#i can't say where the plot is going or if I'm going to like it

[astoldbylanii]

Say It

ఌpaige bueckers x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, ovulation went crazy this month😭, basically no plot...like at all

inspired by - say it by ne-yo

---------☙

"Paige please..."

The only two words your brain could fathom right now, and you were lucky they made a sentence. She was the reason why.

"Please what baby?" She asked, but she knew the answer. She always knew what you wanted. She could tell from the way your body pushed itself closer to her hand. From the way your jaw fell open just from her light touches. From how soaked you were. Paige was fluent in the language your body spoke. Yet, she still didn't give it what it wanted needed.

"Come on now, I can't give you what you want unless you tell me what it is? I'm not a mind reader, baby." She insisted. That was a lie. Partially, anyway. She could read you in every way. Her hand traveled familiar paths down your hot skin. One of her hands traced careful circles on your thigh as the other was pressed into the bed, right beside your head. "Here? Is here good?" She pressed when you whined as her hand grazed over your wet lips.

"Baby-"

"Or here? Hm?" She cut you off, her fingers sinking between your lips to graze your clit. Just as fast as they were there, they left. A frustrated whine left your lips once again. "Come on baby, it's a simple question. Where do you want me?"

"Paige just-" You couldn't complete the sentence, but you could lead her hand down to where you wanted her. She tutted, pulling her wrist away from your hold.

"Now you know better." She scolded, but there was no real bite in her words. "Come on baby, just say it. All that running your mouth earlier and now you can't use your words? Say it baby, tell me what you want so I can give it to you. Can't be that hard." She teased, a cocky smile coming across her face as she watched you struggle every time her fingers brushed against your clit.

"Paige please. Need you so bad, P."

"Mhm, keep going. Tell me where." She encouraged, finally giving in and rubbing your that perfect button between your soaked lips.

"E- everywhere. Need your fingers inside, need your mouth on me. Please Paige- oh-" You were cut off by her finally giving you what you needed. Two of her fingers finally slipped into you with ease.

“That’s my good girl, finally using your mouth for something good.” She said with a proud smile. You moaned, gripping tight onto her shoulder as she smoothly got into a rhythm. “I’ma give you what you want but you gotta keep being vocal for me, ‘kay?”

“Mkay.” You panted out. You would do anything she wanted as long as she stopped talking and put her mouth where you needed it. Paige pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, continuing to press wet, open mouth kisses down the rest of your body until she reached between your thighs.

“I need to hear you from down here, baby. Let your moans be loud as your disrespect was earlier and keep your eyes on me.” She ordered, and you knew the underlying promise she hadn’t said. If you don’t listen, she’ll stop. So, you nodded in agreeance, your hand finding the back of her head as a silent urge. Paige laughed at your impatience, her free hand rubbing your thigh comfortingly as her fingers kept up her place. She press a swift kiss to your clit before taking between her lips,, sucking hard.

“Paige!” You cried out. Already, she almost had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud moan, finally receiving some relief. Paige kept up her pace with her fingers, flicking your clit with her tongue. Her first two fingers curled against your spot deliciously before she added a third, grazing that same spot again. “Oh fuck- right there, baby.” You said, as if she didn’t already know.

Paige sped her fingers up as her tongue circled around your pink clit before taking it into her mouth once again, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh goddd, Paige…” You whined. Though you hoped there was no god watching how Paige devoured your pussy right now. Your fingers gripped her hair harder as her fingers began to thrust harder, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused on you and your pleasure. She moaned into you, feeling the way you tugged on her blonde hair, as if she could get any closer. Just as you were about to reach that peak, just as your aching hole clenched around Paige’s fingers, she pulled her mouth away.

“Say it, tell me what you need, baby.” She said, waiting for you to follow through as her fingers kept moving. She watched with a smile as your mouth opened and close, being patient for the words to fall from your pretty lips. All that came was another moan.

“I know baby, I know. But you gotta tell me, show me how sorry you are for how you spoke earlier. Use your words now, pretty thing.” Paige tried to comfort, but her voice was only making it worse. She still was patient with you, her fingers keeping you right on edge. She knew you needed her mouth to finish you off.

“Need to cum, please Paige, please…”

“Mhm, that’s it baby.” She praised proudly, pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button before she removed her fingers only to be replaced by her tongue. Her tongue moved in and out quickly while her soaked digits rubbed your clit just as rapidly as her tongue fucked you.

“Oh shit-” Your back arched up off the bed, head thrown back as a high pitched moan left your throat that you knew Paige would mock you for later. Your body tensed, overwhelmed by the sudden change of pace before you came, making a mess on Paige’s tongue that she was happy to clean up.

