#i know this is shitty written but i didn't write that much in months

[fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme]

This is so choppy and weird I'm sorry

Imagine if you will Steve, Robin and Eddie at some concert, waiting infront of the location to be let in.

Steve and Robin went together, knowing that Eddie will be there too. Eddie and Steve are in the very beginnings of something but despite Steve being usually super confident in his flirting, he wasn't confident enough to put the moves on Eddie yet.

By the time Steve and Robin arrive at the concert location Steve has already decided to elevate his confidence with some beer and weed so now he's in his giggly, loopy mode and Robin already had it.

Eddie is already there with his guys by the time the other two arrive but he is also not confident enough to approach Steve alone, so he just awkwardly steals some glances towards where he and Robin stand around. He sees Steve whisper something to Robin, while pointing at him and almost has a heartattack when Robin walks over.

"Okay so I am not entirely sure what dingus over there said but he either wanted me to hit you or hit on you, so I am going to do the first one" she says with a light punch to a very confused Eddies arm.

Eddie just awkwardly laughs and waves Steve over to them as well. Steve follows on wobbly legs and falls into another fit of giggles when he almost knocks over Robin. Eddie has already heard of the infamous giggly Steve but witnessing it in person is a hole new level. He is absolutely enamoured.

Within a few minutes Robin and Steve are sitting next to Eddie and his friends on the floor, Robin chatting with the guys and Steve...well Steve decided to flirt.

Unfortunately the only thing his drunk fuzzy brain can come up with is trying to give Eddie a wet willie as an excuse to be close to him. So now Eddie has to deal with a giggly drunk Steve constantly poking his spit wet finger into his ear (failing to actually hit his ear 80% of the time because he's that drunk) and he can't even be mad because Steve looks just way too cute like that.

So Eddie endures the poking attacks on his face, neck, arm, literally anywhere Steve can reach and once he has enough liquid courage himself dares to bite Steve's finger hovering infront of his face. To Eddie's delight that makes his opponent blush like crazy (he ignores Jeff and Grant pointing out that he's blushing as well).

So as the night goes on the two of them are stuck in a poke/biting war and basically all over each other even during the concert. It eventually evolves into sneaking a kiss onto whatever part of the other is closest. Gareth and Robin yell at them to just get a room already to wich Steve simply responds: "Yeah I'm planning on that".

They do get into a room but only with much help of Robin and the Corroded Coffin guys because by now they're both giggly drunk/high messes who can barely walk straight (ha!). Their poking/biting/smooching war goes on the entire way back to Robin & Steve's appartment and when they finally fall into Steve's bed still giggling they manage to sneak an actual kiss on the lips despite being uncoordinated as fuck. After that they're both out like a light and Robin doesn't have to get out her earplugs much to her delight.

They do talk about it all when they wake up all tangled together, still in sweaty beer soaked clothes from the night before and laughing about how stupid their drunk selves decided to flirt.

And when someone asks months later why Steve gives Eddie a wet willie with the fondest look ever on his face, Robin just sighs and tells the story of her dingus and dork and how that became their love language.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: noncon hinted, hinted somno, creampies, sexual fantasies, masturbation, fem! afab reader, forced impregnation, stalker behavior, dead dove do not eat

MDNI.

It rained today; it had rained the day before as well. But today was different - at least, for Simon it was. The usual scent of cigarette the reeked around the neighborhood was washed away by the sweet, fresh fragrance of rain. He couldn't fucking sleep for the life of him, too accustomed to his shitty, inflexible work schedule. Sleep for three hours, wake up, report in, missions, come back, standing duty, work out. It was a filthy, scrambled jumble of a schedule that made his brain hurt.

His only luxury was the reservation of his civilian life.

Didn't socialize. Hell, he barely even glanced at someone's face for longer than a few seconds - didn't need to. He had already memorized their features for as long as he deemed important. Which is how he got to finding you.

You, his pretty little neighbor. You were all too fucking sweet for a bastard like him to have such possessive fantasies about. Spend the day time outside, tending to a garden, barbequing, reading a book while bathing in the sun. Your reading glasses were a cute look for you, as was everything else.

And in the evening, when you got to cooking, you'd prop open your kitchen window and let the food cool down. The sound of your dishes being scrubbed could be heard from his own yard - it's not eavesdropping if you're so got damn loud, darling. You yammer to your friend about life, work, the bullshit you experience and the guy who tried to get in your pants last week.

Oh, a pretty thing like you doesn't deserve to tell such vulgar stories. And Simon knows it's wrong to listen. He really does have morals, and respect, and chivalry. Sure, it's hard to prove that when he's fisting his hung cock. Muffling his grunts with sucks of air and shaky exhales.

Your laugh makes his cock twitch, and your sweet little "Mhmm"s make his tip leak with bitter tasting pre. He's sure he'd taste awful, splattered in your mouth. He was sure that you were spoilt on the delicacy meals you'd make in your kitchen. Simon wouldn't force you to endure something so cruel. He'd let his cream fill your cunt, holding your hand while you cry through your orgasm, because he is a gentleman.

Realistically, Simon probably couldn't last long. Especially given the way he busted in his pants the one time you came over to the fence, leaning over it with a hop on your ladder. Gave him a great view of your tits, something you had to be aware of as you begged him to give you some of the oranges from his tree.

'Course, he complied, who was he to reject his sweet little thing?

But love, when you initiate something like that, don't be surprised when the creep at your work randomly disappears. And when you wake up to the window you left open last night closed shut, and your panties full of a sticky white liquid. If they were even still on, you'd be lucky to have some dirty panties left.

You figured, you were a sleep walker. So innocent you are. Go to the doctor about all the "discharge" leaking out of you, not even questioning the throb against your cervix and imagining they were just some cramps from an upcoming period. One that never would come. And only when he hears you sobbing while waiting for one of your pies to cool down will he approach, very sweetly asking what's wrong. Leaning by your window well you break the news to him. You're gonna be a mother, and you don't even know the father. You've been abstinent for months!

Much to your surprise, your neighbor, generously offers to help. Because baby, he gets those combat paychecks; money isn't an issue for him. Simon would generously help you, from the bottom of his heart, with no ill intent, of course.

The military offered great family benefits, after all.

ahh </3 I haven't written in so long :T

anyways i wanted to try writing somno stuff because why not.

[naybii]

𝓞r 𝓷ah ?

CW: mentions of toxic relationship, forgiveness,mentions of past sex experiences (drunk sex), breast/nipple play, Pet names (gorgeous,good girl,my lady, etc.), cunnilingus, face sitting, unprotected sex (wrap your Willie’s, don’t be silly), consent - (non consensual sex is not valid at all.), reader getting called a slut 1x, squirting, creampies (if there’s more. Tell me.)

A/n: I’m Still in writers block, so if I end up liking it I’ll post it. If not. Then I’m not gonna post this story until I can write an actual good story. Idk thought. I gave up on Freak-tober so Idek if I’ll catch up. This writing style is new and I don’t release that much story’s since I need to improve on my writing.. but if you have advice. Ty :33 I just realized that when you try to enter for a new paragraph with an already written one. It deletes it. It’s so fucking annoying. This is NOT. Proof read and this is an old smut fic, I am so sorry. This might be a little shitty..💔

- the following story does Hold Explicit Content, if you’re a minor please proceed w/ caution -

Synopsis: in the night in Seoul, South Korea. You were at this club. Not very crowded which works with you, you were drinking some alcohol, washing your throat down with it. You were having a good time, listening to the Music that the DJ had been playing. It was gonna be a good night. Though, while you were drinking there was a shadow right above you. Like any other person, you looked up and your night was immediately ruined. Why is he here? And what will happen?

“I finally Found you.” The Black-haired male said. A subtle smirk emerged on his face, you wanted to slap that Look off of him. He’s messed you up enough, why even bother with him? He was such an asshole. he would prioritize himself before you. Which annoyed you. And got in arguments with you, a lot of times. So you had the right to not like him, right?

“San, please get out of my face. I Don't Want to Talk to you.” you tried to be polite to him, not wanting to spark a stupid argument in public. Especially because he will make sure everyone knows that he's the ‘victim’ it had always been like that during your relationship. Oh, you got hit by San, his excuse? ‘She was putting me in danger!’ it was the same thing over and over again. “Oh please y/n, I was the victim in this relationship. You made me feel unloved. I believe I had a right to treat you badly. And besides. Maybe it wouldn't have been like this if you had tried harder to make me happy.” he said boldly. Is he hearing himself?

The audacity for him to say such a stupid comment. “Excuse you? So you’re telling me. If I tried Harder to make you happy, I had to throw my whole life away and act like nothing mattered but you?” You Were Offended, the audacity from him the waltz in and throw your Rocky relationship’s blame on you? “Oh please, y/n. I was the best thing that happened to you. Besides I did do you pretty good in bed.” He added to his already Cocky comment. He cleared his throat and chuckled at you. “Who am I kidding? I make every woman who Im with good.” yeah that's it, your gonna punch that motherfucker in the stomach.

“Quit talking about that San, I don't care about what your stats are with people in your bed. That doesn't mean shit. And no? You weren't the best thing that's happened to me. You're being so cocky and it's so repetitive and annoying, the best thing that has happened to me was leaving you.” you retorted. Who does he think he is? “Come on y/n, don't act like you're some saint too.” he pursed his lips. “That's not what you were saying 1 month ago. Either.” that was right. You had hooked up with him while you two were drunk. It was consensual and protected, but it was still a regret of yours. How could you be so desperate?

“That was a month ago, dipshit. By the way. I didn't say anything.” you said confidently. You remembered about the sex. But not About the words or actions. “Let me recap it for you gorgeous, I had asked You ‘Who’s is it?’ and you immediately said, ‘this pussy is yours.’ so it Still is mine, gorgeous.” your jaw Slacked. Wait, what? You don't remember any of that. Of course, you had forgotten. “It was in the heat of the moment, San. I didn't mean it.” you excused yourself. Though you knew damn well you meant everything you had said.

“So, you think I can still have what’s mine?” he asked out of nowhere. It was a Turn-on. Not because it was San. Actually it was because it’s San, but because his straightforwardness was Attractive and enticing to you. “Oh fuck you, San.” you rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, fuck me.”San said back, snickering. Staring at your ass While you were grabbing your purse, Taking his hand that he had held out in front of you. That hand had quickly snaked to your waist.

That whole way to his apartment, you and San had talked it out. It wasn’t that easy to do since there was some wrongs that both sides of the parties had done. But you guys had ended up talking about it like adults. “I want to apologize, I don’t want to come with any excuses and I just want to start fresh alright? I don’t. Exactly expect you to forgive me instantly since I had messed you up.” You Just listened to him Speak and ramble about, you smiled and Hugged him while you to were walking. “It’s Alright, at least you had acknowledged your wrongs. And I do too.” You glanced over at him. You guys were coming up to this Tall and bougie looking building. You had Assumed it was his apartment complex. Since i mean, he was wealthy and responsible with money.

You guys finally made it to Sans's luxury apartment complex which was around 5 minutes from the club. He rang up the elevator, pressing the button which calls the elevator, he heard the little ping! And the elevator doors swiftly opened, He had made sure you had gotten in first and stepped into the elevator after you. It took a good 20 seconds to get to his floor, the door Sliding open. He grabbed your hand and led you to his Apartments front door. Grabbing the keys, fiddling with it until he got to the right key to open his Door. He placed the key into the keyhole, turning the keys and the door clicked open. Walking you into his humble apartment.

“Welcome home, my lady.” He introduced you to his apartment. It was so much different than the one when you two were together. “Woah.” You said. It was a lot bigger from the outside, but you weren’t complaining. It was clean and Modern apartment. A living room, a 8x8 bathroom. And the bedroom was Clean and comfy looking. “I’m surprised you actually clean it.” You made fun of him. “Well excuse you, y/n. And yes. I do clean it regularly! So don’t doubt in me.” He frowned. And then smiled.

“You need anything to drink, gorgeous?” He asked you, that hot ass smirk on his face. It was Always doing something to you. “No thank you, actually. Yes, just water.” You corrected yourself. “Alright, one water coming up for my lady.” He said so barista-like. “One cup of water for y/n!” He was Sometimes so wholesome. That’s what You genuinely liked about him. “Thank you for my Little order.” You took the water from his hand. “I’m still getting my payment, right?” He Smiled slyly. “Yes, yes you are.” You Sipped on the water, leaving a lipstick mark on the cup. You placed the empty glass onto the marble counter. “Now, can I get that payment?” He asked you in a whisper like tone.

“Yes,San. Yes.” You rolled your eyes in play-annoyance. Come here already then. “Gladly, my lady.” He walked over to you, then swiftly got you off the stool. He placed you onto the Countertop. And stepped back. Taking a look at you, practically undressing you with his eyes. He walked over to you and undid the dress, moving the zipper down your dress, trying to get you out of your pretty dress. “Let’s get you out of these, my love.” He murmured against your neck. Sending a shiver down your Spine. He looked over at you and smiled. “Raise your hips. And there we go.” You complied with him, raising your hips. He slid the dress off your thighs. Letting it fall onto the ground.

“My god.” He murmured, looking at your Beautiful lingerie, was he Infatuated with you. “Red and black Lingerie,huh?” He asked you. Then taking a good look at you. Fuck, the urge, he has the urge to take a photo of you in that Lingerie, fuck you looked sexy.. his Boner quickly Awoke, Before clearing his throat, not wanting to think with His dick, but.. come on. “Is it alright if I take a photo of you In this… god..sexy Outfit?” he asked You Politely, before You gave him the okay. With him Getting permission, he Takes His phone out, before snapping a picture of your beautiful body. “ ‘mazing sweetheart.” He had that Sly Smirk. Fuck it was hot!

“Let’s take this off now.” He muttered as he got to you, his breath hitting your face as he unclasped Your bra. Then sliding it off and letting that fall to the floor too, your Breasts came out of its confines, slightly jiggling from the Tightness of the bra, that was now off, he Looked into your eyes, waiting for you to say something. “I’m okay with you touching me, San.” He nodded, humming in content and then bringing his hand to your breast, And massaging it, kneading it in his right hand and the other with his left, you Were liking the free no-charge. Massage and You sigh. “That feels good.” You hummed, relaxing yourself. “Let’s see if we can get you to Make some noises, yeah?” He Smiled and Took one tit into his mouth, savoring it then sucking onto it glancing up to you, making sure you were okay. “Oh fuck San.” His face just made this all Hotter, yeah, you were absolutely Turned on.

