#i don't know if i will write any of these

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main short

Look, I don't know if you can tell, but I really like soulmate AUs, okay. Also, writing something exactly 500 words is more annoying than I thought it would be, but was a fun experiment.

Lightly inspired by this post.

Edit: there is a part 2 now!

Danny's parents were never concerned about the words on Danny’s wrist. Given their occupation, they thought Danny would meet someone while studying, or perhaps even lecturing on ghosts, or maybe as part of some other job in the future. Jazz has always been concerned about the words on Danny’s wrist. This is probably the normal reaction, given most people do not surround themselves with the dead. 

Danny himself was concerned about it for a while. But then he died. The amount of death surrounding him at all times, what with his parents’ study of ghosts, practically tripled after that. And suddenly the words ‘Is he dead?’ were a lot less concerning. Because in his life, oftentimes the answer was yes.

Not that he was always around dead bodies or anything. But the company he kept did include a large amount of ghosts and other ectoplasmic beings, that while they were not dead, weren’t technically alive either. 

So, Danny moved on with his life as normal. He knew what his words were, but was never actively listening for them. For a few years there he was barely hanging on to sanity, battling ghosts and trying to graduate high school. 

Eventually, life calmed down. His parents, unfortunately, died in their own lab accident. Danny was in his senior year at the time, and Jazz took a semester off of college to help him graduate and get accepted at university himself. Then they shut the portal down and moved on from Amity Park.

Jazz went back to Yale. Danny, who did not make high enough grades for that, went to Gotham University. It was there that he discovered he actually really liked college. School was a lot easier when he wasn’t fighting for his life all the time, and this time he got to take classes he was actually interested in. 

By the start of his second year, his life was looking up. He was majoring in mechanical engineering, and he loved all his science classes. He had a somewhat decent apartment, and was living without much worries on the money from selling his parents’ house. Gotham is not the best area, but it can be a really cheap place to live. And he didn’t see Sam, Tuck, or Jazz as often as any of them would like, but they were all happy where they were.

Which makes the current moment much more distressing than it would have been in his teenage years. As Danny looks at the now-dead body in front of him, then turns and presses his forehead into the alley wall. He’s seconds away from banging his head against it, but that would only give him a headache and would in no way help the current situation. 

The vigilante standing across the alley, on the other side of the body, did not move for a solid minute upon rounding the corner onto the scene. Then he asks, in a voice distorted by tech, “Is he dead?”.

This is not good.

[teaboot]

TOP 10 PERSONAL FAVE MOVIES TO WATCH WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE ASS

I don't like movies that stress me out because life is already stressful but I DO love catharsis comedy found family friendship fantasy and violence so here are my top 10 movies and series to have a good time watching

Numbered for convenience but not in any particular order

John Wick 1 and 2: An ordinary man grieving the loss of his wife gets dragged back into his past as a shadowy, invisible world of international killers for hire is slowly revealed to be living among us. A love note to set design, lighting, and choreography. My favourite part is fixating on the symbolism. DO NOT WATCH 3. 4 is okay. DO NOT WATCH 3. There is a dog death in 1 that will make you cry so skip that part if you have to. DO NOT WATCH 3.

The lord of the Rings, all 3, extended edition best watched if you're on the couch with the flu and expect to fall asleep OR if it's your day off and it's raining outside OR if you have like 5 people lounging around in pajamas

Six Underground: Essentially an hour and a half long car commercial music video with found family and a fresher take on acommon plot. Ryan Reynolds essentially writes and directs a Michael Bay movie where 6 independant criminals gather together to overthrow a violent foreign dictatorship. You show up for a dumb heist and walk out ready to build a guillotine. TW for violence, car crashes, chemical warfare, and genocide. A very cathartic ending. Does unfortunately do the whole "vague, impoverished middle-eastern country" thing but the citizens are actually show as human beings which is a nice change of pace and oh wow that's depressing isn't it

The Princess Diaries 1 and 2: A sort-of-a-loser teenage girl, played by a 2001 Annie Hathaway, learns that her late father was a king of a foreign nation and must become a confident and responsible leader for his people. There is a scene in the rain where you will experience emotions. Best watched with snacks. 2 features an enemies-to-lovers type deal with Chris Pine.

Ella Enchanted: A shrek-style semi-musical fantasy romance in which a young woman is cursed at birth to do everything anyone tells her to do. Features several Queen songs and dance numbers sung by Annie Hathaway and that guy who plays the sad dog guy in Hannibal.

Stardust: A huge loser travels from 1800s England (?) to a magical world in order to fetch a fallen star for the insufferable love of his life before she marries a massive douchebag. The huge loser? Charlie Cox. The star? A living person. Also a whole bunch of princes are ALSO looking for them as a race for the throne while discreetly killing each other off. And also a bunch of witches want to eat her so they can be young and sexy. 11/10. I used to watch this 10 minutes at a time on a YouTube channel that posted it in chunks filmed on a digital camera in their living room

The Last Holiday: Queen Latifah, playing someone played by Queen Latifah, has been working an underappreciated minimum wage job for years, living a safe and conservative life trying to lose weight and save money. Then she finds out she has months to live, and decides to finally quit her job and blow it all on one massive luxury holiday vacation complete with five-star dining, making friends and finding love and confidence along the way. It's definitely corny but it makes me so happy thank you Queen Latifah

Zathura: It's the plot to the original Jumanji but in space instead of the rainforest. But listen to me: There's a twist reveal at the end that you need to pretend isn't there. It is vitally important when you get to that part- and you will know what part when it happens- that you pretend it didn't. Otherwise, a fresh and enjoyable adventure for any age!