Your legs spasmed around Paige’s head as she tenderly licked up the creamy essence that your pussy couldn’t seem to stop from exiting your body. Your now empty hole clenched around nothing as Paige pressed a final kiss to your clit before leaving to go get something to clean you up. You panted, trying to allow your body to come down from its high.

You were drifting off when Paige returned, only to receive a slap to your thigh that woke you right up. You look at her, confused until your eyes wander down to find the false dick attached to her hips. She smirks at the confused look on your face.

"Not you thinking we was done. Nah, turn that ass over."

"But Paige-"

"What'd I say?" She interrupted your protest, grabbing your hips and pulling down closer to the edge of the bed. “I said keep your eyes on me, and even though you look so fucking sexy when you throw your head back while you cum for me, that’s breaking eye contact baby. And contrary to what some may say, I’m a woman of my word. So we’re not done.”

“Paige, I don’t know if I can do anymore.” You admitted. The blonde haired made a noise that sounded like a scoff in response to your words. She shook her head at you, her hands traveling up and down your trembling thighs carefully.

“Come on now, you’ve done much more than this before. If you really don’t think you can, you know what to say, but I think you better tell your pussy that.” She tempted, her hand wandering to your aching cunt just to drag her thumb up and down your sopping lips. “She’s so ready for me, I know you can take more. Plus I think I deserve it after how you treated me earlier, hm?” Paige egged on, her fingers still mindlessly teasing you as her blue eyes bored into yours.

She was right too, you did kind of feel bad for the things you had said earlier. You were already thinking of ways to make it up to her but this was not on the list. Though, feeling the way her thumb began to rub your clit slowly, the way your body was reacting to her touch, you couldn’t help but to agree to go another round.

Paige smiled, her hand still making a mess of your pussy as she leaned down to give your soft lips a delicate kiss. You could still taste yourself on her tongue from when she had just made you cum before.

Paige pulled away just as she felt herself getting too deep into the kiss, a wet string of spit still connecting the two of you before you leaned up to get one last peck in. She finally pulled her hand away from your lower lips with a wet tap, bringing her thumb up to suck your juices off as she waited for you to turn around.

“Yeah, perfect like that, pretty girl.” The athlete complimented, pushing her palm into your back to make your arch a little bit deeper once you got on all fours. “Just like that…” she muttered to herself staring at your round ass. You already has a good body when you’d first met her, but she’d like to think the growth in your glutes was due to her, and not just because she’s been making you work out with her.

Paige gave your ass a quick tap, watching it move before she spread you for her, leaning down to spit on your pussy. Though, it wasn’t like it needed anymore lubricant. She spit on the 7-inch shaft as well, using her hand to get it nice and wet for you. With that, she leaned down to press a swift kiss to the side of your neck, one hand gripping your hip while the other guided the purple dick inside of you.

You both groaned out at the entrance. You because of the feeling, and her because she was enjoying watching the length disappear between your soaked lips.

“Fuck.” She let the curse tumble from her lips with ease. Once the length had completely disappeared, she let go of the base of the cock, instead, letting that hand travel up to grip your shoulder. She gave you one testing thrust to get used to the intrusion before her thrust became harsher. Her pace was fast, not wasting a second before picking up speed.

Paige bit her lip, watching the way your as recoiled against her hips before giving into temptation and giving it a hard smack. That plus her constant thrusts almost caused you to lose balance, but Paige was quick to fix you up.

“Nuh uh, keep that arch how I like it.” She scolded. It seemed like she was only getting rougher as the grip on your hip tightened and she began pulling your hips back to meet her thrusts.

“Oh fuck, Paige-” You moaned out. Loud clapping sound around the room as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Huh? You wanted to say something, baby?” She asked, breathing heavily as she waited for you to reply. She tsked when nothing but moans fell from your lips. “Damn baby, I know it feels good but I asked you something.” Paige said, her caring tone contrasting with the way her hips met your ass harshly. She swiftly swooped your hair into makeshift ponytail, pulling you up so her lips were next to your ear. “Since you can’t think of what to say right now, I’ma tell you. Say you’re sorry. Say you’re sorry for how you spoke to me earlier, you’re sorry for you’re nasty ass attitude. Cause, you are, right baby? You sorry?”

You nodded as much as you could with her tight grip on your hair, a whine falling from your lips once again. Paige chuckled, licking up your neck before sucking a hickey into your skin, right behind your ear.

“Say that shit then. Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry Paige. So sorry, oh fuck- didn’t mean it baby. Just missed you so oh-“ You gasped as Paige made a particularly hard thrust rub right up against your spot. “Shit Paige…”

“Yeah, I know pretty girl.” Paige said, finally releasing your hair from her grip. Only for her to push your head down into the pillow, her other hand still squeezing your hip. “I’ll accept your apology, just need you to cum for me baby.”