“You like that ,dear?” He Asked you in a slow and seductive manner. Then swirling his Tounge around your Nipple. The other one hardening in an instant. He pulled away and Started to Roll the Sensitive bud between his index and thumb. You arch your back, raising your hips off the Counter. Letting out a series of Soft moans, and he hadn’t Even Penetrated you yet. You might Just cum, untouched. without Even being Fucked. You pursed your lip. “G-God San. Slow down.” You breathe out. He chuckled softly. Continuing to stimulate your Sensitive Bud. “I’m enjoying this, a lot. And your body is telling me so too.” He pointed out your Damp spot on the front of your underwear. “Fuck,that was on accident.” He could obviously see through your blatant lie. “Riiight. “Accident” hm?” He said in air quotes since he knew you so well, that was not on accident.

“Okay. Well maybe it wasn’t on accident, but you turned me on. So is that really my fault san?” You Replied back. “No, it’s not,pretty girl. Just wondering why you said it was an accident.” He glanced over at you. “Be a Good girl and take your underwear off for me.” He demanded and smiled at you. Seeing you from his peripheral, lifting your hips and Shimmying your Hips and legs. Your Underwear falling onto the floor with all of your other clothes. “That’s some pretty legs. Open those legs for me, pretty girl,” you Nodded and immediately opened your legs. Letting San have a look at your pretty Dripping cunt. “You’re soaked, did I turn you on that much?” He Asked you with a Grin on his face. I’m gonna carry you to the Bedroom, is that alright?” He glanced from your pussy to your face. “Yeah, go ahead.” He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, your ass up in the air. And god, was he strong. “You’re strong, sannie.” You told him. Making him chuckle. “I know what I am, m’lady.” He was so damn cocky. But that’s another attractive thing about him. He opens his door with one hand, then door letting a soft click. He walked into the room, throwing you onto his bed. You let out a Yelp and He closes the door. “I need you to sit on my face so damn bad y/n.” He pleaded. His bulge visible in his pants.

“Then come over here and lay down.” He could hear the smile in your voice. He walked over to the bed and laid down. “I haven’t had dinner so consider you, my dinner.” He smiled, looking at you. “You need help with getting on my face?” He asked you, grinning. “No.” You said sharply, you Shifted on the bed. Getting above his face, straddling his Head, giving him a Good and clear view. You Lower yourself down. And He grabbed your hips, reflexively. Sitting you above his face. His Tounge darting out to taste your Sweet juices. Having your Hands Supporting You, on the headboard. You let out a soft sigh. “Fuck, San.” You Mewl. He Continued to move his tongue through your Folds, the Sounds of explicit Slurping and Squelching Echoed around his rooms align with your moans. “Oh shit, San!” You threw your head back. Grabbing onto his jet black hair. “You’re eating me out So good.” You praised. Riding his face, his Nose stimulating your Clit. You Bit your lip. Riding his Face. And Stuffing it right in his face.

“God, oh my god San.” You Cursed. You already Feel yourself close to cumming. His Tounge was working it’s damn Magic. Flicking against your folds, then Slipping it into your Sweet Pussy, slurping all of the juices. Man were you sweet as hell. “San I’m gonna Cum..” You warned him. He had you ride his face. “Fuck, right there. Oh my goshh.. please..” The combination of pleasure from His nose and tounge was Scrumptious.. and You Started To whimper against your lips. The bed squeaking. “Holy shit I’m cumming!” You Squeal, then Letting go. Grunting and Stiffening. You cried out in pleasure. Shaking uncontrollably as he’s still Eating you out. “Fuck! San please stop!” You go off him. Seeing his face clearly Some cum on his nose and mouth. Dripping down his chin. He sat up and Murmured. Turning you around “Let’s have you taste yourself.” He kissed you. Having you Taste yourself on his Tongue. “Good girl.” He cooed. He got up trying to clearly get his pants off. he Unbuttoned his pants. Fiddling with the zipper. Before laying you down.

“I’m collecting what’s mine.” He Said. Then slipping his Pants Off. you could clearly see the out-line of his cock, through his boxer-briefs. He Slides that off too. His cock coming out stiff, his red, swollen cock head dripping pre-cum. He walked over to you, then positioned you so your legs were Spread open. And facing him. He smirked slyly. And grabbed your hips. Mushroom-tip prodding against your welcoming entrance. “Oh fuck San.” You threw your head back. Before kissing him. “Aww what’s wrong? Is this the first time in forever since you’ve had Dick in you you little Fucking slut?” He murmured Those words into your ear before You Let out a shaken moan.

“Yes, San.. it’s been forever..” you nodded, before He Kissed your Lips. Shutting you up. Before he teasingly Entered the head of his cock in your tight pussy. before You whine for him to put the whole thing in. Before he nodded and slowly pushed Into your Eager and tight Pussy. Before you both let out a Loud moan. “Fuck, y/n your Tight Pussy is so fuckin’ warm and snug.. it’s like it’s made just for my dick.” He thrusted in you, your legs impulsively wrapping his waist, Before he Chuckled. “Don’t want me to move out, hm?” He whispered with a hushed voice. “Fuck, San. faster..” you mewled before He began to slap his hips into you. “Oh shit !” You Moaned out. Tears in your eyes. “San please.. oh fuck !! I’m gonna Squirt around your Fucking cock..” you warned before He Grabbed your shoulders and Slammed into you repeatedly, hitting the Sweet spot in your nice gummy walls, making you see stars before You felt the String in your tummy go snap. Before Your eyes Immediately roll back. a rush of Liquid Gushing out of your pussy and around Sans Cock. You cried Out in Utter pleasure, San then Looked at you while it just kept Coming out. Still pounding you. And He Looked So enamored and Happy. Before He let out a Grunt and murmured. “I’m cumming..” Before he Relentlessly Slammed his hips into yours like his life depends upon it leaving your sensitive Pussy put the Work in, he let out a loud moan. His hips stuttering and Finally Cumming in you, leaving a Mess. He Plopped down onto you. not bothering to pull out while having you in his Arms. panting and Shaking. he kissed your head tenderly. “You did amazing, babe. take Some Rest, my baby.” He said in a hushed voice Before letting you rest, just like the Previous nights you guys had Hooked up. Though. This one would definitely bring you two back.

„ 𝓣he 𝓔nd !! ”

— This was made in oct 2024.. it’s March 2025.. 😭😭 I’ll be brave and post this.. 💔🥀

[constantly0lost]

Okay I haven't written in literal months, but i was inspired by the little blurb about otter harvey at the bottom of @sashiavi 's goat Harvey post, so enjoy a ramble. Alot of my sleep tired brain escaped into this, sorry for how sloppy this is, i just wanted to vocalize my thoughts or my head would have exploded. I would carry 19 of Harvey's children if asked, peace.

CW: bit of a breeding kink, i reimagined/softened the mannerisms of otters during sex cause MAN, male otters SUCK, other otter things (harveys hydrophobic hair), lactation kink, me being a simp for this man, UHHh, shitty writing :)

Otter Harvey who gives you special things that made him think of you. From rocks to acorns to mushrooms to flowers to leave and so on, and being so blushy when he gives them to you, because its just acorns but it means so much to him. And he swoons when he finds out you kept them all.

Otter Harvey who holds your hand while y'all sleep, even though you're as close as two people can physically be without fusing together. He knows logically that you can't go anywhere, and even if you did, you'd be right back in his arms, but it feels so nice to have his hand on yours.

Otter harvey who eats sea urchins in secret, not because of someone finding out he eats them, but because he has to yank one out of Vincents mouth after he saw Harvey eating them, and he didn't want to cause anyone any extra undue stress.

Otter Harvey who has to take showers with slightly more intense temperatures so that he can actually wash his hair, otherwise it rolls right off of his hair. The only time he won't is when you take a shower with him, because he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable because of him, and even then, after you get out he'll change the temperature so he can actually get clean.

Otter Harvey who, if you end up having kids, is the best fucking dad. He teaches them literally anything and everything, and sits at the table responding to their toddler gibberish with full blown sentences. He takes them to school, plays anything they want, and is a total pushover sap for them, no matter what happens. (He is also 110% a girl dad)

Otter Harvey who bites higher up on you than he probably should, but he can't help it when you make him feel such mind numbing pleasure. So now you have hickeys on your cheeks, lovebites around your nose and mouth, along with all the marks he leaves along your body.

Otter Harvey who has such a rampant breeding kink that on "bad" days, he'd fuck you over and over until he's so drained he's lightheaded and overwhelmed, and he feels guilty for fucking you like that, even though he's still inside of your puffy cunt.

Otter Harvey who can't help but moan and whimper as he fucks into you, digging his nails into your hips as your pussy seems to suck him deeper, your walls clenching around him in a downright mean way as he bites and sucks anywhere he can get his mouth to.

Otter Harvey who often and loudly verbalizes how he wants to stuff you full right as he's about to cum, drilling the head of his cock harder into your spongy walls.

Otter Harvey who, when he gets jealous, will hold you down by your neck, or might even just hold you down by your hair, as he drills into you, harder than he normally would dare. His mouth turns downright filthy, spewing the nastiest words you'll ever hear in your life, as he hefts your leg over his shoulder.

Otter Harvey who can, will, and has spent hours buried with his face between your legs, looking up at you with those pretty eyes in search of your approval. He wants you to pull on his hair to guide him, wants you to pull until his scalp burns.

Otter Harvey who whines so damn pretty when you ride him, his cock kicking on your hand as he eyes roll back, his nails digging into your thighs. He mumbles whispered gibberish, which could almost be pleas, but are too garbled to fully make out.

Otter Harvey who will suck on your tits until you produce a few beads of milk, which he gratefully laps up and swallows like it's heaven on earth. Of course afterwards he gets anxious, wanting to make sure it's not galactorrhea, and wanting to make sure you're healthy.

Otter Harvey who would bend over backwards to make sure your happy, who would wait on your hand and foot so that you feel properly appreciated. He loves you, and knowing you love him back is all he needs.

FUCKING OTTER HARVEY IM GONNA RIDE HIM IN MY DREAMS TONIGHT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

[steddiehyperfixation]

not so tragic a thing after all (steddie ficlet)

Eddie has an essay due in two days. It’s a big one, the last one of the semester, of the year, the one that will make or break his grade and determine whether or not he finally gets to graduate high school. 

And he can't write it. 

As in, he's been sitting at his desk and staring at a blank piece of lined notebook paper for hours, bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers and twirling his pencil but not producing a single word. It's not that he doesn't understand the prompt or that he doesn't know what he's going to write about, because he does understand it and he does have ideas, he just can't write it. There's some block in his brain, something that keeps him stuck there and anxious, feeling each unproductive second slipping by like a physical thing brushing past him, but still unable to make himself write. 

Eddie's always struggled with essays. Out of all the subjects, he has the lowest grade and the highest number of missing assignments in English Lit. Which is such counterintuitive bullshit because that's his favorite subject, and it's because it's his favorite subject that he's failed it every year. 

It's like this: If Eddie doesn't understand a math assignment, he doesn't care, he'll just scribble in some bullshit numbers or turn it in incomplete and take whatever grade he gets with an impassive shrug and zero damage to his self-esteem. He's just not a math guy, and that's fine. Same with science or history. But he is a words guy. Eddie is a storyteller, a writer, a lyricist; words are his weapons, his outlet, his safe space, his identity. He takes pride in his ability to artfully string his words together, and a shitty grade on a shitty essay is something he takes personally. He'd rather not turn in anything at all than turn in a collection of words he's not proud of. 

Right now the words aren't coming together just right in his head and so his hand refuses to move to write them. He tries to tell himself that it's okay if it's not quite right, that something written, even badly, is better than nothing written, and that he's only guaranteed to fail if he fails to turn this in. It doesn't have to be good, it just has to be done. He tries to force his hand to move, to write something, anything, but the signal isn't getting from his brain to his hand because his fingers continue to twirl his pencil between them rather than curl around it and press the lead to the paper like he wants them to. He just keeps sitting there and staring and fidgeting and not writing like he's been doing all day, all week, all month. 

Eddie berates himself for being so stuck, yells and shouts and curses at himself to get his shit together and just write. But he doesn't, won't, can't. The seconds keep pushing past him and the deadline inches closer and closer and his page remains blank and he's so goddamn frustrated he's on the verge of tears. 

There's a knock on the front door that makes Eddie jump and then a knock on his bedroom door that makes him shove his shamefully empty paper under a book and out of sight as Wayne pokes his head into the room to tell him, “Your boy’s at the door.” 

“For Christ’s sake, Wayne, he's not my boy.” Eddie rolls his eyes at his uncle. He drops his pencil and stands, grateful for the distraction. “Told you a million times, he's just a friend.” 

“Uh huh,” Wayne says, which isn't an argument but very much sounds like one, the way he drags out those syllables with a sort of deadpan disbelief. 

Eddie valiantly ignores him and pushes past him to open the front door for Steve. “Hey, Harrington. What're you doing here?” 

“Uh-” Steve shrugs, looking almost like he doesn't quite know what he's doing here himself. “Missed you, I guess? It's been a minute.” 

Eddie's been isolating himself the past couple weeks, canceling on Hellfire and band practices and hangouts, insisting he needs to focus on his essay. He didn't realize any of his friends had taken notice. 

“Oh, and I brought snacks!” Steve adds brightly, holding up the bag of chips in his hands like he just remembered it was there. “Thought you might need a break from your schoolwork.” 

“Oh.” Something warm blooms in Eddie's chest and tugs a smile from his lips as he moves aside to let Steve in. “That's sweet, thank you.” 

Steve returns the smile, stepping inside. “Anytime. So - how's the essay going?” 

“Uh, yeah, it's kind of not,” Eddie admits with a self-deprecating sigh, running frustrated fingers through his hair. He nods for Steve to follow as he heads back to his room and pulls the stupid blank page out from its hiding place to show off his failure. “Been at it for weeks and I still can't seem to get a single goddamn word down.” 

“Hm.” Steve frowns a little at the paper for a second, but his attention appears to be far more focused on the book the page had been shoved under: a well-worn copy of Romeo and Juliet. He smirks as he picks it up and reads the title aloud, teasing, “Didn't take you for a romantic, Munson.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It's what the essay's on.” He snatches the book back before Steve can start to flip through it and read anything he's written in the margins. “And it's not a romance, it's a tragedy - which is exactly what I was going to write about, actually, if I could just write it.” Eddie sits down heavily in his desk chair, glaring at the blank paper. “Was gonna argue that people tend to focus too much on the romance of it all, but they're missing the point entirely, and this tendency to over-romanticize the story completely overshadows and trivializes the actual themes of the play. It’s not about love, not really, or at least not in the ways people think. It’s-” 

His tangent stops short as he notices Steve beginning to rifle about his room - setting the bag of chips down on the nightstand, grabbing a pencil off the desk, scooping a random spiral notebook (his math notebook, as it happens) off the floor. Eddie turns sideways in his chair and looks at him strangely. “What are you doing?” 

