisfied.

Smiling all the wider for his silence, you take pity on him, tapping a playful finger against his chest as though in thought. “Perhaps I might tell you what I dreamed of last night. Will that do?” 

Your touch burns over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, until your thumb sweeps softly over his lower lip. He swallows hard. He sees your sleeping face again, branded into his memory, your lashes fluttering, lips parting as you murmur his name. No, he thinks. It is not enough. “Perhaps you might show me instead.”

There is a heat beyond fire in your smile now, a heat to rival the rising sun. You know as well as he that this alone will not satisfy either of you, that this will begin something new and terrifying, a leap of faith far greater than the one he had taken last night in lying down beside you and closing his eyes. Yet he does not mean to retreat, and nor, it seems, do you. 

“Hmm. It will do, for a start.” 

Legolas is still chuckling fondly at your answer when you press his name against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair. As you pull his body flush against yours, sighing as he parts your lips to taste the joy and trust and desire on your tongue, his fears and doubts vanish like summer fog, for he knows you have faith in each other utterly. 

He knows that when you take this leap together, you will fly.

[buwheal]

Spamton please go to sleep, you look really tired