Paige kept aiming for that same spot, getting it everytime. Your moans were getting louder and louder with every thrust, almost overpowering the sound of applause in the room. You were right on edge, clenching your eyes tight as your body began to tremble against the mattress in a way only Paige could make it shake. Your hole clenched so tight around Paige’s cock that it made it hard for her to continue at her pace, but she kept on. Thank god you married an athlete.

“Come on baby, show me how sorry you are. Give it to me.” Just as she finished her sentence, her hand reach around to rub your clit, her fingers quickly matching her thrusts pace. That combined with the sound of her voice, plus the way that her dick kept brushing so perfectly against your spot had you falling apart just for her. “Oh yeah, just like that baby.” She praised as you came, her hand not slowing down as she watched you squirt all over her hand as pussy pushed her out along with your cum.

With shaky legs, you collapsed. Panting tired from the intensity of it all. You felt, Paige's cool hands gently rubbing on your hot skin, attempting to calm you down. Once your breath leveled out, she turned you to lay in your back once again.

"You okay?" She asked, hands running over your hips. You nodded, your heavy eyelids causing Paige to smile faintly. Your hands found hers and you intertwined them as she leaned down to peck your lips.

"I'm sorry." You whispered against skin, already trying to regain your strength to show just how sorry you were.

"I know." She whispered back with a smile.

[genderqueerdykes]

I can't reply to the post directly but I saw a post where you were talking about trans masc erasure especially when you were in college and like....I feel it. I started college in 2003 and identified as a cis butch lesbian because I didn't know there was anything else to be, but also MOST IMPORTANTLY because my "resources" and info on trans men were basically Boys Don't Cry, which every lesbian I knew referred to as a lesbian film and Brandon Teena as a lesbian. There were also vague comments from time to time about Chaz Bono at some point, but again, everyone around me was referring to him as a "confused lesbian". What's frustrating these days is that while there is more information out there and more spaces, there still isn't enough. Like, I learned basically everything I know about my body from Gen Z friends who had better education and affirming teachers. And also finding space when you're almost 40 is an impossible task sometimes. At almost every trans masc group I've attended I've been the oldest by almost 10 or sometimes almost 15 years. It's a really lonely experience. A handful of times we've had moderators who are young and not trans masc and they've talked over me and tried to "correct" the language I use to talk about my experiences - for example, I call myself FTM, and I also say things like "when I was presenting as a woman" or "when I thought I was a lesbian". I use this language intentionally because there were over 30 years of my life where I had no idea of the possibility that I could be anything but a woman and that IS how I identified, and there are over 30 years of experience with that identity that I am still recovering from and that shaped the course of my life in a way that's difficult or impossible to explain without acknowledging it. Part of our erasure unfortunately comes within the community and people not listening to the experiences of others whose journey doesn't line up with the plot beats of a cinematic, linear coming out story (not to knock that if someone has it! But leave room for those of us who don't!). Even though I'm on T and have had top surgery, there's still so much I've had to figure out myself and it's a lonely life. I don't know how to date or make connections (or even if I should! I'm aromantic which I think complicates things sometimes). Anyway I don't know if any of this is relevant but like. I just wanted to say I relate to the erasure stuff. Wouldn't change who I am for anything, but I would change the world in which I had to figure it out.

im really sorry you can relate to this, it affects so many people and a lot of people are proud to say they don't care. it's not okay. trans men and mascs need community irl. i'm bet things were way harder back then, i can't even imagine how hard it must've been to talk about being transmasculine in 2003.

im going to keep my reply brief because i do not want to distract from your experience

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Shot Down - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

He hates being told 'No'...

tw: codependency, manipulation.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Sevika nods, once. But the sorrow lingers in her eyes.

"What about you?" she asks. "Will you be—?"

"I'll be here."

"Doing what?"

"There are a few threads to tie up. A handful of meetings with the chem-barons. Then a trip to the Terrarium. As soon as I'm done, I'll join Jinx and Viktor in the Aerie. By then, I anticipate the glyph will be in their crosshairs. And Violet, already cold. By the time her body's found at the Abattoir, Zaun will have a brand-new power source under wraps. One that will transform the city. Rewrite the past. Reshape our future."

From beneath his half-lidded eye, he watches Sevika absorb the words. Her face is immovable, but there are undercurrents of conflict in her forehead and jaw. Her mouth—kiss-swollen—parts, then shuts.

She can sense the charge or of excitement in him. The resolute sense of purpose. It compels her, as it always has.

But that sorrow—that strange, inexplicable sorrow—won't fade. Her hand, in his, won't let go.

Like she cannot shake the feeling he is gone for good.

Yielding to rare impulse, Silco kisses her. A kiss that goes from claiming to paying court with the same thread of savoring slowness.

She shivers, but doesn't answer.

"This is it, Sevika," he breathes. "After all these years. The moment we've been waiting for."

"I know." She swallows. "I know."