Steve turns the notebook to a blank page and sits down on the edge of Eddie's bed, already starting to scribble words across the paper. “I'm taking notes,” he says, like it's obvious. “Don't let me interrupt you.” 

Eddie's eyes narrow. “Are you patronizing me?”

“No, no, of course not.” Steve's reassurance is quick and comes with a rapid shake of his head. He looks over at Eddie, expression earnest and genuine as he says, “I’m just interested in what you have to say. I wanna know what you think Romeo and Juliet is about. If it's not romance, what is it?”

Eddie regards him skeptically at first, answers in a measured tone and glances warily at the pencil continuously scratching ‘notes’ onto Steve's paper. But the more he speaks and the more Steve engages with such honest reactions of interest and encouragement, the more Eddie gives into the tide of thoughts in his head and lets them spill from his mouth with increasing enthusiasm: He describes the inherent tragedy of a life cut short which could've been prevented, rambles about the reality of being young and stupid and consumed by emotion, rants about the mortality rate of blind bigotry and prejudice, and waxes poetic about love itself being something tragic and dooming, occasionally grabbing the book and reading out lines of the actual poetry to illustrate his points. 

When Eddie's well of words on the subject eventually runs dry, Steve continues writing for just a few seconds longer before he glances up with a grin and stands to toss the notebook and pencil onto the desk next to Eddie. “There's your essay,” he announces. “Well, kind of. You might want to rearrange it a little-” 

“Steve,” Eddie cuts him off, staring at the open notebook covered in the scrawl of Steve's handwriting with wide-eyed disbelief. He looks back up at him. “You wrote my essay for me?” 

Steve shakes his head. “You wrote it. I mean, it's all your words exactly as you said them, all I did was transcribe it.” He shrugs. His tone and expression are still casual and light, but the hunch of his shoulders and the way he shoves his hands in his pockets now speaks to a sudden shyness as well. “You said you just couldn't get the words down, I know what that's like. I get that way too sometimes - just…stuck - where the thoughts and the intention are there but the action is just frozen. It helps to talk it through, but it also helps to kinda separate yourself from the task a little too. I thought if I could do that first step of getting the words on paper for you, it might make it easier for you to copy some of it down and then start to write it and reorganize it on your own, might get you past that block…” 

Eddie kind of really wants to kiss him right now, feeling young and stupid and consumed by emotion. He leaps to his feet and hugs Steve fiercely instead. “Thank you.”

Steve nearly stumbles from the force of the hug and lets out a startled laugh before returning the embrace. “Don’t even know if it worked yet. Thank me after you finish your essay.”

Eddie shakes his head against Steve's shoulder. “Thank you just for trying - just for being here, even. I’m sure there are much better ways you could've spent your Saturday than listening to me ramble about Shakespeare, but you stayed here anyways and made an effort to help me when you didn't have to. I appreciate it.” 

“Nothing else I’d rather do. I like listening to you talk; I like how passionate you are about your opinions, even if they are a bit cynical.” Steve pulls back with a smile, squeezing Eddie's shoulders for a second before dropping his hands. “It's gonna be a killer essay.” 

Eddie beams at him, the warmth in his expression a reflection of the glow that's unfurling in his chest again.  He plops back down at his desk and picks up his pencil, hovering it over his own blank paper as he looks over the words - his words - that Steve had written. He takes an anticipatory breath…and starts to write. 

Steve was right, restating the words once they've already been written down by someone else does depersonalize it enough to make Eddie finally able to write it and it does get him past that initial block. Soon he's able to move on from simply copying down the words and begins to add new ones and make edits. A laugh escapes him like a cheer, a short burst of something giddy with satisfaction and relief. He's writing, and writing and writing and writing, the words flowing from brain to pencil to paper perfectly and with ease, the way it should've been from the start. 

Steve hangs off to the side at first like he's trying to give Eddie space to work, but ends up slowly drifting closer. When Eddie cheers, Steve's hand goes to his shoulder again, giving it another squeeze, encouraging and proud. His hand then stays there, thumb idly rubbing across Eddie's shoulder blade as he watches the other write. Eddie feels like he's got electricity running through his veins.  

Somewhere within the next hour or so, three pages and two sheets of paper later, Eddie slams his pencil down and sighs with finality, “Done!” This earns him another shoulder-squeeze from Steve and a bright smile when Eddie looks up at him. “You are a fucking lifesaver, Harrington, I don't know what I would've done without you.” 

“Glad I could help,” Steve says, his smile turning sheepish and his hand finally dropping from Eddie's shoulder as he gives a modest shrug and adds, “I’m sure you would've managed on your own, though.” 

“I wouldn't have. I would've failed,” Eddie says seriously. “I was fighting an epic battle against my brain and I would've lost, would've doomed myself to yet another year of pointless high school existence, if you hadn't swooped in and saved me like a goddamn knight in shining armor.” He cracks a grin and stands to dip into a melodramatic bow. “I am forever indebted to you, my liege.”

Steve laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. “You're being dramatic.” 

“I’m allowed to be.” Eddie straightens and grabs his essay off the desk, holding it up and shaking the papers. “This is my golden ticket out of high school, man, you have no idea how much this means to me.” 

“Well then, we should celebrate.” 

“We can finally eat those chips you brought.” Eddie moves around him and reaches to grab the bag of chips on the nightstand, but Steve catches his hand. 

“Screw the chips,” Steve says. “This calls for a proper celebration. How about we go get dinner somewhere? My treat.” 

Eddie glances down at his hand in Steve's. “Are you asking me out, Romeo?” he asks as he looks back up, a teasing edge to his grin so he can play it off as a joke if he needs to. 

“Depends.” Steve rubs his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand, eyes flicking across the other's face almost nervously. “What would you say if I was?” 

Eddie’s smile softens and he finally curls his fingers around Steve's hand. “I'd say yes.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then yes,” Steve says, his face breaking into a bright and beautiful grin, “I am absolutely asking you out.” 

Another cheer of laughter bursts out of him, giddy now for an entirely different reason. “What are you waiting for then, big boy?” Eddie holds Steve’s hand tight, already starting to drag him from the room. “Where are you taking me?” 

Steve laughs as well and lets himself be pulled along for a second before taking the lead as they head for the front door. “You’ll see.” 

To Wayne sitting on the couch watching some game on the TV, Eddie shouts over his shoulder in passing, “Finished my essay, we’re going out to eat!”

Wayne nods in acknowledgement. His eyes flick to the boys’ joined hands, a knowing smugness in his expression as he mouths subtly to Eddie, ‘Your boy.’ 

Eddie just grins in response, and then he’s out the door. 

Steve takes him to a diner, Eddie’s favorite one, and it makes his chest warm again that Steve knows that. They grab a booth in the corner, hidden from prying eyes. Steve makes fun of Eddie for dipping his fries in his milkshake, Eddie makes fun of Steve for covering his directly in ketchup. It’s all talking and laughing and easy banter, same as it’s always been since they’ve been friends, except now Steve holds his hand and hooks their ankles together under the table and peppers smooth compliments into the conversation that have Eddie grinning and blushing like crazy. The famed Harrington charm is in full effect, moves and lines he’s sure Steve’s used hundreds of times on hundreds of girls, but now they’re just for him, woven so easily into the dynamic that already exists between them, and Eddie basks in it. 

It’s the best first date he could’ve asked for. 

Perfect gentleman that he is, Steve even insists on walking Eddie to the door when he takes him home. Steve kisses him on the porch then, soft and sweet and promising, and Eddie’s starting to think that maybe love isn’t so tragic a thing after all… 

Maybe he needs to rewrite his essay. 

(also on ao3)

[anonmousegosqueak]

I've been having shitty sickness and period time (god I want a dick) so pls have my unedited thoughts.

Johnny and Simon in almost any AU give me "Fair" by The Amazing Devils that it's not even funny anymore. I just cry whenever I hear that song because I've got so many ghoap scenes in my head.

Transmasc Gaz who has like, no period cramps at all, even though his t-shots are a little all over the place cause of missions. Johnny on the other hand, dies. Every time he gets a period, cause he's even worse about his shots, he's reduced to a victorian child in Roach's bed (the most blankets) cursing out Gaz and trying to telepathically transfer his cramps.

Price had a fat crush on Nik, and the boys teased him about it for literal months, were open to bringing the pilot into the fold. "More the merrier" as Johnny said. Nik declined a relationship (aromantic hc) but is always up for some good sex when he's on base.

To me, Simon looks similar to Jeremy Allen White. It's mainly the nose, the hair, and the dimples. Like, I love 'pretty boy' Simon, but unconventionally attractive Simon is my favourite.

Roach loves Star Trek for the same reasons I do. Loves that disabilities aren't 'cured' but have accommodations, that people are so openly themselves and it's just accepted. His favourite characters are Tuvok (ST: Voyager), Geordi (ST: Next Generation), and Jim Kirk (ST: Original Series). His favourite installment of the franchise is Deep Space 9, and he makes everyone watch at least three episodes before they can decide if they like it or not.

-🦴

Boner, you literally bullied me into answering this (/j, dw I'm being dramatic) by asking if you asked this. Ask-ask? Whatever, if I write this then I might write more today.

Honestly, I think all of these are like- really good? And really fleshed out? I dunno what to say so I've decided to take my favorite one and make a little minific/story/idk-just-talking-about-a-time-it-happened about it.

Under the cut because 1) I might use a curse words :0 and 2) I'm sick of trying to find a post and scrolling through miles long text because it doesn't automatically cut it on my own page.

Real cw(with less jokes)- trans men getting periods, cursing, pain from said period, I think there's a sex joke or two?

Cw- talks of men getting periods, they all be smoochin, that's right I made it undefined poly141, I myself get the most irregular periods and don't actually know what it's like to be normal (aka period inaccuracies?), occasional Scottish accent but not fully written out so like cringe ig?

Poor Johnny.

Basically everyone knew when that time of the month (he's lucky if it has a schedule) came around. Everything gets noticeably quieter, less explosions, and at least one other member disappeared alongside Soap.

He didn't think much about it on the ride back. Yeah his stomach hurt a bit, but that was probably just the rations. He was covered in sweat and probably some enemy blood, that's probably the reason his legs feel sticky. That's it... Right?

That is, until Ghost is silently nudging him to shut his legs. He of course is about to argue, only getting cut off when Ghost leans down and whispers.

"you're bleeding through your pants, MacTavish."

Oh. That gets him about as red as the blood he's now acutely aware of, embarrassed he didn't notice. *Goddamnit.*

As soon as they touch down, he's grabbing hightailing it to the showers. Makes a quick stop to grab his toiletry bag, a change of clothes, and an old towel that he doesn't care about getting some blood on. Then, he's stripping down (praying he can save this pair of pants, he really likes 'em and doesn't want them to be stained forever) and scrubbing every inch of his body. Sure enough, it looks like that one scene from the shining down there.

He'd never been blessed with light flow.

As if being summoned by his panic, the cramps double. The adrenaline of the battlefield was able to distract him for a while, but it's worn off by now. He's already gritting his teeth and cussing out whatever God made his dumbass uterus (that he didn't even want!) so fucking painful. Do his thoughts make full sense? Na. Is the message clear? Yup. Besides, the quiet rambling helps keep him distracted.

He literally screams when a pair of arms wrap around his torso.

"Woah- Tav! Relax, just me."

Sure enough, behind him stands a very wet Gaz. How long had he been there?

"You alright, mate?"

"Aye, never better."

God- the sarcasm is practically dripping from every word. Soap tends to get a bit salty at Gaz around this time. Chalk it up to jealousy.

"Oi- none of that. Just relax, alright? I'll wash your hair, 's long as you don't scream again."

Soap doesn't say much, he simply grumbles and slouches down, melting slightly as slim fingers run through his hair.

He doesn't say anything as the water shuts off, as he gets scooped up, as he gets worked into a pair of boxers (the ones with the sewn in pad, Soap realizes) and carried out of the shower room. He doesn't say anything as he gets laid down on a comfy bed and covered in blankets. The most sounds he makes are moans from pain and a little happy sound as Roach curls up around him.

The last thing he remembers before passing out is Roach looking up at him, eyes sparkling.

'they say sex helps cramps?'

"Shut up- hot water bottles don't speak."

That little squeaky giggle lulls him to sleep, pain subsiding just a bit. Maybe in the morning he'll take Roach up on that offer, for now though, it's sleepy time.

Idk, just short and sweet. I feel like Boner explained the whole thing very well, I just wanted to make a story where Soap gets cuddles and Roach is horny. The end ig?

[mydarlingclaudia]

there’s always a piece of you

note : divider is from @/cafekitsune. uhhh idrk how to feel about this one I just kinda wanted to write angst so this probably sucks and I know it's ooc whoopsies

wc : 1.3k

desc : you've been dead for a few months now, Leon still can't get over it. established relationship, angst, hurt no comfort (I think? correct me if I'm wrong), not proofread, Leon contemplates suicide and is also reliant on alcohol, gn!reader, I kind of flip-floped between vendetta!Leon and re6!Leon so idrk you pick

There were plenty of things that happened to Leon that made his life miserable, one of them was losing you. It was no one's fault, you got sick, you had an expiration date, and Leon did everything he could to try and help you get better, but it didn't work. Leon didn't regret spending a bunch of his money trying to make your sickness go away, he just wished it would've worked, that you'd still be here with him.

Maybe not right this second, though. Maybe he doesn't want you in the car with him while he's speeding down the road, half-past one in the morning and half-past drunk.

He thinks too much, drinking doesn't help him stop thinking, like, at all, he doesn't know why he expects the outcome to be different whenever he pours himself some whiskey, but if he crashes his car then he has something to blame it on. He'd already gotten too many lectures from Claire and Chris about how he should take better care of himself, that things weren't going to stay as bad as they are right now, but things had been shitty for Leon for so long that this just added to the list of reasons on why he should drink himself to death.

You and Leon had your ups and down, everyone did, but he still doesn't believe you ever really knew how much you helped him. Knowing he had someone at home waiting for him made his job a bit easier, and knowing you were his and that he was the one who put that ring on your finger made him feel like there was something more to his life than being a weapon for the government. Leon was your husband, had been your husband, still is. He wished more than anything that he had spent more time with you, that his job didn't have to be the center of his life while you were forced to be secondary, he couldn't quit, not while he was still able-bodied, but he promised you that one day he'd have his final day in the DSO and that he'd take you on vacation without having it interrupted.