Redacted cause I haven't seen it in a long time and it may be worse than I remember, gotta rewatch

Bullet Train. You go in expecting a ham-fisted find-the-mcguffin style action comedy and are blindsided by excellent narrative symmetry and genuinely likeable characters. Fresh takes on old themes and creative action sequences. My little brother said "It's good", and he's a man who once sincerely argued that Lord of the Rings could have been better. It's fun and punchy violence with just enough smart stuff to not let your brain get bored

[vaguely-concerned]

on the one hand I think inner demons could stand to have a bit more romanced rook specific content, but on the other hand the underlying in-built implication that 'yours is the one true voice of comfort and safety in my inner world' is a sentiment and intimacy so way beyond the romantic or the platonic or any secret third thing you could care to name that it makes me lose my entire poor little mind a bit. it's so big and fundamental — near-existential — that in that exact moment at least the distinctions kind of seem irrelevant.

all the people lucanis' mind conjures up along the way are relationships he has that are unavoidably mixed and fraught in some ways even when they're also full of love (they are fraught BECAUSE they're full of love) — the good in them inseparable from things that hurt him at the same time. (it's about: the basic disorganized attachment patterns this poor guy is dragging around with him. careful with those, they're dellamorte heirlooms. what you love also inevitably hurts you and you won't be allowed to have one without the other, you have to surrender parts of your soul to hold on to what little you have left: this is the story up until now.) and the idea that rook isn't that to him — that beneath the fear of wanting them when romanced (which is more its own separate thing because within this psychology, actively wanting something and not just clinging on for dear life to even a meager status quo lest you lose it is in itself dangerous bordering on catastrophic), this is a relationship where there isn't resentment, or guilt, or shame, or dread, or rage, or self-hate, or any of the other emotions that keep him paralyzed, unable to move this way or that. no debts, nothing owed of yourself and your soul's substance except what you can freely and safely and happily give. love and freedom don't coexist — but, I mean, you're almost starting to make me think........... unless...👀👀👀. the unconditional and undramatic 'you are here and I am here with you, you can be exactly how you are right now with me and it's safe for us both even though you're afraid it won't be, I'm not going anywhere' acceptance rook shows him here that he returns to them in the big romance scene, when it's rook who needs it. the way he's just. standing there in the center of it all, like a child desperately helplessly waiting to be found, hiding in the place he hopes you'll know to look first. (rook does know. it's one of the first things they say in there.)

in short the most important room in his little mind palace for the romance is the very first room — the one where rook isn't. where, in fact, rook cannot be, because they disprove the entire structure of the place with their existence and presence in his life. with everyone else he's putting words in their mouths about what they think of him, and rook is the one who actually gets to come in to speak their own words to him — and have him listen. ('he'll listen to you, he always listens to you', 'your voice is a comfort'.) of course rook isn't present anywhere else in there — at the risk of stating the obvious to a tedious degree, they aren't one of the locks, they're bringing the key. in the very finest 'the messenger and the message' sort of way.

[vivwritesfics]

i desperately need more fratboy!lando

so if you don't already have any requests, could you write something where him and the reader is like studying and he's actually paying attention, but it's because he's touching her in some way? could be her thigh or just his arm touching hers. doesn't even have to be smut i'm just very needy for something with fratboy!lando 😔

18+, cockwarming, public stuff, pathetic lando

it was hard to study around lando. he was incredibly needy, you knew this going into it. you knew this from the time that you were just fucking.

but now you were in a relationship with him. you loved your needy boyfriend, until you started study. you know, when you needed to concentrate.

lando sat there quietly for maybe five minutes. you got some notes down, made some flashcards. he was sitting so quietly, so still you almost thought it wasn't him. just sitting beside her, tapping away at his phone.

but then lando got bored.

"baby," he whined and wrapped his arms around you. you tried to ignore him, tried to keep making flashcards to study with later. "baby, please," he tried again.

you rolled your eyes as you looked at him. "let me study, lan," you mumbled. a sad expression crossed his face and you shook your head at him, leaning in to kiss him.

he sat still for two more minutes. but then he was grabbing your hand, trying to get you to touch him in some way. it wasn't sexual, he just wanted to be close to you. annoyingly close.

you threw your pen down and stood up. "right," you said and took his hand, pulling him up. "sit," you said and pointed to the seat that you had just occupied. lando obeyed. he sat in your seat and looked up at you with wide eyes.

it was that usual pathetic expression he wore whenever he wanted something you weren't giving him. the puppy expression, you had named it. named so because he looked like a puppy waiting for its dinner.

you sat on his lap and freed him from his grey sweats. "baby," lando whispered, eyes wide as he looked from side to side. making sure that nobody in the library was watching. you pulled him from his underwear and turned in your seat, facing your flashcards yet again.

pushing your underwear to the side, you sank down onto him. lando released a sigh and sat back in the chair, his hands on your hips. "you gonna sit there and be quietly now?" you asked and lando nodded, dropping a kiss onto your shoulder.

touching you, being inside of you, was all lando needed. he sat there, hands on your hips, watching as you made notes on your flashcards.

towards the end of your study session, you sat back against him and wiggled your hips. lando groaned, tried to muffle his noises. "good boy," you said and patted his head.

he whimpered as you began packing up, rutting his hips against you. only slight movements, still keeping it hidden in the library. fuck, he couldn't wait to get you back to the frat house.