"What is it?"

"I guess—I didn't realize that today was the day."

"Neither did I. Not until last night. Jinx dispatched a message by crow."

"And you came here."

"To prepare you."

"You could've radioed."

"And start my day without a proper legover?"

The levity falls flat. Her expression doesn't alter. No low-slung smirk. No sly quirk of the brow. Just the sorrow, and a hand in his.

Again, he kisses her. Her eyes fall shut. The crude Shimmer veins on her cheekbone pulse like a wound seeping blood. He traces them with the folded fingers of his free hand, down to the curve of her throat.

The heat of her fresh-fucked body exerts an irresistible pull. Her skin is so richly scented. So electrifyingly sweet.

The countdown's in motion: six bells and a schedule from hell.

But need's got no use for a timepiece.

It's why, the past few weeks, he's sought her out, again and again. Home can always be leveraged against you. But a steadfast tether is the surest bulwark in a storm. And that storm's inside him: a restless cage of teeth and hunger and howling rage.

It's been that way since the blood game began. He's plotted every square; the pieces are in place. The checkmate is close.

Sevika's closer still. Her heat, her pulse, her body—all within reach.

All his.

Slowly, Silco eases her back across the rumpled sheets. Kisses her again, his hand roaming from her throat down to the bisecting line of breasts and belly and the damp vee of thighs. But when his palm delves between them, ready to begin preliminaries, he meets resistance. The solid muscles of her thighs flex shut, keeping his questing fingers out.

Frowning, Silco stops.

"Sevika?"

Her stare holds his, the way it's always done. But the light in her eyes has gone strange.

"You should go," she says. "Big day ahead."

"No chance of a victory lap?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Oh, I don't know." Silco insinuates his fingers an inch deeper. Her body gives a telltale tremor. "I've been in front, below, behind. But inside's where the real payoff is."

"You can't afford the distraction."

"It's a small one. Indulge me."

He dips his head, kissing the hollow of her breastbone. Tongues the groove of muscle down to the pucker of navel. There is salt caught in the fine hairs of her skin. Life, at its strongest, radiating under his lips.

"Don't," she says, but with a catch in her breath.

"You don't want to?"

"Not now."

"I can change your mind." He nuzzles the dense pooch of curls at her mons. Breathes in the heady musk of her. The faint quiver of her belly is a dead giveaway. "Just say the word."

Her cybernetic hand catches him by the nape. Gunmetal eyes lock with his own.

"The word's Kill It," she says.

The safeword—non-negotiable—stops him short.

He doesn't let go, but his hand slips away. He still wants her, so badly it hurts, except the hurt's now something he cannot put a name to. Conflict; self-doubt. Reflexively, his mouth seeks hers, an anchor amid the alienness.

This time, she lets the kiss linger: a simple contact of flesh-on-flesh. But a moment later, she gently, firmly, withdraws. Her good hand squeezes his, letting go before he has a chance to lock his fingers into hers.

Their clasp falls apart.

The tether's gone.

Sitting up, Sevika reaches, not for the vodka, but her smokes. Lipping a cigarette from the pack, she sparks up. Her hair—past her shoulders now, and growing ravishingly long with each week—falls forward, shielding her expression.

The smoke's a shield too. Behind it, he senses a strategic retreat.

"Go," she repeats, and it's not a tone that invites persuasion.

"You're turning me down."

"I am."

She is rifling through her drawer. Finding what she wants—an old horsehair brush that once belonged to Nandi—she leans over and begins brushing vigorously from the nape. He cannot see her face at all, and half-expects her to set fire to the glossy black locks with her cigarette.

He half-expects the flat to go up in flames, and engulf his pride with it.

"Sevika—"

She preempts whatever spiel he's preparing to spin. "Nothing personal. But a lot's riding on today. Especially with Jinx at the helm."

"She's not at the helm. I am."

"You've given her the tools. The gem. The runes. The map."

"I trust her to succeed."

"And I trust her to blow us sky-high. So, on the off-chance it happens, I'm prepping in advance." Silco watches the gliding play of muscles along her spine. The brushstrokes slow. Tossing her hair back, she takes one last drag, then grinds the butt into the ashtray. The smoke dispels, but her shield holds. "You're the brains, Silco. I'm just the muscle. And I'd rather those muscles be ready to roll. For Zaun's sake."

"Is that why I'm being evicted? Out of patriotic duty?"

"Partly."

"And the rest?"

"The rest's between me and mine."

"Sevika—"

"Next time, sir, I'd suggest starting your day with a cold shower."

Silco stares. The snark is vintage Sevika. But there's something oddly forced to it. A blistering bite that goes beyond her usual repertoire.

It unsettles him. As does the bluntness of the brush-off. She's been at his beck and call for years. Never refused his advances. Never once held back. Hell, half the time, he never even has to ask. It's simply a matter of when.