Leon was able to take you on vacation for a week to Greece, but even when the two of you came back home, he wanted to keep taking you beautiful places while he was still able to. There was still paperwork he had to do, a few less missions but he still had to do his job, you understood. He hated it, though. He wanted you to yell at him about how he should be at home with you, spending as much time as he possibly could with you. But you never yelled at him about it even though he knew it upset you, you said there was no use in arguing, he’d be there when you needed him.

He shouldn’t keep dwelling on this, you’ve been dead for five months now, but he can't get himself to focus on anything else. Leon didn't know why ghosts weren't real. If there could be zombies wandering the streets as well as dozens of other creatures that only Hell could spit out, why weren't there ghosts? Leon would take you being alive over you being a ghost any day, but if a ghost was the best he could settle for, then that's what he would accept. But he was yet to get any messages on the wall written in blood or find your belongings in places where they weren't before, not that you had to be a ghost to haunt him.

All the windows in his car are rolled all the way down, Leon's not listening to the radio or any music, he's been on all these roads before, but he still doesn't really know where he's going. He left D.C. around eight p.m. to go to a bar in Maryland, he had left the bar maybe half an hour ago and was driving through the woods, he didn’t have any plans on going back into D.C. just yet. Leon wasn’t the best driver to begin with, being drunk definitely didn’t make him any better, be he’d rather drive himself home or to the middle of nowhere than call someone to take him home.

He liked calling you, though.

Of course, you never picked up, he just liked calling so he could hear your voice on the recorded message for your missed calls. Sometimes he’d actually talk, others he’d just keep driving down the road while the silence on your end of the line dragged on.

Leon sighs softly and bites the inside of his cheek as he takes one hand off the wheel to dig in his back pocket for his phone. He steals glances between the road and his phone as he unlocks it and opens your contact, waiting patiently as it begins ringing. Leon clears his throat slightly and takes his other hand off the wheel to run his hand through his sweaty hair as he waits for your voice recording to switch on before grabbing hold of the wheel again.

He opens his mouth to talk once the ringing stops, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before he hears someone else on the other end.

“Hello? Who is this?” The tired voice of a woman makes his breath catch in his throat, he takes his foot off the gas and slams down on the brake, the tires of his car make a horrible screeching noise as he swerves to the side. Leon thinks he must've finally gone crazy, there couldn't have been another voice on the end of the line that was supposed to belong to you.

The woman speaks up again as Leon's car finally comes to a stop, he hadn't hit anything, but there are swervey skid marks that go down the road for a couple dozen feet. Leon breathes shakily into his phone, his foot still pressed down on the brake as he puts his car in park and leans back against his seat.

"I- fuck, I'm sorry." Leon began, his throat feeling even dryer than it already was. "Go back to bed, o-or whatever you were doing before I called. Just- goddammit." He quickly hangs up the phone and tosses it down onto the passenger seat. Leon runs his hands down his face, he can feel his chest tightening up like his lungs are about to pop inside his ribs, the stinging sensation in his eyes and throat only worsens.

When had they put your number back into use? That poor girl would probably block his number and he'd lose that little bit of your voice forever. Leon could go through his phone to find videos of you or just anything where he could hear your voice, but he figured he should wait until he remembered to work his phone more than trying to call you.

Day by day, it feels like he's losing you even more. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to get rid of your things, your clothes are still in his closet, your shampoo was still in the shower, God, even your medication was still in the medicine cabinet. But no matter how many of your things remained in his home, you're still gone.

Leon was supposed to die before you, he'd imagined it hundreds of times in his head, you knew it, too. All of this could have been avoided if he just killed himself after Raccoon City or had died on one of his missions before meeting you, maybe it would have been better for him if he had never sat next to you on that train and started talking too much.

There's nothing he can do about it now except weep and get so drunk that he could still hear you talking to him, not that he didn't imagine you laying back down in bed or lounging on the couch when he was sober. Maybe he'll see you again sooner rather than later, there wasn't really anyone who was around enough to stop him. All he knew was that his life was never really his after 1998, and without you in it, maybe it was time for it to come to an end.

[boobo13cambridge]

Drifting Apart I | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Angst, physical violence (Y/N slaps him)

Summary: Y/N and Kylian’s relationship is crumbling as they navigate the most difficult moments of their lives. Will they stay or fall apart due to the pressure?

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is the first time I’ve ever written angst, so I really hope you guys give it much love. As always don’t forget to like, comment, and repost! Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Tired.

Exhausted.

Drained.

Three words that fully encompassed her emotions as she finally put the triplets to sleep after a long day of cleaning up dirty diapers and writing a thesis. Y/N felt close to tears as she felt overwhelming guilt for being worn out at taking care of her babies when she loved them with all her heart. To make matters worse, she and Kylian had been getting into a lot of arguments lately. She knew how important and stressful this year was for him, and in the back of her mind, she wished that they had waited a bit more before having kids.

After getting married in the summer of 2021, the young couple wanted to enjoy a few years together before starting a family. Getting married so young, at the ripe age of 20 and 22, came as quite a shock to some (which in her eyes didn't make sense because a lot of footballers had kids even younger), but they were in love, and despite their parents' skepticism, they tied the knot on July 12, 2021.

Fast forward a year, and Y/N found herself staring at the two dark lines indicating that she's pregnant. Getting pregnant a few months before the 2022 World Cup was definitely not part of the plan, but with the support of their families, they made it through somehow. Throughout her whole pregnancy, Kylian was the best husband any woman could ever ask for, always so attentive and understanding of her every need. When they found out they were having triplets, and all boys at that, Y/N almost had a mental breakdown because she could never in a million years understand how she could ever be a mom to one kid, let alone three. It took Kylian, her mom, and two nurses and a doctor to calm her down.

And needless to say, the triplets, or as Kylian loves to call them 'his perfect hat-trick,' were born on December 4, 2022, right when Kylian had scored two goals to qualify France for the quarter-finals. In all honesty, she really wished she could have just given birth in Doha, but she was under strict surveillance and wasn't allowed to travel. Needless to say, in the moment, she was quite happy that she was having a c-section instead of a normal birth but regretted that soon after as it took way longer to recover. Kylian was definitely devastated to have missed his sons' birth and was this close to booking a flight back to Paris. It took Marcus and Ousmane to calm him down and talk him out of it.

A couple of days after that, France lost the World Cup, which absolutely broke her heart, but she was happy that her husband would be by her side. Post-World Cup, Kylian Mbappé was a very attentive father and husband, but she knew how much the loss had affected him and tried her best to cheer him up. She was secretly glad he had injured himself because he would finally get a break from playing with such a shitty team. Now, back to the present, May 28th, 2024, Post-Transfer Kylian Mbappé was moody and had a frown permanently etched on his forehead.

Once again, she tried to understand, knowing he had so much pressure on his shoulders from transferring to Real Madrid. He was Kylian Mbappé, the current greatest footballer, and people never gave him a break, always demanding perfection every match. He had a huge burden to carry, with the fans pointing out every little mistake he made on the pitch. The Madridistas had long anticipated his transfer, and they were out for blood. If the fans were demanding, then Kylian was even more demanding of himself. It was like living with the shadow of her husband. Gone was the sweet man who would make her breakfast in bed and massage her feet. In his place was someone who only had one thing on his mind: winning everything.

La Liga, Copa del Rey, Supercopa de España, UEFA Champions League, Euros, Summer Olympic Games.

She was going crazy just thinking about it. Lately, it was as if the only thing on his mind was trophies, and she couldn't stand it. The day before the La Liga final, which was held at the Bernabeu just two days ago, Kylian had once again started an argument just because she told him that she was tired of putting his dirty clothes in the laundry and that he should do it himself. The argument was so bad that she didn't even want to be there at the last match of the La Liga season, but on the day of the match, Kylian had profusely apologized and begged, so she forgave him and came to see him lift the trophy. This morning, Kylian had woken up in a foul mood and just seemed to want to be an absolute dickhead. He nitpicked at everything she did before leaving for practice, loudly complaining that she had put too much protein powder in his shake.

The whole day, she tried to text him and call him, but he was ignoring her calls. She had had enough; she couldn't deal with it anymore. Time and time again, she had tried to be understanding, swallowing and smiling through every single complaint and whine he let out. So what if he had his first Champions League final with his new club in three days? She didn't deserve to be treated like such a nuisance.

As she went to the kitchen to grab something to drink, she broke down into sobs. It was too much. She hated feeling like she wasn't enough. Kylian hadn't kissed her, much less said, "I love you," before storming out. For months, all he did was complain, complain, and complain.

The young woman heard the door open and close, instantly recognizing her lover's footsteps. She tried to muffle her sobs so he wouldn't hear, but she forgot that the kitchen lights were on.

Kylian walked right through the archway leading to the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw her teary face, instantly feeling guilty. He knew he had been treating her horribly these past few months and that he should stop, but he had been so stressed with everything that he took it all out on the love of his life and the mother of his children.

"Bébé, are you okay?" he asked slowly, approaching her and trying to wipe her tears, but she moved back. Her action pained him because he realized how much of a jerk he had been.

"What do you think? Do I look like I'm okay?" she snapped at him, wiping the tears with the back of her hand, her voice filled with frustration.

"I'm sorry, my love. I've been such an ass-" he said apologetically.

"Yes, you have! You have no idea what I've been going through because of you!" she replied angrily, her tone laced with resentment.

"Bébé, you have no idea how sor-" he tried to explain, but she cut him off.

"Save your fucking apologies, Kylian! I don't fucking care anymore. You've made me feel like the biggest piece of shit these past few months," she spat out, her words filled with bitterness.

"You know how stressed I've been with the transfer and-" he started to defend himself, but she interrupted him.

"AND SO YOU DECIDED TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME WHEN I-" she yelled, her tone conveying a mixture of anger and hurt.

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN GOING THROUGH WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE PUSHING THEIR EXPECTATIONS ON ME WHILE YOU SIT AT HOME-" he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

"SIT AT HOME? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU EVEN DO THE WHOLE DAY EXCEPT KICK A FUCKING BALL AROUND WHILE I TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS, CLEAN THE HOUSE, COOK FOOD, WRITE MY FUCKING THESIS, WHICH YOU NEVER EVEN BOTHER ASKING ABOUT BECAUSE OF COURSE THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD TURNS AROUND MR. HOTSHOT HIMSELF!"

"KICK A BALL AROUND ALL DAY? ME DOING THAT IS THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU SPEND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS BUYING USELESS SHIT-" 

"I USE MY OWN MONEY TO BUY SHIT, YOU DICKHEAD! AND THE ONLY USELESS SHIT I BUY WITH YOUR MONEY IS CLOTHES AND FOOD FOR THE CHILDREN YOU KNOCKED ME UP RIGHT AFTER I GRADUATED! I'VE SACRIFICED SO MUCH FOR YOU-" 

"SACRIFICED?! WHAT HAVE YOU SACRIFICED FOR ME, HUH? STOP ACTING LIKE I KNOCKED YOU UP WHEN YOU WERE MORE THAN WILLING TO SPREAD YOUR LEGS FOR ME!" 

SLAP.

The sound reverberated through the kitchen, accompanied by a sharp sting on Kylian's cheek. Pain radiated through his face, mingling with the shock that coursed through his veins. His hand instinctively reached up to cradle his burning cheek, his eyes widening in disbelief. The room seemed to spin as he struggled to comprehend what had just transpired.

Y/N's expression mirrored his own disbelief, her eyes wide with horror at the consequences of her actions. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the remorse that consumed her. She trembled, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she had done. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, where the line between love and anger blurred into a haze of anguish.

"Kylian, I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice quivering with remorse. Each word dripped with the weight of her regret, desperate to erase the irreversible damage she had caused.

His throat tightened, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within him. The pain on his cheek competed with the anger that burned in his chest. He fought to find his voice, to process the torrent of thoughts that assailed his mind. The apology hung in the air, suspended between them, as he grappled with conflicting impulses.

Gulping down the lump in his throat, Kylian felt the anger surge within him, fueled by his own frustrations and insecurities. The relentless stress, anxiety, and guilt that had plagued him clawed their way to the surface, intertwining with the raw ache on his cheek. It was a toxic concoction that threatened to consume him, driving him to respond with his own fury.

But beneath the anger, a part of him acknowledged his own culpability. He was not blameless in this dance of discord. The weight of his actions pressed upon his conscience, intertwining with the pain on his cheek. The realization of his own flaws clashed with the indignation that simmered in his veins.

In that moment, Kylian made a choice. A choice to channel the anger, the hurt, and the guilt into something different. Instead of lashing out, he took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of self-control. The anger flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it, focusing on the vulnerability before him.

He approached Y/N slowly, his steps cautious and deliberate. His hand reached out, hesitantly, aiming to wipe away her tears, but she flinched, pulling back as if his touch were a reminder of her own transgressions. The ache in his heart matched the pain on his cheek, the longing to bridge the chasm that had formed between them.

Words hung unspoken, heavy with unexpressed emotions. They both knew that apologies alone were not enough to heal the wounds they had inflicted upon each other. The room remained steeped in anguished silence, punctuated only by the echoes of their shattered love.

As the weight of the moment settled upon them, Kylian and Y/N stood at a crossroads. A crossroads where anger and remorse converged, where past mistakes collided with uncertain futures. The path forward was shrouded in shadows, their once-solid foundation crumbling beneath the weight of their anguished hearts.

Time seemed to stand still in the wake of their confrontation, the air heavy with unspoken words and shattered expectations. The kitchen, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and intimate conversations, now felt like a battlefield, scarred by the aftermath of their verbal warfare. 

Kylian's gaze never wavered from Y/N, his eyes tracing the contours of her tear-streaked face. He longed to bridge the distance between them, to mend the rift that had widened with each bitter exchange. The ache in his heart intensified, a poignant reminder of the love that had once bound them together.

Y/N's body trembled with a mix of regret, fear, and a longing for reconciliation. The weight of her actions bore down on her, leaving her feeling small and vulnerable. She yearned for solace, for the reassurance that their love could withstand the tempestuous storm that raged within them.

With measured steps, Kylian closed the physical gap between them, his heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and determination. He reached out once again, his hand hovering in the space between them, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, caught in the crosscurrents of conflicting emotions. Her gaze met Kylian's, searching for a glimmer of the man she had fallen in love with—the man who had once cherished her and their family above all else. Slowly, tentatively, she extended her trembling hand, allowing their fingers to intertwine, a fragile connection in the face of their shattered trust.