[kngrose]

do you not write for ambessa 👉🏻👈🏻? cuz your sevika headcanons are *chef’s kiss*

ambessa general headcanons 𝜗𝜚

WARNINGS: 18+, sexual content, implied voyeurism, body worship, oral, slapping, spanking, dacryphilia, implied age gap, slave/master if you squint, wlw!

prayers have been answered ^^

SFW

Come, come. Let's talk about it.

I don't think Ambessa strikes anyone as a lovely kind of person. Yes, she is incredibly charismatic, and might even be the love-bombing type, but Ambessa seems to clearly reserve "love" for those closest to her. Well, her version of it anyway.

She won't just walk around with her heart on her shoulder, she's a warrior for hell's sake. And we're all familiar with her opinions on becoming weak at the hands of love.

If you've managed to genuinely catch Ambessa's interest-- not just for her personal gain or a quick fuck-- then you've got a headache coming your way. Like, a migraine.

I want to really emphasize the love bombing because regardless of whether Ambessa is aware of it or not, the relationship will feel this way for a long time. There's a pattern. She's affectionate one day; showering you with praises and soft kisses, sunrise to sunset. You'll have to want for nothing. Gifts and trips, all treated to you by hers truly. Wining and dining, a good fuck. And though all of this is displayed in private, you'll be enamored. Which is exactly what she wants you to be.

And then, she'll be cold and standoffish. Uncaring of your presence or too busy to be bothered. When Ambessa handles business, there's no such thing as making time for you. You'll just have to pacify yourself until she's ready to be bothered with you again.

It'll take you a while to realize, but when you do you can't miss it; she's got an avoidant attachment. She wants to love you and to be loved, but the moment she receives it she's pulling away. She's looking for flaws in you, anything that'll convince herself that you're bad for her, to leave you where she found you.

Constantly creating exit strategies, thinking of petty little arguments to start for no reason, or an insecurity of yours to pick at. She was trained to fight, it's her strong suit in any sense. It's always easier for her to disconnect and dismiss her feelings than to just sit and talk it out. And you'll want nothing to do with her, which is also what she wants.

She just be losing the plot, I fear.

Unfortunately, cycles like this take time to break. Fortunately, she's not going to let you leave! So you have all the time in the world! <3

When you bring this to her knowledge, you'll really have to bring it. Sit her down and let her know she's not moving until she's heard every word that leaves your mouth, wagging a painted finger in her face. And she'll humor you because you've managed to make an impression with her.

She will sit, patiently and leisurely, man spread and all, watching you fuss her out throwing your hands every which way and yelling. And she will have the softest, fondest smile on her face. She'll know you love her at this moment.

She will let you say your piece without interruptions. In fact, she's so quiet that you have to question if she's even listening a few times. And when you catch sight of that little smile you just pause, dumbfounded. And she'll just humor your expression, urging you to continue with a curt wave of her hand.

After this occasion, Ambessa will be relentless. In her mind, anyone willing to fuss her out the way that you have must truly love her. So now, she knows no limits. In the past, Ambessa would have you stay put with some guards while she handled her day-to-day tasks. But now? You tag along with her everywhere.

In meetings, Ambessa has you perched on her lap. Touching you mindlessly as she discusses possible strategies and looks over speeches. Rubbing your thighs, your neck, your arms. You'll find it awkward at first--such a public display of affection-- but you'll have no choice but to get used to it.

She's hand-feeding you everything. Holding your cups to your lips, licking frosting off your mouth. It's a starch contrast to the dynamic your relationship used to have. But, you suppose you shouldn't be surprised at her shamelessness, she's always been a bit... eccentric.

And now, you don't even have to ask her to share her feelings, in fact, you have to tell her that some things are a little TMI because she wants to share everything with you. Everything. EVERYTHING.

Secrets don't exist, she's an open book. Whatever's on her mind, you're going to hear about it. Which in most cases, you can appreciate. She'll open up about her past and all of the things that have led her up to this point. She'll speak of her daughter, Mel, expressing a regret that she's never opened up to her about. And she'll talk about the effects you have on her personally.

These moments are heartwarming, cause it solidifies your bond.

Undoubtably, Ambessa is a very possessive woman. She's very adamant about expressing to everyone that you belong to her. Not necessarily in a verbal sense, but people will know. They'll know when they see the lingering touches she leaves, the elongated glances, the kisses. Again she's very shameless, so don't let these things take you by surprise.

She's also very protective. She does like to have you tag along with her everywhere, but every now and then she'll leave you with Rictus while she goes to handle more trying situations. You know, the ones where she may potentially commit a war crime or two.

She'd much rather you be locked away than have to protect you on the battlefield. Though she's positive you know of her capabilities, she wouldn't like to have you see her in that light regardless. She'll go to great, violent, bloody lengths to keep you safe.