Now her distance is a drawbridge, impassable.

And Silco realizes: he's forgotten what it is to be denied. To be made to heel.

To feel human.

Inexorably, the rage cuts through. At himself, for wanting. At her, for withholding.

And rage, he can work with.

"If you insist," he says mildly. "Though I was going to share the rest."

"The rest?"

"The game-plan after Vi's out of the picture." A beat. "And how Noxus enters into it."

That gets her attention.

Her head swivels, just a fraction. Her slitted eyes seek his. Silco says nothing. He only smiles. A smile that is the equivalent of a card leveled across a poker table. On its surface, stenciled in bold black print: an ace of spades. On its flipside, a handwritten scrawl: Fuck You.

She had her chance, and she's squandered it.

Now, they'll play it his way.

"So," she says quietly, "you're still holding out on me."

"We can't always get what we want."

"Except for you, huh?"

"My wants are Zaun's wants." Lazily, he rises. "Zaun's wants are mine."

"And the rest?"

"In time."

His clothes are a heaped mess across the floorboards. He'd allowed himself a spot of spontaneity, where ordinarily he'd fold them first. Now it strikes him as a warning sign. Trust: creeping from the corners of his control. Tempting him to let it bleed all the way through.

He'll never make the same mistake twice.

Methodically, he dresses. Trousers, shirt, socks. Shrugging on his waistcoat, he adjusts the lapels, and begins tying the cravat. In the mirror, Sevika's stare roams. There is a bit of a voyeur in her. She's always liked to watch him slinking into his clothes, same way Nandi enjoyed watching him slither out of them. Something about the way the movements limn his scarred musculature, his fingertips spidering across buttons and fastenings, puts her into a dark-eyed reverie.

Silco's never minded. It's no different from when he watches her kill at his command.

Today, it's different. Something in her eyes—in their raw steeliness—is telling. It's not her old look: the one from when he'd just been smooth-talking Sil, and she was just a girl with a good right hook. The way she'd look at him then: an unguarded stare that saw past the layers of charm and calculation he put on for the rest of the world. That saw the man inside.

All the parts of him, dark and light, laid bare.

Now, it's a look that sees too much. And, seeing, understands that there's nothing left.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Island of the Procrastinating Brain

I swear, my brain is actively trying to drive me insane.

Back in 2022 it came up with a plot for @alex51324 's "Island of the Gays" where the Duke of Crowborough comes to the Island because, well, by this point the man's less of a human being than he is a walking bundle of neurosis. I got through a couple of scenes before my brain got tired and stalled out, but I still have a good frame work. Every once in awhile, I come back and poke at it and get out a few more sentences. Maybe even a paragraph or two.

Yeah, have I mentioned I'm not a fast writer?

And Phillip does NOT want to deal with his issues and Thomas does NOT want to deal with Phillip, which, okay, FAIR, but that's kinda the point of the whole thing. But in the meantime my brain still wants to write Phillip on the Island, so what's it done?

Come up with a sequel, naturally!

And it really, really wants to write this sequel despite the fact I can't do it properly until I've written the first piece, which neither my brain or my characters seems interested in, because they are all PUNKS, but my brain will NOT stop thinking about this hypothetical sequel which, at this point, will never be written.

So I'm just going to write out the summary for the thing here, in case anyone's curious and wants a laugh, because I can and maybe it'll galvanize the lump of grey cells in my skull to be productive. Maybe. Not holding my breath.

Things you need to know before going into this:

Random.org has decided that Thomas is married to Peter Fitzroy for this one, which is kinda important for Thomas's characterization.

Phillip only kinda counts as human at this point, but he's actively trying to fix that. The results are mixed.

It was inspired by a couple of polls I ran when I was trying to figure out where I was taking the first piece (hey! I have the last scene written!) and the suggestions that Phillip might like working in some sort of architectural field (believe that was from @o-rchidae) and that he wind up married with an older working class bloke who would not take his shit.

Right then. Let's go.

-

Okay, so, this takes place a couple of years after the Walking Disaster of Crowborough arrived. At one point he was tapped to help with building or repairs or some such and he realized he liked it, so he's taken to studying books on building and architecture and has joined up with the local work crew. The problem is, he's basically teaching himself out of books and then applying it to real life, so he keeps getting ideas about "Say, why don't we do this thing THIS way?" and while it'll seem like a reasonable idea, there is, in fact, a very good reason NOT to do it that way, but because a) he's a Duke and b) a bunch of people hate him, on general principle if nothing else, everyone just goes "Oh, okay, sure" and the do it that way and…it fails. And the people who hate him laugh and it's obvious that EVERYONE knew it was a bad idea and he gets frustrated, but he wont' say it, because a) Duke and b) boys don't cry.

And this goes on for awhile.