In that delicate touch, an unspoken promise lingered. It whispered of their shared history, the moments of tenderness and joy that had been eclipsed by their recent turbulence. It spoke of a willingness to rebuild, to confront their flaws and the demons that haunted them.

The silence, once heavy with resentment, now became a sacred space for introspection and reflection. The unspoken words hung in the air, their weight acknowledged by both parties. It was a moment of surrender, a recognition that love could not thrive in the absence of vulnerability and forgiveness.

However, despite their fragile moment of reconciliation, the scars of their previous altercation still festered beneath the surface. The guilt and anger that plagued them now resided like smoldering embers, waiting for the slightest breeze to ignite their fury once more.

The following morning, the house was shrouded in an uneasy silence. Kylian moved cautiously, as if walking on eggshells, acutely aware of the tension that lingered in the air. Y/N, her face etched with traces of weariness and apprehension, busied herself in the kitchen, desperately trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass pierced the fragile peace. Kylian's hand trembled as he gazed at the broken fragments scattered across the floor, his breath catching in his throat. The weight of his mistake crashed down upon him, triggering a surge of self-loathing.

Before Kylian could even react, Y/N's voice lashed out, sharp and cutting. "Kylian, how many times have I told you to be careful? You never pay attention to anything!" Her words dripped with frustration, a reflection of her own mounting resentment.

His heart sank, a mixture of shame and frustration swirling within him. The bitterness that had consumed him since their previous argument threatened to overflow. He could no longer bear the weight of his guilt and his bruised pride.

The room seemed to close in on them as Kylian's retort hung heavily in the air, each word a dagger aimed at Y/N's wounded heart. "Oh, what now? Are you going to slap me again, Y/N?"

The accusation cut through the air, leaving a palpable silence in its wake. Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief and hurt, her body trembling with a mixture of shock and anger. The triplets, sensing the rising tension, began to cry, their innocent wails intermingling with the growing storm of emotions.

Y/N's voice quivered as she fought back tears, her voice heavy with a mixture of sorrow and indignation. "How dare you say that, Kylian? I never wanted to hurt you, and you know it!"

The room trembled with their voices, each word a dagger aimed to wound, tearing at the fabric of their fragile bond. Kylian's face contorted with anger, his voice laced with a bitterness he could no longer contain. "Of course you never wanted to hurt me, right? You've done such a fantastic job so far!" Kylian spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Complaining and nagging every fucking day like I don’t already have enough of that every time I open social media"

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, a mixture of pain and disbelief etched on her face. She struggled to find her voice, to make sense of the torrent of emotions crashing over her. "I'm trying, Kylian. I'm trying so hard to hold us together, to be there for you and the kids. But it feels like nothing I do is ever enough!"

He scoffed, the bitterness in his voice turning his words into venom. "You? Trying hard? Don't make me laugh! All you do is complain and criticize. You're so quick to point out my faults, but what about your own? Or do you think you're perfect?"

Y/N's voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. "I never claimed to be perfect, Kylian. But I've given up so much for you, for our family. I've sacrificed my dreams and aspirations to support you, only to be constantly belittled and dismissed!"

Kylian's eyes blazed with fury, his fists clenched at his sides. "Oh, so now it's all about your sacrifices, is it? What about mine? What about the pressure I face every single day, the weight of expectations on my shoulders?"

Their words collided in the air, their voices filled with resentment and unspoken pain. The triplets' cries grew louder, their innocence caught in the crossfire of their parents' anguish.

Unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, Kylian turned on his heels, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't have time for this. I have a plane to catch, a team to lead. Maybe being away from you for a while will do us both some good."

As he stormed out of the house, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Y/N standing in a sea of shattered hopes and shattered glass. The anguished cries of their children echoed through the empty rooms, a haunting reminder of the fractures in their once-unbreakable bond.

In that moment, as the gravity of their fight settled upon them, both Kylian and Y/N were left with a hollow ache in their hearts, each tormented by their own regrets and the uncertain path that lay before them.

[astrocatarcadia]

If any of you want to understand Commodus you really can't just read modern accounts on him in books like "Evil Roman Emperors". Not even reading all of the classical sources is enough if you think they hold the absolute truth. Dio was a senator, Herodian was an elitist, and Historia Augusta was written long after Commodus' had died, and it's a book known to make up stuff. All of these sources are drastically biased, therefore they can only be trusted to certain point.

I believe that to truly start to understand him you analyse the ancient sources, putting them in their context. Try to be aware of WHO wrote them and WHY would they do it. Ancient historians wanted their writings to have a moral lesson behind them, if the emperor did something that didn't benefit their social group, it was likely he was going to be represented as a bad person, so his actions would be associated with a bad personality.

Furthermore if you take into account how other Emperors after him did NOT avoid being identified or related to him or symbolism he used show us that he and his reign were definitely NOT as bad as we've been told. Severus wanted to make himself related to the previous reigning dynasty to have a dynastic claim. He could've done associating himself with other people from that dynasty, however, he CHOSE Commodus as his adoptive brother. And it was well received!! I believe it was him too that had give the army the same treatment that Commodus so he could have them on his side. Then again, this means the army and the people did not have (at least the majority of them) this bad image of Commodus' we're always told by the ancient sources.

It's also important to take into account statuary, epigraphic and numismatic evidence!! It helps see how the emperor wanted to be seen as during different years of his reign and who his messages were meant to and by who were better received. Per example there's some inscriptions using the name of the months Commodus' used towards the end of his reign, which shows people accepted that change, at least to a certain point. And the numimastic evidence has SO MANY DETAILS... Commodus knew exactly how he wanted to be perceived. (Also there were quite a few games in honor of Commodus that kept being celebrated long after he died, thing I don't think people would've done if he was such a tyrannical awful maniac. And there's minor classical sources like the poet Dracontius and some christian authors that speak well of Commodus reign so...there's that).

With all this I've genuinely just scratched the surface, but it's important stuff to take into account. I'm tired of seeing people regard him as this tyrannical brat that was obsessed with Hercules and playing gladiator (haven't gotten too much into this in this post but I can elaborate further if any of you are interested) and everyone around him took advantage of him(I may also elaborate on this on other post). Commodus reigned during almost THIRTEEN years. One does not accomplish that by being as shitty and lazy of a ruler as he's portrayed.

The monography I recommend the most if anyone wants to learn about Commodus is "Commodus: An emperor at the Crossroads" by O.J. Hekster.

I've also read some articles about him that I can look up if any of you are interested and I've also read "The day Commodus killed a rhino" which while I think is a good approach I believe it's too superficial. I also would love to read "La Lotta politica al tempo di Commodo" by F. Grosso but I can't find it anywhere 😭. The classical sources are a must read in my opinion, even if they're only truthful to a point we can't really know and they're codependent.

However, books like "Evil emperors" by Phillip Barlag or "The roman empire" by Isaac Asimov genuinely just keep repeating the biased view the classical sources give us or even exaggerating it further.

[adhd-riddled-crow]

"Someone To Stay"

Me and @alystrin03 made a collab fic with our Rooks <3

We have provided yall with the salty, the sweet, and the spicy! We really cooked on this one, and I hope yall enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it!

You can read it here on AO3 <3

Or here under the cut:

It had been a long time since Alecto had set foot in Rialto. Although it was a beautiful and pleasant city, she was not in a position to appreciate it. Lately, things had gone pretty shitty: since Viago had taken up his position as Talon, he'd been more cranky than usual – not that he'd ever been nice before – and more often. The scolding was practically daily, and nothing she did seemed to satisfy him in the slightest. Alecto kept wondering what the hell she saw in him, but even she didn't have the answer. She was in a bad mood, depressed and tired of feeling like he didn't give a fuck.

She wasn't the only one going through a rough patch. Though it had been a few months, Viago's own brother, Velasco, or as many called him, ‘Cuervo,’ had lost his former lover in a Venatori attack while embarking on a mission to Minrathous. No one understood what the hell had gone wrong, if anyone was good at his job it was Lucanis Dellamorte, but the truth was that first learning of his capture and then finding the corpse was not exactly encouraging. And yet, even so, Velasco clung to hope as if it were a burning nail, sometimes saying that it was completely impossible, that it had to be a mistake. At times it seemed that he was coming to terms with the idea of tragedy, but at others it was quite the opposite. Looking at him Alecto felt she had no right to complain, her feelings may not have been reciprocated but at least she had not known the pain of losing the only love of her life. She also had not known the feeling of being loved, though.

Perhaps that is why – but who knows – Viago had decided to send the two of them away from home, to fulfil a fairly simple contract, but one that needed to be completed as soon as they could. Perhaps in his twisted mind it made sense to take those two people away from him, but it was particularly frustrating to Alecto that he would take away from him precisely two of the Crows who would give their lives for him without a second's thought.

Velasco hadn't said a word on the road, immersed in his own thoughts. His mood changed quite often: he could go from laughing to completely depressed in a matter of seconds. From time to time she glanced at him sideways, but she didn't know exactly what to say. Something inside her was screaming at her to break the damned silence, but Alecto could not find the words.

“Tell me you're the one who remembers the instructions,” she finally said, with a sigh, “I know Viago was talking for a long time, but you know I'm not much of a listener. Besides, every time I tried to pay attention to him he would only make a sour remark to me. Sometimes I think he gives me contracts just to avoid having me in front of him."

Cuervo pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from one of his pockets, with the details outlined in broad strokes. Written in coded language, of course, they couldn't afford to risk it falling into the wrong hands, no matter how stupid the mission seemed to them. Of course, if she had written it, no one would know what it said either, Alecto herself was aware that her handwriting left much to be desired.

“We were given the simple task of assassinating a noble, whose name I couldn't give a shit about right now. Far too easy a job but, Viago's the boss.” The taller Crow said with a defeated sigh, not even looking at the crumpled note instead handing it over to Alecto. “We could be doing something far more interesting right about now. But nope,” He pops the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Vi's got us doing grunt work as a treat.” His tone couldn't be any further from uninterested.

Alecto was reading the note that Cuervo had handed to her but she responded nonetheless to his blatant sarcasm with a joke, “Being away from him is already more than enough of a treat. Don't you think, Cuervo? Also, we could try to find something to make our job a bit funnier... just for the two of us.” she nudged him with her elbow hopefully coming off in a playful manner, attempting to lighten their overall sour mood, to no avail.

Velasco let out a small huff of a chuckle, “You can say that again.” The following silence stretched on for an uncomfortable length of time – Alecto was beginning to think that something had happened. Velasco wore a stone faced expression, drowning in the deep waters that make up his thoughts, before abruptly swapping back to his trademark smirk, “Do you think this noble guy would have some expensive alcohol laying around?”

“Oh ho-ho! I like where this is going, Cuervo. How'd you guess what I was thinking? I'm the one with magic here.” Alecto responded in turn, humour at full force, appreciating the change in mood.

“You know more than anyone that I've got more than enough tricks up these sleeves. C'mon let's see what our targets got lying around. I wonder if any of it'll be drinkable?”

Alecto looked at him, with a mischievous grin, "Back to work, then. Men who always know how to see the brighter side of things are the ones I like the most!”

The target, according to her notes, was a nobleman named Sébastien Corbel: a somewhat pretentious Orlesian whose commercial rivals had decided it was time for their business to close down. As Velasco had rightly pointed out, it was insultingly easy. Oblivious to the danger hanging over his head, parties at his mansion celebrating his success were almost daily, with a multitude of guests he barely knew.

Alecto had not the slightest difficulty in sneaking in. Getting an invitation was as simple as knocking out one of the Orlesians on their way to the estate, so the Crow crossed the threshold with ease, blending in with the crowd as if she had been part of them all her life.

Perched on one of the nearby balconies, Velasco waited patiently. He didn't have to wait long: soon one of the windows opened a little, just enough to reveal that purple-eyed gaze for a moment, which disappeared in a heartbeat. With a confident smile, he dropped inside the mansion. Time to dance.

"You could have chosen a slightly less showy outfit, pet," the whisper behind his back made him startle a little. "Though I'm not going to complain when I can enjoy the view too."

Velasco chuckled at the compliment. Alecto, behind him, tapped his shoulder lightly, motioning for him to follow her. The first floor, completely empty, seemed the most suitable place for an ambush. Servants and partygoers alike were on the main floor, and the sound of bottles, laughter, and conversation was louder than would be prudent. Alecto led him into one of the rooms, closing the door behind them.

"I knew you were straightforward, but I didn't imagine it would be this much." Velasco could not help but joke at the situation, despite the grim mood they were both in.

She approached him, eyes sparkling in amusement, half-smiling, amused, "Cuervo, love, you wish," her voice was extremely honeyed, seductive, and she broke the spell with a chuckle, "but I don't know, you might not even get me started."

It was a direct provocation, an invitation even. In Alecto's logic, there were two ways to drown one's sorrows quickly: drinking or sex, and there was no bottle in sight. But first they had to sort out this fucking errand.

She left him alone to analyse the room, while she lured their prey there. Half drunk, Corbel was easy to spot, bragging about his financial situation and his plans for the future. A few coins in the right hand prompted one of the servants to hint that the Merchant Prince's envoy had some interesting business to propose, requesting a private meeting to give him a message. The damned fool let himself be led into the trap, meek as a lamb, without even warning his guards. No doubt he received a message in the form of a dagger that severed his carotid artery before he knew where the blow had come from. Blood soaked the floor, the expensive carpet. Both Crows left the room without the slightest disturbance.

"It'll be a while before they find out. Do you still want us to look for some extra reward? A liquid one, perhaps?" She knew they were taking an extra risk, but the truth was that it had been so simple, so quick, it was insulting. Velasco was right: it was a bullshit contract to keep them both entertained and nothing more.

Cuervo pondered his response for a pensive moment, “Actually, yeah, fuck it. Like you said, no one's gotten suspicious just yet. Most of them are far too drunk to be cognisant. I don't think they could put two and two together right now.”

“I remember I saw a study earlier, perhaps we could go through it?” Alecto threw a thumb over her shoulder in the rough direction of said room, “Who knows, it might have just what we're looking for.”

“Sweetheart, it better or else this is gonna be a long night.” Velasco put far too much emphasis on ‘long’ for it not to sound downright depressing. The fluctuating moods that he'd been sporting all day aiding in that fact.

She let out a devious giggle, “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. The best nights are really long, it just depends on the company,” Alecto smirked, her voice playful “or the activity.” Velasco lets out a lighthearted chuckle at that as they begin to head towards the study. Oh she is going to be a handful. Velasco thought to himself. And by the time she's finished with me, she might just be. He's seen how Alecto operates. And he can't wait to see where this will go.