Besides her shameless physical touch, Ambessa likes to show her love with flashy gifts and large bouquets of flowers. She likes to collect things from all the places she's been to gift to you; know that every time she's out, she thinks of what you might like to have.

She also likes to share knowledge. She finds that to be one of the biggest displays of love; sharing one's knowledge of the world and life. Things you can can learn from. She will really appreciate and admire the fact that you look up to her as a mentor, and especially loves it when you ask for her opinion or perspective. It shows that you rely on her.

And she likes to be relied on!

She has a tendency to just walk around naked, and not for any particular reason other than the fact that it’s, “Comfortable, sweet thing.” It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, if she has leisure time to waste, she’ll be naked. And she likes to be watched; “I worked hard for this body, honey..” She’ll say, flexing her arms at you.

She takes great pride in her form and in her strength. She likes to lift you up randomly just to showcase it. She’ll always pick you up when she hugs you, gripping your thighs loosely or not at all. You could honestly just hang onto her, dropping all of your weight. It wouldn’t make a difference.

She never fails to fluster you at any given chance. Every time you’re having a conversation she’s holding the strongest eye contact, chuckling to herself when you avoid her gaze. She'll randomly grip your chin, or caress your face. Sometimes twirling the hair by your ears. She likes to see you get all flustered because of her. It genuinely makes her day. That's why she does it so much.

She's old! Lol, you'll have to keep her updated with the new slang and terms of endearment. If you're someone who incorporates a lot of slang into your vocabulary, you'll often receive sideways glances of confusion before she stares at you and mutters, "...What?"

NSFW

I’m going to say it again; she’s shameless.

She has no qualms. Like, at all.

She loves to put on a show. She loves to be ogled at, it strokes her— already large enough— ego. More often than not, she’ll shove you down onto the bed, and with a calculated slowness, she’ll begin to undress, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. Her eyes always smoldering with a mix of passion and a touch of dominance.

And she’ll study you closely for your reaction, loving the look of pure awe on your face as she stands nude before you. Her voice, a low and husky murmur, would echo through the room, "See something you like, my dear?" and she’ll hum in approval at the soft, “Yes, Ma’am” she receives in return.

Ambessa appreciates a well mannered slut.

Most times, Ambessa will request that you massage her, all over. She loves it; It fulfills her desire to be worshipped. She loves to watch you take your time and rub every part of her, smirking down at you as you get lower and lower.

Ambessa will lean back slightly, her expression transitioning into a devilish smirk. Her free hand slowly tracing a path along the contours of your body. She watches you like a hawk, a smirk ever present on her lips.

When you start to kiss down her body a contented sigh will escape her lips. She’ll run her fingers through your hair, gently but firmly guiding your movements. Her head will tilt back, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. Each touch, each kiss, draws out a low and guttural sound from her throat, her desire evident in the way her body responds to your ministrations.

And the hand in your hair will tighten as she shoves your face in between her legs, a knowing glint in her eyes, “You know what to do.” And her body tenses as you start to eat her pussy, the hand in your hair tightening almost painfully as she groans.

She requires eye contact; she wants you to watch her come undone on your mouth. It’s like a reward, no? Watching the effect you have on her. She wouldn’t want you to miss the way she leans her head back, her hips rutting against your tongue at a steady pace, glancing down at you as she murmurs, “Good girl.”

And she won’t miss the hand that you trail down to your pussy, toying with yourself impatiently. A leisurely chuckle will fall from her lips, “Patience, Darling.” She’ll always say, pulling your hair to angle your head just right so she can fuck your face better. “Patience.”

And soon her breathing will turn shallow, Ambessa's grip on your hair impossibly intensifying, her fingers tangling in your locks as she guides your movements. Her control momentarily slips as she succumbs to the pleasure you're giving her.

And when she cums? She’ll pull your head back playing idly with the mess on your face, “Tsk… now you’re all dirty,” She’ll mutter, before leaning down and licking it off your chin. She’ll meet your lips in a sloppy mess of a kiss, groaning softly at the taste. And when she pulls back she’ll admire the look on your face, taking a mental photo of it. “Pretty…”

I think Ambessa would have a thing for teasing you. She likes to put you in uncomfortable positions. Make you put yourself on display in risky places. Loves touching you under tables. It just warms her core to see you so flustered, really riles her up. Especially so if you start crying, she’ll just squeeze your cheeks in her hand and snicker at you, “Ohhhh, you poor thing,” She’ll chuckle, and peck your puckered lips.

I already mentioned that Ambessa loves it when you’re well-mannered, it’ll quite literally get you anything your heart desires. You ask her nicely to make up cum? She’ll do it in a heartbeat. “With my mouth, or with my hands?” She’ll raise a brow, “Or with something else?” You use your manners with Ambessa like a good girl and she’ll be at your beck and call.

Laying you on your stomach softly to pull your ass in the air and eating your pussy until you squirt all over her mouth, and she won’t let a drop go to waste. She’ll trail her thick tongue from your clit all the way to your ass and back, over and over and over, circling the hole playfully before spitting onto it, the spit trailing back down. It’s truly a beautiful sight, she thinks.

Do you want her to fuck you with her fingers? They’re thick. You’ll hardly need two of them to satiate that churning in your core. Perhaps you want a massage of your own? Want her to suck on your pretty feet? Maybe you want her to talk you through your orgasm and praise you softly in your ear while you cum on her fingers? Everything all at once? No request is too far for Ambessa. She likes to worship her pretty thing; and loves to appreciate your body. Especially when it’s well deserved.