After a bit, though, a new guy shows up who has lots of experience building things. It was kinda his job before he got here. He is educated in the ways of Building Things and knows what's up. He's also at least ten years Phillip's senior and has limited patience for upper class twits, so when he joins the crew and is informed there's this know-it-all-Duke who's always demanding they do things his way (by which we mean 'making suggestions that everyone just goes along with'), even though it's stupid and wastes time and resources, this guy goes "Pff, not on MY watch!"

And sure enough, the next time Phillip makes one of his suggestions, instead of "Yeah, sure, okay" he gets "We're not doing that." Why? "'Cause it's a stupid idea that won't work." WHY? "Because (insert full explanation of why the thing wouldn't work)." And Phillip stops asking and the rest of the crew cheers and laughs at how the old guy sure showed him and they anticipate an end to the questions.

THIS TOTALLY BACKFIRES.

Instead Phillip, who had actually been kinda slowing down on the suggestions over time, is making ALL of the suggestions, ALL of the times, and arguing every last aspect of the suggestion with Old Timer before giving up. The crew can't put up a fence without an argument. Old Timer starts calling Phillip 'Phil'. Rather than tell him to stop, Phillip just starts calling Old Timer by a similar nickname, which Old Timer ignores, because not giving in to his own trick, oh no. There's talk of starting a police department in case they murder each other.

After this has gone on for awhile there is a Big Dramatic Plot Twist and the Old Timer goes out into the woods for something and…doesn't come back in a timely manner. He stays gone long enough for people to get worried and mount a search. To everyone's shock, Phillip wants to come. He's quite insistent on the point. They finally agree to put him in Thomas's party because he and Thomas "get along now" (read: Thomas has spent enough time with Peter talking him down that he can tolerate Phillip's presence under the right circumstances as long as he doesn't say anything). The parties go out and before long, Thomas and Phillip's party has the good luck to find Old Timer. He's accidentally been injured badly enough he can't walk and crawling through the woods is not easy going. The manner of this accident wasn't a super obvious bad idea, but that could maybe have been avoided with a bit more thought, perhaps, with luck. Most of the party just nods and goes "Yeah, sounds about right, could have happened to anyone."

…Phillip flips straight out and starts screaming at Old Timer for being an idiot who could have got himself killed. And then storms off a ways into the woods, back toward the village, leaving everyone else wondering a) the best way to get the injured man back home and b) what the heck just happened with the prissy little Duke. Thomas gets deputized to go find out what Phillip's problem is. There is protesting involved, but he finally gives in because he'd like to be home by dinner, thank you very much.

Phillip has, by this point, stopped to have a smoke, which both gives Thomas an opportunity to catch up and, thankfully, a scent to find him by. Thomas asks him why on earth he's so upset that Old Timer is hurt since the two of them hate each other and everyone figured Phillip would LOVE it if the other man died…

And that's when he finds out that everyone's had that relationship all backwards. Phillip doesn't hate the Old Timer, oh no! He loves being called 'Phil'. He absolutely adores the fact that when he asks "Why don't we do this?", rather than just go "Yeah, okay" and waste time and resources doing something HE KNOWS WON'T WORK, the Old Timer says 'no' and, over the course of the argument, actually EXPLAINS why not, which means Phillip ACTUALLY LEARNS THINGS. The more he argues, the better he becomes at building things and he doesn't have to try and decipher what some book is telling him or guess what the book might be leaving out and he LOVES IT and if the Old Timer had died, how would he learn things then? When Thomas points out that he'd learn just as much - maybe more - if he just asked the Old Timer to teach him things rather than argue, Phillip low key panics because what if he figures out Phillip WANTS to learn and stops talking to him or refuses because he doesn't like him at all?

By this point Thomas is a) trying to remember if he was ever THIS paranoid, and praying he wasn't and b) wondering what on earth to do with a Duke who is clearly in love with a crusty old working class codger, but hasn't figured it out yet.

He decides to tell Rouse and make it HIS mess to deal with.

Phillip and the Old Timer eventually get married and get a cottage of their own and Phillip about dies happy at the idea of a home that he actually owns instead of something that he's the custodian of for the next generation who will be the custodians for the generation after that and so on.

[lovemyromance]

"Elriel isn't a forbidden romance"

Oh I'm sorry - did Rhys haul Azriel into his office and say

"Why the hell are you sneaking around, old sport? Go make love to her right now in the garden! I'll kick Lucien out myself! Celebrate your love out in the open, fuck them consequences!"

Or did he - idk - explicitly say:

"Stay away from her" "I can and I will [order you to do that]."

And then proceed to explicitly detail exactly what the consequences would be if Lucien or his volatile, evil sire reacted poorly: A blood duel - which could rip apart any alliances they have with not just Autumn, but the Human Lands, and Spring.