The short walk from the previous room to the study was layered in a thick silence, both Crows lost deep in their own thoughts as they quietly crossed the carpeted floor to a locked door. Velasco dropped into a crouch and pulled out his lockpick. His fiddling with the lock was interrupted by the insistent tapping of Alecto's boot. “Do you mind? I'm trying to concentr-”

“Ugh! You're taking too long just. I'll do it.” Impatient, the mage signalled for him to step aside. A gentle flick of the wrist caused the mechanism to flicker red-hot, loosening the pieces and slightly scorching the surrounding wood. Once it cooled, it was extremely easy to kick it apart, sending several pieces of metal flying along with the shards of the lock pick. “See? We are now safe from boredom.”

“Hey! Those were new!” Velasco yelled, rising back up off of the floor.

“Don’t be so upset, love, It does not suit you at all.” Alecto purred, with a soft giggle. “I’ll get you a new set of lockpicks, promise.”

“There better be some good stuff in here after all of that.” The rogue grumbles as he pushes past Alecto and over the threshold of the now opened door. “I really liked that set. They felt nice, they had the right amount of heft to them.” He said turning towards his offender.

“Oh please, there are far better things that have the right amount of heft to them and you know it, sweetheart.” The mage purred as she gave him a flirty wink.

Velasco simply rolled his eyes with a slight quirk to the corner of his mouth at what she was clearly implying and walked over towards the desk sitting near the back of the room, beginning to rifle through the drawers, “Just look for our liquid reward and let's get out of here before we get caught. After that little magic trick of yours that might be sooner than we’d have liked.”

“Yes ser!” She replies with a mock salute and a smirk firmly pulling at the corners of her mouth, heading towards a round table sat in the bottom right corner of the room, picking up a small glass and examining it. Decidedly satisfied with her minor inspection she moves on to the bookshelves lining the wall on the left side of the room, “Who could ever need this many copies of the same book? What did this guy even do anyway?” She idly asks the room as her gloved fingers brush along the spines of each book before she settles on something interesting, “Ah ha!”

Velasco looks up with a snap, from the drawer he was currently sifting through, “You found something?”

“No. That's why I have a bottle of Ferelden Whiskey in my hand. Yes I found something!” Alecto was standing with a hand on her hip, the other holding up the bottle in question by the neck and giving it a little shake, the liquid inside sloshing around as she did so. “Did you find anything?”

“No. It's just random documents in-” He was interrupted by the sound of metal clinking against metal and the sounds of a muffled voice traveling through the corridor, “Is someone there?”

“Mierda.” Velasco whispers through gritted teeth as he quickly but quietly closes the drawer in the desk and fights to open a door to the side that leads out onto a balcony. Just as the guard sticks his head through the open door leading into the study the two just barely make it out and over the balcony railing before being spotted. “That was a close one.” Velasco breathed a heavy sigh as they slink into a narrow alley nearby to catch their breaths.

It was quite obvious that someone had discovered the body: guards could be heard everywhere, trying to find whoever had perpetrated the crime. Though the alley seemed safe, Alecto pulled Velasco into a considerably narrower and darker area. Partially hidden by the alley's junk and shadows, they were virtually undetectable, but in exchange the space was so tight that they were stuck to each other, with virtually no room to breathe.

"Fuck," Velasco's voice made it clear how annoyed he was at the situation, "this is what I get for listening to you. We could be comfortably away from here by now, but you had to start rummaging around."

He was right, of course, but after so many years with Viago it was very hard for Alecto to take a scolding seriously. "Darling, you need to relax a bit," she whispered, with a half chuckle "look on the bright side. We have drinks for later and now here we are, I can feel how glad you are to be so close to me." She slipped her hand down, at an indignant expression from her companion, but only to raise the bottle before her eyes " Oh dear, it was our booty. Too bad Cuervo, for a moment there I thought you liked me.”

Velasco's eyes could see the inside of his skull from how hard he rolled them. Anyone else would be at least a little intimidated, but Alecto wasn't exactly the type to back down. A facetious comment was on the tip of her tongue, but she preferred to save it for later. She lifted her head to listen, involuntarily tickling her partner's bare chest.

"Come on," she said, reassuringly, squeezing his hand, "they're far enough away that we can sneak away. There's a balcony nearby we can climb to, and from there to the rooftops, where you can snarl at me all you like."

Without waiting for a response and as quick as a squirrel, Alecto slipped under the man's body, giving him barely enough time to follow her. To his despair, Velasco found she was right: the timing was perfect. He watched her clamber nimbly between the ochre brick buildings, and before long they were both high enough to move unseen. Alecto crouched behind one of the chimneys, looking for the best place to go.

"Up there," she pointed the dagger at a steeple not far away. "That tower will keep us safe from prying eyes while we stall for time before returning to the inn. If they see two Crows appearing soon after they discover we've killed that idiot even they'll make the connection. Besides, carrying a full bottle is tiring. Let's see if emptying it a bit will take the edge off your bad mood, I'm beginning to think you're Viago in disguise."

She glanced sidelong at Cuervo, who, after a groan– suspiciously similar to the one his brother would emit– nodded, beginning to climb the tower with agility. Alecto shook her head, looking serious for a moment. They didn't know each other well enough, but even she knew that Velasco wasn't like that.

They climbed up the tower in a suffocating silence. There was a layer of tension between them and not the good kind. Not in this particular moment. Velasco had closed himself off again, a tired look in his remaining eye and a stiff set to his shoulders when Alecto had made it to the top. “Hey, quit your moping, Cuervo. What are you the Crows’ resident grump now? I thought that position was already taken by Viago.” She walks on over and joins him sitting at the edge of the rooftop. “Why don't we crack this baby open and-” she was interrupted by the rogue, her hand stopped unscrewing the cap off of the bottle mid-motion.

“Do you ever take anything seriously? Or can you only joke at the worst of times.” His voice is bitter, angry. He’s looking at her with a stern gaze, visibly annoyed.

She resumes her task of opening the bottle with a scowl. Taking the first swig, side eyeing Velasco all the while, and aggressively placing it in between them on the roof. “Ha, you bet. Not a serious bone in this body.” She gestures to herself, a self-deprecating tone lacing her words.

“Why are you like this?” Velasco stresses, grabbing the bottle as he does.

“Why am I like this? Why am I like this?! Well let's see, shall we,” she turns to look at him, a dangerous look in her purple-hazel eyes, “it happens to be my mechanism for coping with all of this shit. With a job that could kill anyone of us every single day, with waking up every fucking morning asking myself if this will be the day I die. With knowing I will never be enough not just for my boss but the man I've loved all my fucking life.” She exhales a heavy breath, snatching the bottle out from Velasco's hand with a mumbled “give me that” before taking a deep gulp of the amber liquid.

At that Velasco lets out an airy chuckle. “You remind me so much of who I used to be like.” He erupts into a slew of self-deprecating giggles. Alecto's prior fury with the rogue was swiftly replaced with concern. “I used to be all jokes and full of genuine happiness, especially around those who would tolerate me,” he blindly reaches out for the bottle, Alecto handing it to him without taking her eyes off of him, a furrow taking place between her brows. “Instead I've been left as this empty shell of who I was. Of who I was with him.” He raises the bottle to his lips, hesitation in the action.

"And to think that we would always make it out to the other side together. Every contract I was there. It was always us two looking out for each other. Protecting each other. Not this time, though,” he scrunched his eyes closed, willing the tears that were springing to the corners of his eyes away, “No. This time I wasn't there. I wasn't there because my dearest brother decided that I was needed elsewhere on a solo contract. One that would take weeks at best. And you want to know the funny thing?” The giggles returned for a fleeting moment, “I was only a trip away before he went on that contract. The contract that ended it all. That fucking contract! Andraste's tits I should have been there. I should have..."

Velasco finally takes a deep gulp of the amber liquid – the subtle burn as it slides down his throat, a welcoming feeling – the rim of the bottle resting against his plump lower lip before pulling it away and handing it back over to Alecto. "It doesn't matter. Not anymore. Nothing ever will.”

The resulting silence wasn't deafening, nor was it comfortable either. The two Crows were just sat there, the only sound filling the space between them was the sloshing of the bottle as they passed it back and forth between one another. Alecto let out a soft sigh before speaking again, decidedly less heated than before, "Vel, I cannot imagine how it feels to be in your skin right now. And just trust me, when I say I'm really sorry about what has happened to you. My own problems are simply stupid when compared to yours, but this doesn't make them easier for me. I just feel small and stupid. Worthless. As your brother has seen me all his life. I behave like this because if I break one day, if I start crying, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop anymore.”

She went to take another drink only to get the last remaining drop to hit her tongue. “Shit,” She deflates with a sigh, “looks like we're out.”

“We should be alright to head back to the inn now.” Velasco said, a smile slowly returning to his mouth. They were both decidedly tipsy at best and in need of more alcohol. “Come on, Trouble, let's get going. I'll even buy us the first round, what do you say?” Velasco stands and holds out an offered hand towards Alecto.

“Say no more, sweetheart, you had me at ‘buy’.” Alecto takes his offered hand, pulling herself up off of the rooftop. However, her footing was a little off causing her to tripp. Velasco caught her with an arm around her waist before she could fall, unintentionally pulling her against himself. “Thank the Maker for those quick reflexes, huh.” She was a little breathless and her adrenaline was running high from the near miss.

“You need to be more careful, cariño.” Velasco said in a whisper, momentarily lost in her eyes before pulling away slowly – almost hesitantly – as if he didn't want to let her go. He let out a small cough, clearing his throat, before repeating, “Let's get going.”

Velasco turned to begin climbing back down the tower while Alecto stood at the top, a bemused look on her face. “Was he flirting with me? Or am I more tipsy than I thought?” She muttered to herself, a blush blooming across her cheeks as she mentally shook herself from her thoughts. She then began to climb back down too.

“There she is! I was beginning to think you weren't coming.” Cuervo smiled bigger than he had all day. What is happening? Alecto had no idea what changed in him to act like this, but she wasn't complaining. It was nice, seeing him genuinely smile. It suited him very nicely if she did say so herself.

“And miss the opportunity of you paying for my drinks? Not gonna happen, big guy.” She smiled back at him as she passed, heading down the path. Velasco huffed a laugh to himself while shaking his head and proceeded to catch up with her with a jog.

“Hey, wait for me. I'm the one who's paying, remember, no point getting there before me.”

"Love, I can get there early and start drinking without you just waiting for you to come and pay the tab. Also I must warn you: It’s very hard to get me drunk.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that, Trouble. But it's not as fun without company.” Velasco had caught up with her, they were walking together, shoulder to shoulder.

She felt that she still had something else to say about their previous conversation “By the way, Cuervo” She looked directly into his gaze, to the eye that still could see her “I’m really sorry for bothering you before. I did not want to hurt you at all. Sometimes I’m a bit difficult to bear.” Alecto glanced down at their boots with a sigh, biting her lip as she thought over if she should do this. She decided that, fuck it, if it lead to something it did. And if it didn't, then so be it. She couldn't blame herself for not trying, right?

She slid her hand into Velasco's as they continued walking down the path that heads towards the inn. Velasco noticed a shift in Alecto's hand and gripped it tighter. “So, what other skills do you have aside from blowing up doors?” He asked, making idle conversation.

“You're never going to forgive me for breaking that set of lockpicks, are you?” She turned to look at him, feigning annoyance in her tone.

“Nope. Now answer my question, Trouble. You can't dodge it forever and you know it.” He biteed back, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Love, trust me I can and I will. But sure, I'll play along with you. Cuervo.” She purred his name and brought her free hand up to hide her smile behind it. “Well, as you, and surely every other member of our House, know, making Viago mad is a pretty good skill to have. Also, I can get into places practically unnoticed, which comes in handy with being an assassin, no?”

Velasco laughed at that, a genuine chuckle. He sounded so happy. “Surely that's not all you can do? Someone as talented as yourself has far more tricks up her sleeves than that.”

“You have no idea how many tricks I know, sweetheart. You just have to tell me which ones you want to see first.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder and gave him a blatantly flirtatious wink.

“Surprise me, cariño.”

“Oh, he was definitely flirting with me earlier on top of that roof.” She thought to herself, a light dusting of pink rising to her cheeks. “You don’t know who you are playing against, big boy.”

Sounds of muffled conversations reached their ears and before they knew they've returned to the inn. “Why don't you go on in and find us a nice and quiet place to sit, while I fetch us some drinks?” Velasco reluctantly slipped his hand out of Alecto's and started heading towards the main door of the inn.

As she walked in through the door after him she passed him by at the bar as he ordered their drinks. She heard the familiar sound of coin hitting the countertop as she sat down in a quiet corner of the inn. Velasco arrived in no time with a beer in one hand and a whiskey in the other. “For you, my lady.” He said in a playful manner, taking a sip of his drink as he sat down next to her, not across from her – like she might have expected. She took a sip of her own drink to somewhat hide her smile behind the lip of her mug.

“How'd you know what I'd want, anyway? I never told you.” Alecto raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the Crow next to her.

“I have my ways.” He said matter-of-factly. Alecto just looked back at him, raising her other eyebrow at his lack of answer. “What? Can I not have my own tricks too? Fine you've twisted my arm, I've seen you get one before in Treviso. I just presumed it was your go to drink.”

“So you've been spying on me? Not who I'd take you for, Cuervo.” She raised the mug back to her lips as she giggled at him, leaning over slightly and leaning against his arm.

“Hey! No. I- you cheeky little thing.” He nudged her boot lightly under the table, a grin on his face nonetheless. “Then just who do you take me for, darling? Or do I have to wait and find out?” He placed his mug down on the table and turned towards her, putting a hand on the arm raising her mug upwards and gently pushing it back down, her mug lightly clinking on the uneven surface of the round wooden table in front of them.

Alecto turned to look up at Velasco, their eyes meeting. Alecto was lost. She was lost far too deep in the rich dark brown of his eyes. Velasco, however, risked a glance at her slightly parted lips. He began to slowly lean in towards her, stopping just a breath away from her lips. “If you don't want this, then tell me to stop, okay?” His words ghosted over her lips as he spoke.

She made a shy smile, raising her hand to softly caress his lips “And this sudden change of heart? I do not want you to do anything you could regret later, even if I’m craving this.”

“The only thing I could possibly regret is not sharing this with you. I won't do anything that you're not comfortable with, that's not who I am, tesoro.” He looked into her eyes, his eyes pleading with her, making sure that his words were made clear.