But when you’re ill mannered? Ambessa will show you exactly how she became a warlord.

Don’t expect any pleasure from this outcome. It’ll be hard. It’ll be brutal. And you’ll wish you’d never mouthed off at her the way you did. “What did we learn?” She’ll growl, above you, slapping your ass with a powerful force, “Quickly.” She’ll order.

And she’ll hum as you blubber loudly about being respectful, but her abuse will not stop. She will continue to keep you over her knee, slapping at your ass and thighs relentlessly. And when she’s done with that? She’ll have you on your knees, facing up at her with your hands folded politely over your lap. And you’d better pay extra attention to your posture or she’ll punish you for that too.

You’re never prepared for the swat to your cheek. “What are we not doing in the future?” She won’t falter at the cry that leaves your mouth, her gaze stone-cold and unwavering. She’ll swat your cheek again, slap, “I said, quickly.” And again, she won’t be moved by your blubbering until she’s satisfied-- until she believes you’ve learned a lesson.

And she’ll always be sure to pacify you until you’ve calmed down, offering you water and comfort, but still being stern enough that you remember your place the next time around. She’ll be sure to build you up just as she’s broken you down, affirming you gently. And you’ll fall back into her, blubbering your apologies.

She’ll conceal a smirk.

She loves to see you cry.

please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist to be notified everytime i post, xx

taglist: @opropheticsoul

[thegoogoomuckkk]

Can I get a smau about them finding out you were a jujitsu sorcerer? Like you’ve been dating 4 years and you just casually drop it out of nowhere. Like a REALL strong one too (stronger than SUKUNA strong) ps. Let me be delusional pls😍

secrets pt. 1 -> them finding out you're actually a jujutsu sorcerer -> choso kamo, kento nanami, kiyotaka ijichi, satoru gojo, suguru geto, takuma ino

ok, first of all: thank you for this phenomenal request!!!! I love fulfilling requests, regardless of what they are because I just love interacting with you guys & sharing my writing with y'all, but it's always so fun & amazing to get a request that I'm so genuinely excited to fulfill & that inspires me as a creator, so thank you!!!

secondly: I kind of took the request & ran with it. I had a hard time coming up with a solution to like, why would they not know about it if they were dating, like that's an odd secret to keep?? So I originally planned on making this a pre-relationship kind of situation, but I have such a hard time with that, I always feel like anytime I try to create something like that it's so cringey & forced, idk??? So I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you were asking for!

third: you'll notice the cast list for this smau is somewhat different than previous ones. I don't plan on keeping the same exact people or number of people in rotation for each post. When it comes to smau or writing in general, the last thing I want to do is force myself to create something. I typically don't add suguru to my smaus, but I felt like he really fit within this one & I had an idea for him. I didn't include any of the non-sorcerer characters because that made the most sense to me. In the future, if you'd like me to include a specific character (like suguru or sukuna, for example, who aren't in all of my smaus), just let me know; otherwise, it might be a mixed bag.

okay, fourth & final thing: this maybe only occurred to me, & if so, yay! but the whole time I was making this, I kept thinking that if this actually happened, they would probably never choose to have this conversation with you over text, & they'd probably have a much larger reaction. Those kinds of things are pretty difficult to capture in a 3-4 screenshot smau, if you know what I mean. Plus, angst is really not my bag at all; I wish it was & maybe I'll write more of it in the future, but not today.

xoxo, carlisle!

did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[touchstoneaf]

I've heard people say this before; that they discuss my stories on Discord servers and I'm like, "well, that would be nice to see". But I'm either not on that specific server because it is not relevant to my interests, or because I just don't really pay attention to Discord in general because I'm old and it confuses the hell out of me, hence I wouldn't know where to find the stuff either way. But I just don't understand why they wouldn't say these things in the place where they're reading the things. Like, a writer shouldn't have to go hunting for the comments that are made about their stories in some random place elsewhere in the ether.

I actually enjoy a relative plenty of comments, between two and five per chapter in my longest series, which is great engagement compared to some people's, because people are kind enough to say something to keep me rolling... but that's five out of generally the same 10 people commenting almost every single time, which means I'm kind of depending on them to keep me from feeling like I'm just shouting into the void (a lot of pressure on them). Meanwhile, I'm getting enough hits that if everybody who read each chapter commented I would probably have 30+ comments per chapter. Sometimes up to 100. That's rotten stats. It just doesn't make any sense to me.

Someone literally told me after reading the whole series up to now as a total specter that they couldn't bring themselves to comment until the 12th part of the series because they were scared to, for whatever reason. If people have been scaring y'all from commenting, I want to know who did that because that's ridiculous and does a disservice to everybody out here literally begging for engagement. Because the OPs are right; this is our currency in this world.

Fanfiction is motivated by community, by discussion, connection, by shared experience. We don't want to be throwing precious things into the vacuum and praying someone even notices... because we have no idea if anybody notices unless they tell us. Some of the best comments I've ever seen on any of my writing have been in the bookmarks. I just wish people would tell me what they do and don't like so that I can know that I'm not alone out there. Because other series get one or two comments per every four or five chapters, if that; and that's very hard to sustain out there on your own.