Did we just gloss over that part ... or????

There's a huge misinterpretation (purposeful) that people have when they claim Elriel isn't forbidden.

Yes, Rhysand did say Elain will have their full support should she choose to reject the bond.

Keywords: "should she choose"

I have no doubt that Rhys would support Elain, Feyres dearest sister, if she decided to reject the bond. He adores Elain, no question.

But has Elain done that yet? Has Elain gone to Rhys or Feyre and told them she wants to reject the bond? Does she even KNOW it's possible?

Likely not. The way they keep inviting Lucien to things despite her clear discomfort is a huge sign they haven't told her she can reject the bond.

Obviously, anything related to HER bond would be in HER book. Whether she accepts it or rejects it - everything would be in her book, from her POV. You can't cover that entire plot line in a bonus chapter or from Nesta or Feyres POV.

The point I want to make goes back to Rhys, however. Although he would support her, I don't think he is in any way, pushing Elain to reject the bond. Rhys also considers it a sacred gift, and given he is a mated male, I'm sure he places significance on that bond.

Not to mention - that mating bond benefits Rhys politically. It keeps Lucien in line, keeps the BOE / Human lands in line, keeps their alliances to Spring and Autumn. Lucien is important to him, and the only leverage Rhysand has is that mating bond. It's the only way he can trust Lucien to not fuck them over.

Rhys, while he would support Elain in whatever she decides to do, does not particularly want her to reject this bond because it is political leverage. Nothing more, nothing less.

He does not want Elain to accept Lucien against her will. He does not want her to be unhappy with Lucien. He is hoping they will work things out - just like everyone else (except Elain and Nesta and Azriel lmao).

And he doesn't want Azriel "interfering" with that possibility. He doesn't want Azriel starting a war while Feyres pregnant, while they have a death god on the loose. He doesn't want Lucien to break all alliances. So he forbids Azriel from seeing Elain.

I have no doubt, all Azriel has to do is say the words "I love her" and all Elain has to do is echo that sentiment for Rhys to drop the order. I have no doubt he'll fully support them.

But till that day - Rhys not trying to encourage it.

And now, that day where Elain & Azriel actually confess their feelings for each other is further away, because of Rhys interfering in the first place.

It doesn't change the fact that there could still be a war with Autmn if Lucien decides to call a blood duel. Or if Beron does. There's going to be discontent.

Either way - Elriel is very much a forbidden romance. Because there are external political and societal factors keeping them apart. It's not JUST Rhys keeping them apart - it's all the consequences he listed, it's the societal significance of the mating bond, the cauldron's will and corruption.

This is what creates a compelling novel: drama, conflict, angst, and romance. I for one, cannot wait to read it.

[condemnationau]

hihi!! Happy wednesday :D

I'm so honoured to see how many people liked episode one of Condemnation :,) It's been such a joy drafting the plot and I've finally started the second draft of the plotline- which is where this silly boy comes in!

Here is CondemnedGaster! I haven't written his "finalized" part in the comic just yet BUT!!! he's going to play a huge role in the story, pulling strings, moving pieces into juuust the right places and whatnot- so I needed to have his design ahead of time :D He's a lot more of an intimidating entity in this story, taking the role of "flowey" in some aspects, you could say.

Anywho, I plan to start illustrating episodes once I've written the "bridge" of the story that leads up to the climax and I hope to upload each episode weekly so I can't wait to see you there :D!

Enough rambling, thank you so much for reading this!

[nemesis-writer]

Five Minutes (Chapter 3)

Masterlist Let the Games Begin TW: mentions of blood, mental illness

The Waynes were waiting in agony for their first game. They were prepared to battle it together. But what they didn't know is that they each of them have to go through it alone.

In the Base...

I'm only known as Eurus in the underground world but my name shall always be (Y/N). I have built myself up all the way just to taste the blood in my hands. I was never gonna be the next Robin nor Batman, so why not create a name for my own.

I was able to send the letter for the first test for them, and have it sent anonymously. Now, I need to sleep as well.

I maybe a concierge of crime, but I also need to be with my baby.

At the Waynes'...

Everyone had to keep their eyes peeled and remain unflinching. Whenever there is a delivery or a package, there is always an inspection with x-rays in order to make sure that it's harmless.

They had to take extra precautions in order to prevent the exploitation of their identities, along with the ramifications of their 'stainless' reputation.

Until it was finally there...

The first game.

It had 'DAMIAN.' Written in capital letters, and in the notorious green color designed. Thanks Riddler.

The letter...

There's a child's life on the line Little Demon. If you try to pull anything, so here's a little riddle.

Here's a riddle based on Squid Game, Saw, and a basement:

'In shadows deep, where fear does grow, A game begins, you do not know. With each step forward, the danger nears, The stakes are high, and so are fears.