She lowered her hands, placing them upon his exposed chest. Velasco took that as his invitation to lean in again, only hesitating for a breath, before pressing his lips to hers. It felt so natural– as if in another universe this would be a daily interaction between them– the sheer amount of emotion behind each kiss was breathtaking. They kissed slowly, unhurriedly, her hands on his chest playing with the silver necklace, his on her waist. Velasco parted his lips first allowing Alecto the option to explore his mouth, and explore she did. Their tongues were in a dance with one another as they both tasted each other hungrily.

Alecto pulled away first, breathing rapidly as her adrenaline kicked in, “I think we should take this upstairs, don't you?” She whispered, a soft but playful grin on her lips.

“I thought you’d never ask” His smile was dazzling, and talked using a husky voice that made her stomach tingle.

Holding hands they climbed the stairs to the second floor, to their room. Renting a shared chamber was a good idea for practical reasons – It was cheaper, a good cover and also neither of them were shy – but it turned out even better, given the situation.

Rather more occupied with savouring her lips, Velasco took a little longer than necessary to open the door. They stepped inside, their lips pressed firmly to each other's, barely allowing themselves a moment to breathe and shut the door behind them.

Though panting for more, Alecto paused for a moment.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, stroking her neck, her shoulders with one hand, while holding her tightly against him with the other. "Is everything alright or have you had second thoughts?”

She bit her lip, hesitant. She didn't want to break the charm of the moment for anything in the world, but some part of her needed to know that he was sure.

"No, it's not that," Alecto searched for the right words. "It's just that I don't quite understand the change of heart. A while ago you were so sad, and now..."

A broken smile peeked over the Crow's lips " Partly it's your fault." She frowned and tilted her head, letting him explain "You said it yourself, our life could end at any moment. I've learned that the hard way." A shadow of pain flashed in his eyes for a moment "That's exactly why I don't intend to leave anything to be done. And that, tesoro, includes spending this night you.”

Velasco leaned over her again, giving her a deep, intense kiss.

"Cuervo, I know I'm not Lucanis, nor do I pretend to be" Alecto leaned her forehead against his, "But I'm here for you. With you"

He let out a soft chuckle "And I know I'm not my brother. But here I am."

It was Alecto's moment to savour his lips in a tender kiss, looking into his eyes softly, "Of course you're not him. You make me smile.”

All questions resolved, the time for talking had passed. Alecto let her instincts guide her, sliding her tongue against his, her thumb slowly caressing his neck. Contrary to what they both might have initially expected, the kisses were slow, deep, enjoying all the sensations they could offer each other. Alecto let her lips wander along his jaw, noting the tingle of Cuervo's beard as she kissed him, then down his neck, noting how he held his breath and pulled her even tighter as the tip of her tongue reached a particularly sensitive area. That encouraged her to plunge her head deeper into that delicious neck, nibbling at it, until she reached just below his ear, where the moan that escaped Velasco's lips made it clear to her that she had found his weak spot. She focused on it, applying gentle pressure with her lips, noticing how the man trembled slightly with each kiss, moaning softly as his fingers dug into the flesh of her waist, urging her on.

As slowly as they took things, however, their bodies seemed to be moving in a markedly different direction. Velasco pressed his hips against hers, making her feel the increasing pressure inside his trousers, watching with satisfaction as she increased the intensity of her kisses as she squeezed against him.

Her fingers, previously simply fiddling with the chains that adorned his chest, slipped inside the openings of his shirt, caressing and scratching him gently as he bit her lower lip as he kissed her again. He wasn't one to stand still either: he himself began to unbutton her tight-fitting jacket, which in a matter of seconds fell messily to the floor, as did the shirt underneath.

Alecto then began to pull his shirt back, placing a soft kiss on his shoulders, his hands running down her back, the curve of her waist. Arching up a little to make his job easier, he released her for just a second to remove the chains from his neck. The opportunity seemed too good for her to pass up, and she quickly traded his shoulders for feather kisses across his wildly defined pecs, across his abdomen, making Cuervo shiver in anticipation. Not only that, but she allowed herself to slide her tongue marking every muscle, enjoying the moans that escaped the lips of Velasco, who was stroking her hair, sinking his fingers into the skin of her scalp.

"Fuck" he murmured, his voice breathy, "you're amazing.”

"No, mi amor" she said softly, as she unbuckled his belt with expert fingers, "the amazing is yet to come."

Still kissing his belly, his hips, Alecto pulled down his tight trousers, causing him to remove his boots and step out of them. The underwear still remained, but beneath it the perceived bulge made it clear to her the extent to which Velasco was eager to have her. She undid the ties quickly and released that trapped erection, its head red and wet with precum. He looked at her with his brown eye, engulfed in flames despite being completely naked in front of her.

"This isn't fair," Cuervo gasped, aroused at the sight of her kneeling in front of him "you can't still be half dressed and have me like this.”

"What's not fair," she whispered to him as she slowly ran her tongue along the top of his cock, making it squirm at the touch. Her purple eyes were locked on his, and Velasco held his breath "it's having me waiting when I want you so badly.”

With a soft moan, Alecto began to lick his entire hard-on, starting from the base and slowly working her way up, alternating kisses with the brush of her lips. Cuervo watched her do it, becoming even more aroused, knowing that even more precum was coming out of that raging head, which she eagerly licked, replacing it with saliva. Her hands began to masturbate him too, slowly at first, but increasing the pace and pressure. He writhed, panting loudly, moaning her name as he thrust his hips forward. A shudder ran through him as Alecto took his entire member into her mouth, reaching the back of her throat, which contracted involuntarily as it reached the deepest point. Not only was it her sucking and licking, but Velasco could hear her moaning, panting, seeing that she too was enjoying herself immensely as she savoured the tender flesh.

He had to lean against the wall to keep from falling, feeling his cock contracting inside her warm mouth, the tingle of her tongue fiddling with the head.

"Joder, cielo" Velasco wanted to say something to her, but was completely out of breath. It had been a while since he'd lost control of the moaning, lost himself in that gaze that kept rising to meet his own eyes repeatedly. No longer could he hold it in, and a gush of warm load filled that wonderful mouth, her throat, which she swallowed as if it were the most delicious delicacy in the world, so much so that some of it escaped from the corners of her mouth. Not only that, but in that moment of maximum sensitivity she gave herself to cleaning his cock eagerly, licking greedily as Cuervo struggled to catch his breath. He had orgasmed as intensely as he could remember for a long time, but continued to desire her just as he had the first time he kissed her in the tavern.

With a mischievous grin Alecto finally stood up, but he wouldn't let her take the initiative. He pushed her against the wall, perhaps a little more roughly than he intended, but the look she gave him and the way she bit her lip as she moaned seemed to please him. Velasco practically ripped off her bra, pulling it behind him carelessly, cupping her breasts with both hands just before he fiddled with those hardening nipples, his lips firmly pressed against hers, devouring her, tasting his own flavour mingling with hers. He moved down her neck, biting her hard, her hands stroking the back of his head and pressing her fingers between his shoulders, spurring him on, ever harder. He went further down, watching in pleasure as her neck showed several incipient scratches and love bites, as he took one of her nipples into his mouth holding the other breast in his hand, feeling her twist her body to seek him more, gasping and moaning, her eyes closed to enjoy his touch even more. He kissed the tender flesh first, but then began to suck in turn, drawing a cry from her that sounded like music in his ears.

Without relinquishing his hold, his hand slid to the belt, releasing it with ease, and in turn pushing the trousers down to the floor, accompanying his own clothing. He stroked her over her panties, feeling her wet, hot cunt, as Alecto held her breath as she felt his fingers working on her.

His cock was still hard, moist with cum and saliva, and he refused to let them wait any longer. He pulled down her underwear and, barely giving her time to step out of them, Velasco turned her around, inserting a finger first into that gorgeous ass, which tensed at his touch, while Alecto leered at him, her head leaning against the wall. Seeing those desire-laden purple eyes caused him to insert first a second and then a third finger, letting the orifice relax, adjusting to the contact. He fiddled with her insides, feeling her walls tighten in pleasure against his fingers.

"Cuervo." he heard Alecto say, between moans "Fuck me with all your might. Please.”

Hearing her pleading, begging, was all he needed. His hard dick pushed deep into her, feeling that delicious ass around him, while she couldn't suppress a loud moan, shuddering, leaning against the wall as he dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips, thrusting hard. He freed one of his hands to caress her burning clit, now without barriers, feeling her arch against him. Her pussy was soaking wet, the slick sliding down her thighs, and Velasco stroked it to moisten his fingers before continuing to rub her clit hard. She gasped, unable to close her mouth, a trickle of saliva cascading down the corner of her lips.

"Fucking Cuervo" Alecto leaned into him, bucking with every thrust, as he felt her squeeze harder and harder, "You're going to make me cum"

"Then do it, Trouble." He said, pressed against her ear, before kissing her neck "Come for me. I want to fill each and every orifice of your body with my cum.”

Alecto did not answer any more. Velasco increased the force with which he was thrusting, going deeper and deeper, guided by the increasingly loud moans of his lover until he felt her whole body tense, writhing against him in a pleasurable spasm, as he himself felt an identical cramp shoot down his back, his cock gushing cum, shooting several shots into her until it finally relaxed. Alecto remained leaning against the wall, catching her breath, as she looked up at him with an exhausted smile on her lips.

Velasco took her in his arms, her weight barely a minor burden, and carried her to the bed that occupied the centre of the room and which until that day they had not thought to employ in such activities. Both needed time to recover, and he lay down beside her as they lost themselves in each other's lips and caresses. He leaned back on his elbows to get a better look at her.

"In the end this crappy contract didn't exactly turn out badly for us" He let out a chuckle, kissing her softly "I think I'm going to ask my brother to send us to work together more often.”

Alecto was caressing his chest, his back, coquettishly biting her lip "Better you ask him. If I do it, Viago will suspect something and never let me near you again"

"I'll tell him then that you're a nuisance" Velasco covered her cheeks, her neck, with kisses "I think I'll take it as my own responsibility to make my dear Trouble a little more disciplined."

She couldn't help but laugh, rubbing her body against his deliciously, "Good luck with that. It may take you a very long time."

"A price I'm willing to pay." Velasco kissed her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth to caress hers, tracing curves with his fingers over her skin. Alecto was happy, relaxed in his arms, enjoying the intimate moment shared.

With a giggle and in the midst of one of his kisses, she rolled him onto his back, laying on top of him. Lying completely on top of him, Velasco felt her warm skin against his, their hands relentlessly pleasuring each other. His senses were completely overwhelmed by the touch, the smell of them both mingling with his sweat and his own arousal, and Alecto was quick to notice the familiar pressure against her thighs that indicated that Cuervo was not yet completely done.

Without breaking her lips from his, she slid down a little, placing her legs on either side of him, causing him to lift her hips. "Amor mío,” Velasco sank his face into her neck, into the dark hair, whispering as he spoke to her, in a voice that made her skin crawl "you are completely insatiable."

Alecto let out a giggle and then stood up a little, feeling his cock slowly enter her, how it immediately got harder, ready for them. She began to move back and forth very slowly, riding him, feeling Cuervo's fingers sinking into her hips. Each movement stimulated the sensitive spots inside her, and she couldn't help biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, her eyes fixed on his, panting, feeling that cock twisting inside her as her own walls squeezed.

He was trying to keep up with her movements, getting himself deeper into her, both of them overwhelmed by the growing pleasure. She couldn't, and wouldn't, slow down, and his hands were pushing her to tell her that he wanted to fill her up even harder. Her fingers, initially resting on his chest, clawed at those tight muscles under the stimulation, feeling Velasco's heart beating uncontrollably, as fast as her own pulse. Cuervo released one hand and stroked her neck, moving up to her lips, which he caressed with his thumb. Alecto couldn't help but kiss the tips of his fingers, licking them, as her pressure continued to increase. The rhythm was no longer steady, but instead she was riding him wildly, as if trying to tame a stallion that was bucking against her body. Alecto's body trembled, with Velasco writhing beneath her, and they both came at practically the same time, his cum mixing with her own release, his fingers firmly digging into the skin around her waist. After their orgasm they moved just a little more until his penis, finally relaxed, came out of her along with their combined juices, which flowed down her thighs and left a small rim on the sheets. Alecto dropped onto him, completely satisfied, both drenched in sweat. Her fingers brushed the scars on his face, as she looked up to meet those dark, kind eyes, looking at her with a warmth she hadn't seen many times before.

"How long do you think it will be before they know the job is finished?" she asked, mischievously "For some reason, I'm in no great hurry to get home."

"Little one, if you think you're going to be out of my sight as soon as we get back to Treviso," Velasco interrupted himself to place a gentle kiss on her lips "Trust me, you're dead wrong.”

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

this is without a doubt the weirdest thing I have ever done

SALUTATIONS, HELLAVERSE FANDOM! 

You probably don't know me, but my name is Godfrey. (Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!) 

To be quite honest, I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here. As I type this, I'm unspeakably nervous.

"Why are you nervous, Godfrey?" I hear you ask.

Well...

I have a dream

I'm here to tell

About a fanfic I wrote for Hazbin Hotel 

(sorry)

Okay okay serious director voice from now. 

Look, this is gonna sound absolutely unhinged, but hear me out. (insane rambles under the cut, this bitch is LONG)

In April, a friend and I had a conversation about a song I wrote and how it was. Well, kinda coded to Vox and Valentino.

Then one thing led to another, and two-and-a-bit months and twelve thousand words later, I had written an absolutely sprawling shitshow of a fic (details later in the post)

Even as I was writing it, I knew the written word didn't do it justice.

Hence, this post. 

(golly, this sounds really demanding, I am so sorry)

Fuck it, my mom always says "if you don't ask you don't get", and for once I want her to be right.

This is, I suppose, a sort of... call to action, for lack of a better term.

Artists, animators and voice actors, I'd like your help to turn this fic into an animatic, or if we can manage it, an actual animation.

ONLY if we can manage it, not if it's gonna stress anyone out.

IMPORTANT NOTE

Just to get this out of the way, not that I should even need to say this but it's unfortunately 2024. If anyone even SUGGESTS using A.I. your ass is getting blocked. I don't fuck with that artificial bullshit.

On to my next point: I am unequivocally in support of artists and actors being paid for their work. 

However, I am a Broke Bitch. Unless we could somehow do crowdfunding or something, I physically would not be able to pay people. This makes me feel like a very shitty person, but unfortunately it's the truth, and I want to be upfront and honest about that.

This is why I hope to get as many people on board as possible for this project, so nobody has to do a shit-ton of work.

I understand that most of you are busy, with work, school/college, or life generally life-ing. Join the club, my life is hectic too.