Please feed your authors if you actually want their productivity. And commenting "when is the next chapter going to be up?!" doesn't count.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika, Ambessa, Grayson

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them <3 (this is needed after the pain of act 3)

my masterlist

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[felassan]

David Gaider on Alistair, under a cut for length:

"Ah, Alistair. Depending on who you ask, he's the adorable woobie with the biggest heart or the irritating, over-used man-child. Yes, he is indeed all of those things. Good characters have flaws to go with their virtues. Ugly spots. That is literally their humanity. He was a bit of a bear to write, at the outset. James (Ohlen, the first creative director on DAO) had this idea he needed to be a grizzled Warden veteran - older, distrusting. Everyone hated him instantly. I call this the Carth Onasi Problem, and suggested to James that maybe I try something else. My observation says that the characters who are generally liked the most are the supportive ones. Enthusiastic. Funny? Sometimes, sure, but that's *not* required. I need to digress. See, at the time James had this (regrettable) period where he believed everything could be derived from a formula. He even sold this idea to the founders, Ray and Greg. Google 'BioWare formula'. Anyway, how this relates is because James thought the DAO cast needed a Minsc: a comedy character who would become super popular and, ideally, the icon of DA. "Isn't that Alistair?" you ask. "Arguable," I say, "but no." James had me to up a huge list of 'comedic archetypes' and I wrote some possible dialogue for each one. Then he had the team vote. The winning archetype? The Buffoon - like Homer Simpson or Peter Griffin. James was pleased. I was not. "The problem," I said, "is I don't find the Buffoon funny." 😅"

""But you're a professional." "Sure, I *can* write him... but comedy isn't science. I need to find him funny. If I write him, the only comedy I'll mine is where he makes fun of himself." James took that on board and then passed the character onto someone else. The result? Oghren. I rest my case. So back to the supportive character: that was my thought for a new Alistair. It was a special case, after all - the DAO PC was thrust into a terrible situation. They needed someone who had their back. A bud. A *likeable* bud. I was watching Buffy at the time, and my thoughts drifted towards Xander. Now, I know Joss Whedon is persona non grata these days, but this was 2006, OK? I was watching Buffy and thought, "man, Xander is such a wasted character" and considered how to fix him. Then I realized this might work for Alistair. Plus, I wanted to see if I could replicate the Whedon vocal patter. That was the new Alistair: a more useful and likeable yet equally dorky version of Xander. We had very strict rules in DA about language: no modern speech styles, colloquialisms, any words that came into use in our world after 1900 got severe side eye... but Alistair? Alistair got a blanket pass. Was it great that the lead writer's leading man got to break the rules? I guess not, but it's my opinion that you can break those kinds of rules - selectively, in small doses. Too much and you break the illusion. And it worked. Alistair was an instant hit. Not just with the team, but with the fans."

"Confession time? Yes, I knew Goldanna wasn't meant to be Alistair's mother. But neither was Fiona, originally. I think fans caught wind of some revisionism at work, and OK it's true. I had a more Arthurian idea for his birth but I stopped liking it... yet not soon enough to go back and make edits. Should I have just left it be, left Goldanna as his mother? Maybe. It was one of those writer things I just couldn't let go of and I probably could have used someone to sit me down and go "Gaider, please. Just stop." I still like Fiona, and where I took it. But I probably shouldn't have gone there. Casting Alistair was SUCH a chore. He required a weird mix of devilish charm, but with enough sincerity and adorkableness it didn't come off as smarmy. Every audition went full smarm... until Steve Valentine up and appeared out of nowhere. In the midst of a batch of audition files, there he was. We brought Steve in "just to try out", and he pulled it off. Even the "frog time" line, which (seriously) nobody else could. And when he got to the romantic lines, Steve's voice turned into pure butter without, again, sliding into "oh, he's slightly creepy". Both Caroline and I were sold. And he was so gloriously easy to write. It's a well I'd probably return to... a bit too often, maybe? Maric, then Anders in Awakening, and then Alistair kept popping up in future games and the comics because, yes, he was pretty much the breakout comedy character of DA. Which still makes me happy. 😁 CORRECTION: Goldanna was someone Alistair thought was his *sister*, and her mother his mother. Look, it was almost twenty years ago, OK? 😅 --- I actually had a whole scene written in DAI where Fiona tells him, but the requirements were so specific for them both to be in Skyhold and it seemed like it'd be relevant only to a small small sub-section of fans (and confusing to everyone else) so it was dropped. Rightfully so, I guess."

[source thread]

User: "The Buffy vibes were strong in DAO and I was very happy with that at the time. What I loved about DAO was the mix of dark themes entwined with bits of levity. That's how I like my angst. Dark, broody with a side of ha-has and y'all delivered in DAO for sure." David Gaider: "That's a me thing. I like going dark - really dark - and then pairing it with light, comedic moments. It provides peaks and valleys in the tone, and prevents either from becoming overwhelming. Hey if it worked for Shakespeare (alas, poor Yorrick), it can work for DA, right? 😉" [source]

[mxrcielaguito]

Oh boi, I've been wanting to write Elliott x Farmer for a while so here we go:

Based off one of the comments of the original post

"I would suggest we make time for a little 'rendezvous' in my old cabin... But I'm afraid it's become rather... Musty... In my absence" Elliott says. I'd like to think he's being playful but I can't really tell. His words are mischievous but his eyes seem melancholic. I mean, well, he writes angsty stuff all the time, why would this be any different, he loves feeling melancholic. He's an overemotional drama queen, and that's pretty much why I fell for him in the first place. But something's off today.