Twisted minds, with plans so sly, Trapped in a place where you can't ask why. A room cold, with echoes loud, Walls closing in, no escape allowed.

Through chains and locks, you struggle, fight, But only the brave can see the light. The clock is ticking, time is tight, Where are you now? What’s out of sight?'

"Bruce, what does this mean?", Damian wonders.

"Walls closing in? Trapped in a- Oh shit." Bruce cursed. It was an unusual sight for Bruce to curse since he was usually informed how barbaric it was by Alfred.

"It's a basement of an abandoned factory." Bruce stated.

"A bit more specific since there's like a hundred of them especially in Gotham." Jason says.

"Alright so I need everyone to split up and go through every abandoned factory and if anyone sees any sign of life or a clue then speak in the comms." Bruce commanded.

They all spread out one by one looking for the kid or at least a clue. Factory to factory, street to street, they searched high and low and even the most minute details weren't left out.

Until they finally found it.

The first clue.

"Guys I found the first clue, I'm in Bludhaven Street."yelled Dick.

Everyone rushed and reached the basement. It also showed an old, probably made in the 1900's, telephone. They were too eager to even notice the hidden security cameras.

Damian eagerly opened it and read:

'In a room so small, the walls feel tight, A game is set, but not of delight. No choice, no chance to run away, You must stay sharp and make your play.

The door is locked, the air is cold, Silent whispers of the truth untold. A puzzle waits, a test of mind, With every step, danger you’ll find.

Ticking sounds, a faint warning near, What’s hidden here is crystal clear. Almost there, the end in sight— But tread carefully, or face the night.'

'Room, ticking, no chance, locked door.' Bruce tries to think of it.

"A bomb in an apartment." Jason figured out and yelled. All the the sudden the phone starts to ring.

"Someone answer the phone," Cassandra yelled.

"You answer the fucking phone," Damian replied.

"This is your test Demon Spawn there is a kid on the line and more people with the kid." Jason retorts.

Damian reluctantly answered the phone and heard:

'Congratulations for the first game, Where blood will spill and none’s to blame. A twisted start, a sinister plot, A place where hope is soon forgot.

The faces cold, their eyes wide with fear, For every step, a fate draws near. No room for mercy, no chance to flee, In this cruel game, there’s no decree.

As the doors close, the lights grow dim, The air grows thick with a haunting hymn. A moment's silence, a final breath, The line between life and certain death.

Congratulations for the first game, But it’s too late now to place the blame. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it’s time to spin, Let the games begin.'

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

[katsuki-king-of-twinks]

Pierce Brown's ability to believably write from Virginia's perspective will always amaze me.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm not going back to Gusu with you.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭

[screamingwiththewolves]

I generally don't make posts like this, cause I don't wanna start an argument or disagreement, but I do find the "Is Hyde really a person?" discourse, a bit odd...I know it's a comic, and maybe I'll be proved horribly incorrect but...

Does he have emotions, with personality traits and preferences? Yes.

Does he insist he's a person? Yes.

Then he is, in fact, a person.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when I want to write something self indulgent to give me all the angsty and cuddly hurt/comfort feels but I can't because I end up feeling guilty because I'm seeking after feels that I feel in an inappropriate place because my mom told me one time when I was 15 that I shouldn't search that out or it's probably sexual sin but it confuses me because ALL the feels happen that way for me even if it's entirely platonic and nonsexual and so I don't know if it's okay to want to write to that because apparently all pleasure of any sort, even over platonic stories, is sexual or comes with a possibly probably sexual feeling and I also am having a hard time figuring out what's genuine conviction from God and what's just my anxiety/OCD/perfectionism/fear of failure

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

if scars don't make man look good then being alive sure does

[mokeonn]

I love art and being creative so much but I really hate that low point in my story making process. Right now I'm trying to come up with the main plot for my story, my "defeat ganon" if you will, and it has been a huge nightmare. I am constantly coming up with the little details, smaller villains for arcs, and different cool concepts; without that "defeat ganon", I don't actually have anything to work with.

I basically have to wait until an idea pops in my head and I have a main plot idea down, then I have to refine everything to fit that idea, adjust the idea, and all that fun stuff.

But it's been a while since I came up with a story like this from scratch, so I completely forgot just how frustrating this period between coming up with concepts for the main plot is.

[t-lostinworlds]

you know, i do realize how hard i can be on myself when it comes to writing. particularly when it comes to finishing a series bc i see other writers being able to complete fic series so easily and i always get so critical of myself over it like, maybe i should write more or maybe i should spend more time on it etc.

but then i thought, usually these fic series have an overall word count of at least 30-40k words. so i'm like girl, you literally just wrote a 30k word "one shot" in roughly 2 weeks. i think you're writing just fine.

[theflyingfeeling]

fictalkfictalkfictalk