I look at him, up and down. Wouldn't be the first time we escape a social gathering and make time for ourselves. I work relentlessly. He writes relentlessly. Our kids mess around the house relentlessly, too.

"Why not?" I suggest. "It's not like anyone's paying attention."

His green eyes widen, his face blushes for just an instant and I recognize his look. He bites his lower lip, grabs my arm and pulls me into the cabin so quickly I can't even react. As soon as I step into the cabin I understand what he meant by "musty". The air feels heavy, humid, and the wood is starting to decay. His old piano is still there; withering away.

He locks the door behind us and I can already feel his heavy breath. I can't help but find it cute. It's been three years and he still gets all hot and bothered. He's turning his back on me, his hand still on the door knob.

"Elliott? Are you all right?" I ask.

"I have really neglected this place, haven't I..." He murmurs. "It's- it's not romantic at all, I-..."

"Love, it's okay, I don't mind" I try to reassure him, rubbing his back. Something's wrong but I'm not can't put my finger on it. "It's been quite some time since the last time you came here, huh."

Elliott laughs nervously and forces himself to let go of the door knob. He turns around and looks at his cabin, his eyes scanning every corner.

"I really used to live like this, didn't I?"

"I didn't know this place brought you bad memories", I say, my voice soft, almost a whisper. I know we don't talk much; my words are usually rather scarce, I can't remember the last time we sat and spoke to each other. I'd rather listen, but Elliott doesn't speak too much, either.

He runs a hand through his copper hair.

"Once upon a time, there lived a man by the sea..." Elliott speaks quietly, absently. "He dreamed of fame and greatness; he dreamed of people remembering his name. However, that day never came, and his little cabin by the sea, he let it rot away."

I frown, trying to make a meaning off of this.

"My father bought this cabin a long time ago, we used to have our vacation here, when I was a kid. With time I guess we all forgot about it, then I remembered it when he kicked me out."

My eyes widen.

"He... Kicked you out? Why am I learning about this just now?!"

"Well, he wasn't happy when I said I wasn't pursuing a career in the family business." Elliott runs his hand through the dusty desk, then fidgets around with an old inkwell. The ink has been dry for a very long time. "I didn't have much money. I was running out when I met you."

"That part, I remember, yeah", I reply.

"It's not that this cabin holds bad memories, as you said. It just a reminder of almost everything that hasn't worked out in my life. All the scrapped manuscripts. All the arguing with my father. All the times I stayed up late, trying to come up with the perfect plot, the perfect words, the perfect... Everything" he closes his eyes and sighs. I look at him and take his hand in mine. I love it: it's so soft. "And then, one day, you showed up and took care of that old farm nobody cared about. And you took care of me..."

He leans his head over mine. His hair tickles my nose, and it smells like pomegranate shampoo.

"I can take care of this place, too" I suggest, trying to cheer him up. "Just like I did with the farm."

"No, no. This place is mine to bear, not yours. However I would like to take your example and make this old place something worth the effort. Something out kids will be happy inheriting."

I look up at him and smile.

"Yeah? You wanna do that?"

Elliott smiles and nods. I feel his hand make its way through my eternally sore back to my waist. I rest my hand on his, fidgeting with his wedding ring.

"It's not that musty", I tease, after a very long silence. "The bed's still in good shape."

When you're just trying to make some goddamn soup but Elliott wants to have sex in his mouldy ass cabin.

[quantum1mmortality]

The crew & using toys on their S/O in bed please with a cherry on top??

First time writing the whole crew kinda nervous 🤭🤭 I'm not writing Swansea tho I will NOT be writing nsfw of a married man

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, winners love winning in Anyas hcs (use of the term pillow princess), jorkinit jumpscare

Not proofread

Curly

I'm actually not sure if he'd be into toys

I've literally only written for Curly so I'd say I'm a Curly expert, and I just don't think he'd be into toys

He'd use a vibrator on you every now and then, but he'd just use it to tease you and make you beg for him.

He'd probably use cock rings. I am a firm believer Curly would use cock rings. Not all the time, but if he's had a really stressful day at work, he's wanting an extra hard hitting orgasm.

Omg not a toy but APHRODISIACS!!! This man would go crazy for some aphrodisiacs, whether he's taking it or you are.

Now I wanna write a wedding night one shot with Curly and aphrodisiacs thanks a lot anon 😔😔😔 I've got enough shit to write already

Anya

I don't care what any of you say this woman is a pillow princess

YOU'D be using toys on HER

She'd also be a cryer but that's not the point

She'd have a drawer dedicated to sex toys. She's trying to get into med school, she's CONSTANTLY stressed, how else is she supposed to release some of that stress? Don't judge her.

She wouldn't be into straps or dildos, she'd be into shit that vibrates. Vibrators obviously, rose toys, anything that stimulates the clit honestly

I lied she is into dildos this woman is a sucker for a RABBIT!!! Like I said, if it vibrates, she wants it.

Her favorite combo is the rose toy/vibrator + pussy licking. She cums so fast, then gets embarrassed, then begs for more. Praise her a bunch and she'll be able to go a few more rounds

BONUS CONTENT!!; she has a Christina and Princess Albertina, no further comments

Daisuke

Oh yeah, he's using toys.

He has a tongue piercing and sometimes he'll swap it out for a bar that vibrates but y'all aren't ready for that convo

He's gonna use the basic toys, nothing we haven't gone over yet. Vibrators, rose toys, cock rings, ect. He's just trying to figure out what he likes for right now, and he likes all of them

In missionary, he'd hold either a vibrator or rose up to your clit while he fucks you. Kind of uncomfortable as a position, but if it gets you off, it's worth it to him.

Not sure if this is considered a toy but he'd be interested in sounding. He's definitely had you try it on him once or twice, and he never lasts for more than a minute 😭 poor boy

He's just trying new things out. He's new to having a committed relationship, so anything you'd be into, he'd be willing to try. He'd let you peg him if you wanted, but don't ask me to write that.

My pegging days are over

Jonathan

The kinkiest cunt that ever cursed this god forsaken ship

Toys are a must have for him. On you, not him. He only likes using them on you, because it gives him a sense of power over you.

He'd be one of those assholes that would put a bluetooth vibrator in your panties and wait till you're in public to turn it on the highest setting. Like an asshole

Jizzdaddy would have a lot of toys. He'd have one of those robotic dildo setups that like.. idk does the thrusting how the fuck do I explain this????

You guys get what I mean if you've ever been on a porn site you've seen one

Anyway, he'd have one of those setups and watch it fuck you. Ass up, head down, grasping at whatever you could since HIS sadistic ass turned it up to the highest speed.

Eventually hed get pissed off and fuck you himself, claiming that you love the toy more than you love him 😔 the allegations are true but he doesn't have to know that

He'd also use plugs on you. In public, too. He doesn't care. If you humiliate yourself, that's your fault, not his.

vibrators are used during sex, nothing new. But it's the same situation as before. Claiming you love the toy more than him, so he stops using it.

Sometimes he'll just give in though and decide he doesn't care, and wants to tease you more than anything. Highest speed it can go, or the slowest. No in-between. He'll have you begging one way or another.

Chat I hate writing rough characters someone request ooc soft Joshua hcs so I can write him like I do Curly 🙏🙏🙏

A/N; Anya makes me wanna kiss girls

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[thaliaoftheastralclocktower]

Yeah, that's my one big criticism of Arcane: Piltover got off too easy. Blaming Cait in isolation is too easy. The entirety of Piltover was ready to immediately switch into fascism. Everyone in the room was 100% on board. Even the Noxus people seemed a bit taken back at how easy it was (Noxus is evil, don't get me wrong, but at least they are no bigots). Cait calling the people of Zaun animals is just her parroting what everyone in her social circle had been saying all her life. Going to default in a high stress situation is not something I'd call a major individual flaw.

Do you know who actually deserves blame? Jayce. He didn't grow up surrounded by fascists. He had a fairly normal life once he got to Piltover, experienced some real hardship, was best friends with a Zaunite for many years, and when given the chance he pretty much immediately did things just as bad as Cait, if not worse. You think Cait taking the risk to hit Isha was bad, when she's the best sniper in the entire city equipped with a high precision rifle? Jayce, without any training, shot at multiple child workers with a weapon that can be best categorised as a semi-automatic rocket launcher.

Also, can we talk about how Vi just straight up joined in on the police brutality and chemical warfare? It took barely any convincing. In fact she was the one who took Jayce into Zaun to attack those factories and when Jayce was terrified as to what they had done her answer was just: "it is what it is, deal with it." Vi is probably the best character to show how problematic this show can be at times. Her being from Zaun and joining in on Piltover's actions basically absolves Piltover from all crimes. She wore the uniform of her oppressors. She only stopped when it came to her own sister. I don't even blame the character, at this point it's on the writers. The show itself seems horny for this behavioural aesthetic. Writing in terms of relationships? Absolutely amazing. Writing in terms of politics? At times extremely problematic. Piltover never properly apologized for what they did. The word "reparations" wasn't mentioned once.

"it's her blood in your veins" is so essentialist. You know how oppressors categorize the people they oppress as less than them, as animals? This is textbook fascism, which is actually fascinating regarding Caitlyn's arc.

She was born in a very wealthy and influential family in position of power which allowed her to exercise a certain care-free, almost naive desire to see the world, just like a child whose presented with toys. I do not doubt for a second she thinks the people of Zaun suffered because of the society she is a product of, Vi is the perfect example of "you are not like them", which in season 1 was the cataclysm to her empathy, and indubitably the crumbling of any shred of compassion the moment she is personally attacked.

Her mother died, which is atrocious, but countless mothers died in Zaun against Piltover and the complete disregard it had towards Zaun's population. How many mothers died by enforcers? By chemicals' exposure? How many little girls lost their mom?

Caitlyn grief is emblazoned and coated in the privilege she was born into, reinforcing the idea she grew up with, that people of Zaun will not hesitate to eat her alive if they could, that's why she violently rejects Vi. They are all the same, it's in their nature. Caitlyn's anguish is in part grounded in discrimination.