This is why I really have no set deadline for this. Whether it takes a few months or a few years, as long as it's done well with a minimal amount of stress.

Well, now that that's out of the way, time to go into details a bit.

Characters in order of appearance (this is mainly for VAs)

Vox

Valentino

Velvette 

Angel Dust

Charlie

Husk

Alastor

Vaggie

Lucifer

Niffty

Sir Pentious

Asmodeus (yeah this is slightly a Helluva Boss crossover)

Frank (the egg boi)

Fizzarolli

Katie Killjoy

Tom Trench

And lastly, depending on what everyone else thinks, I have an idea for how Verosika and Zestial can be involved. 

Will there be musical numbers?

The short answer is YEAH, cause Hazbin is a musical. I cannot stress enough how much the music is My Problem. Literally, apart from people singing, I will take care of that.

My Idea Of The Process 

(please bear in mind I have little to no idea of how the animation process works so this is almost definitely wrong, please feel free to correct me about it)

Step 1. Storyboard

Step 2. Voice lines and songs get recorded

Step 3. Animatic (this could very well end up being as far as it gets and that is absolutely cool beans)

Possible Step 4. Animation

Finally, I'd be more than happy to be the one to edit all the clips together. Editing is its own kind of hell, and I'm totally willing to take one for the team.

The Vision

This is. (fffffff) this is the part that's gonna make me sound like a Draconian jerk but I promise I don't mean to come across this way.

I'm hoping to have something that's as close to the style of the show as possible. (this video kinda has the right vibes) This is so the final project will look cohesive and somewhat professional. (god that probably sounded so bad but I genuinely have no idea how else to say it)

TO BE ABSOLUTELY CLEAR. I have nothing against artists with other distinctive art styles, in fact I've come across several that I absolutely love.

Regarding The Writing

I've never directed anything before, so forgive me if this is crossing a line, but like. 

I have my vision for how I want this to go and I'm kind of. not overly flexible on that. Obviously ideas that people have to get this to work good are more than welcome, but they might not end up happening.

Not to be a dick, but I am sorta the director so I do kinda get to make the call on that stuff. (ew god that felt odd)

If this gets off the ground, I'd have to turn this 12,000 word fic into a script to make it easier for people to read it and not get bogged down by my weird old-fashioned poetic style. This would be sent out to people who express interest at some point.

Just a heads-up: If you're expecting an AO3 link I am so sorry but it's Google Docs, mainly because this thing is wildly self-indulgent and I, for one, do not fancy attracting potential haters. Most people are nice, some are very vocally not. Besides, what would be the fun if everyone knew the story in advance?

BASICALLY

If you're interested shoot me an ask and I'll answer privately (OFF anon pls, I wanna know who I'm workin' with here!) or DM me and I'll get back to you.

If you see this and know someone who'd be interested, feel free to tag them or send this post to them.

I am gonna tag @achilleanauthor (my right hand man over here) @emeraldcity1900 and @onesidedradiostatic as they're kind of the only blogs I know who are I guess. Active in the Hellaverse fandom.

If this gains enough traction and I get people on board, I'll be setting up a Discord server (another first for me). 

Watch this space, and as Alastor would say, "Stay tuned..."

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Eleven

Written in Plain Sight

A/N:

Tysm for your patience with this one. May is a difficult month for me for personal reasons. I’m still writing and I’m so excited for you guys see where this heads. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Dear Slash,

Im sorry I didn't write you sooner. Things have been a little crazy since I got home. Well, not home actually. My parents have turned me in to this special all girls Christian school that specializes in "troubled young women". Apparently they can legally do that even though I've just turned 18! I never agreed to it, they just left me here. In the middle of nowhere- with these weird nuns. They haven't told me how often mail is sent out so I'm not sure how often I'll write, but I promise I will.

I'm sorry how I left things. I didn't know they were coming to take me home. I tried to say goodbye but they gave me no chance. Please forgive me. This summer was the best time of my whole life. Because I met you.

I know letters are a little prehistoric these days, but I've no access to a phone here. Again, I promise to write often. I'll call you as soon as I'm out.

Love, Foxey.

-

Dear Slash,

I'm not sure if you are receiving my letters. If you are and just don't want to speak to me, I understand that. I know mail can take a while... anyways. I figured writing to you helps me pass the time here. This place is awful. It's been 2 weeks of hell. I was forced to detox from everything. It's been so hard. I hardly sleep at night. But when I do, I am so happy because I dream of you. I also daydream a lot. It helps me get through the day. The days are long and boring. There's not really a curriculum here. Even though they call it a school. The nuns are mean. They took away all my clothing and I have to wear a white dress everyday and every night. It's cold and uncomfortable. Each day consists of the same thing. They wake you up at 6 am every fucking morning. It's barely light out. Then you have to clean your room. If you can only eat breakfast if you pass morning room inspection. I've failed 5 times so far...

Anyways. Sorry. I don't mean to complain to you. I don't have anything exciting to write about. I hope you have having very exciting experiences in LA still. Please write me when you can... I want to know how you are!

Love, Foxey

-

Slash,

Today was horrible. Just horrible. I'm sorry to write you only my miseries, but it feels like that's all I have left lately. Turns out, if you don't comply with every single whim and precision- even making the wrong face, or the tone of your voice, the nuns will be violent with you. They carry rulers, books and at times, even their bare hands- are weapons. I can't exactly remember what I did first to step out of line, all I remember was sister Agatha (she's a total bitch) slapping me so hard across the face, the stinging lasted for hours. I cried a little but only in private. I don't think I want to let them see me cry. I don't want them to know they have that power!

I still wait for your reply. I hope you are well.

Love, Foxey.

-

Hi There,

It's been a while. Sorry for that. I don't have much different to say to you. Or much at all. I think I get your message from your silence. If it all meant nothing to you after all, then so be it. I think maybe I belong here anyways. It's best for everyone. I want to let you know it really hurts me to accept that you are done with me. With us. Just like that. But I respect your decision- even if it's shitty. Maybe that's all rockstars are is shitty. So there. You're shitty and I wish we never met. I hope you're happy.

Best of luck with everything. I love you.

Y/N.

-

And just like that. It was over. The silence from Slash over the past two months was only an added pain to the hell you already endured. For your own sanity, hope was crushing you and you had to give it up. Your parents had called once, but the nuns ensured you weren’t telling them the truth of what it was like there. As quickly as it all unraveled, you sank into your new reality. Pushing out thoughts of escape as the former attempts were futile and had only ended in harsher and harsher punishment .

It was colder now into early November. Other girls had come and gone periodically, none staying long enough for it to be worth harboring any sort of relationship. You spent your days in the day room, a dim, sulky living room type space in the center of the building. Empty tables with broken chess pieces and puzzles with missing pieces scattered. You took throne to an old green chair by the large window.

One person you had managed to form any sort of connection with was the oldest nun in the practice, Sister Graham. She seemed worn down and tired of it all, due to her age, and lack of violence and stern, she’d been demoted down to a secretarial duty. She’d find reasons to come and talk to you when she could. Small but meaningful conversations. The two of you formed a secret bond of hatred for this place. A mutual understanding that this was all that was left for both of you. She’d share bits of her life before she became a nun. She had been sent away at the age of 16 after running away from an arranged marriage to a man 20 years her senior at the time. You felt sad for her, sorry for her, confused as to why she remained here. You told her about your past, how you ended up there. You even opened up to her about Slash and the magical summer you had. She seemed to appreciate the glimmer that became of you when you spoke of it all. Like she understood what it meant to feel young and in love. What it felt like to feel misunderstood and suffocated by the normalcy of the world. She made you feel special amidst it all. And then, one day, she was gone. You waited all week for her to show.

You prodded at nuns all morning as to where she was, “did she die?” “Did she retire?” “Is she sick?” You skipped around. Each question was met with harsh and rude snaps of silence and threatening looks. The confusion and hurt flatlined you again. Back to nothingness. You shifted in bed, staring at the ceiling, images of Slash, summer, everything, bleeding through your mind like a movie. The anger of his silence, the hurt, the betrayal, all of it stung within you so badly. Allowing it to get to you, you angrily chuck your pillow to the other side of the room with a frustrated sob. Feathers bust out of the pillow, completely ruining it. You came to your senses quickly with regret and knelt over the pillow to pick up the discarded feathers. You hadn’t changed your pillow case this week, and now you’ve broken the pillow altogether. Great. It was sure you’d get punished for this in the morning. Your hand brushes against a piece of paper as you sift through the feathers. That’s odd- where did this come from? You pick it up and it appears to be a small folded note. You take a precautious look at your door before unfolding it.

“R. 308

Nov. 21. 8pm to west wing parking lot.”

What the hell? You don’t recall writing this down. This was clearly stuffed in your pillow case. When? Why? What does it mean? Did someone put this here? Your heart beat with confusion, apprehensive to feel any sort of excitement at fear of being disappointed again. It was late, and there was seldom to do with this new information except to sleep on it. So you did.

Surely enough, as you had predicted, the nuns took notice of your destroyed pillow and sentenced you to janitorial duties for the entire day. You scrubbed away at the hallway at the end of the wing. Dragging your bucket of dirty water like a gross companion. You grumbled to yourself as you mopped. Suddenly a sister enters the hallway from out of a room and almost slips on the fresh wet floor. She gives a stabbing glare.

“Well hurry it up and get it finished so you’re not such a hazard girl.” She snarks as she walks away. You want to bark back but you know better. The room she had left was left cracked. You stared at the door with curiosity before noticing the room number plaque before you .

“Room 308”.

Wait a minute. R308? Like the note? You take yet another precautious glance behind you to the empty hall to ensure no one would see you now sneak yourself into the room.

Surely there’s something of importance in here? It appeared to be some sort of administrative office. Piles of papers decorated the entire room. You strolled around carefully eying everything. This is a mail room, this is all mail? This is all patient mail, no? It is. How interesting? Why’s there so much in here? Your eyes scan and roll over a large stack prominently sticking out of a box on the desk. You recognize the stationary and realize it to be some of your own letters to slash. What the hell? You start shuffling through the box in a greater panic and confusion. These were all supposed to be sent out, sent to Slash! Were none of them ever mailed?! Your heart dropped to your stomach and your chest tightened.

You wanted to stay longer, to further examine and investigate this, but the reality was clear. No letters written had been sent to anyone. They lied. You hurriedly skimmed through the pile to see if any had come in from Slash but you only saw the ones you wrote. All of them opened too. They’ve just been reading them and keeping them….

Before you could sulk, you quietly exited the room to ensure no one saw you sneaking in there. Clearly you were not supposed to know this. Rage, Hurt, Confusion, coiled inside you once more. All this time? Out of all the emotions rushing through you at that moment, the scariest one was now hope. Hope again filtered into you. Maybe Slash had never ignored you. Maybe he just didn’t know where to write!

After returning to your room that evening, you re read the obscure note once more.

“Nov 21”

That’s tomorrow. Nov 21st is tomorrow. Someone wants me to go to the west parking lot at 8pm tomorrow. But who? And why?

[tigers1o1]

Sit with me for a moment while I talk about writing, and growth. (And if you're a beginner to any creative hobby, I urge you to listen)

A few years ago, at the start of my fanfiction writing journey, I joined a discord server that was for fans of a specific fairly popular fanfiction. There were many writers in the server, not just the one that created the server. I didn't really write fanfiction upon joining this server, but it only took a month and a half for them to encourage and convince me to start writing. This was almost 4 years ago and I've been writing fic ever since (I've been writing for much longer, though)

One of the things I most vividly remember from my time on this server was when I was talking to the creator about how she was writing this absolutely massive fic (i believe its currently at 500k words, but at the time of this conversation it was still around 80k). And I remember asking her, "How do you write such long fics? No matter how hard I try, I can only barely manage to pass 10k." and she said,

"I don't know. One day I just did it, and now I can't stop writing long fics."

For 2 and a half years, I never really understood. I didn't get how a switch could just flip and suddenly you can do it. That is until November of last year, when I started writing a silly little modern au that suddenly surpassed 10k. And I was 2/5 chapters done. And then the third chapter alone was 12k. And the 4th? 16k on its own. The fic ended up being 47k words total. I have no idea how I did it, and I'm not here to brag, but it's also one of my proudest works.

What I am here to talk about is how it happened just like how my old friend described it. One day, the fucking spirit of little gay boys possessed me and I wrote way more than I ever had previously. And now? I'm currently writing my 4th planned longfic. It just surpassed 10k, but I'm expecting it to be 60k. And after this, I'm going to finish another long fic that's already my favorite thing I've ever written (it's about half finished at the moment). I haven't written anything under 10k in a while.

And something very similar happened with my art. I've been drawing for nearly 10 years. And one day, I drew something that suddenly, after years of what I thought was shit, I was proud of. And sure, I've made shitty drawings since then and my skill has regressed at times, but I woke up one day with the ability to make something I was proud of.

I'm not trying to give you the impression that one day you'll just magically have the ability to do what you're dreaming of. However, if you work at something and you don't stop, even when it sucks and you can only write a few hundred words, one day, you'll be able to look at your work and see something you're proud of. And you'll think, "Now how did that happen?" because at some point you stopped trying to get to your goal, and you just started enjoying the process.

That 47k fic was born of a pairing I loved, and it was written for someone I loved. And I started enjoying the process of creation, rather than thinking about how good I wished I was.

If I leave you with nothing else, I hope that one day you'll wake up and find that you are capable of the things you want to achieve.

[animalinvestigator]

any manga recommendations?

yessss oh my gosh always, gladly. so honored you would ask little ol me about such a thing... i haven't been reading much lately so here's just a little list of things ive picked up in the past few months or things i've liked for a long time..... all of them are on mangadex so just look em up... Im editing this to put them under the cut sorry i didn't do it before ive been on the clock for like 4 hours and im tired Lights cigarette

fool night yasuda kasumi !!! it's currently ongoing and i recently got caught up... if i had to describe it in two words.. "post-chainsawman." it's very similar in a lot of ways, but has very different priorities.. what i really like about it is that it has kind of a tighter focus on the "poverty and capitalism" angle that chainsawman definitely covers but doesn't really devote its full attention to. in a world where the sun no longer shines, plants can't grow, so humans are constantly at a deficit of oxygen... to combat this, government facilities offer a payout to desperate people who can't afford to live if they allow themselves to be "transflorated" -- basically fed on by a magical spiritual plant that will eventually kill them and release oxygen in their stead. one such desperate person undergoes the procedure only to find he has the special ability to communicate with transflorated bodies after theyve passed... and then he becomes a Plants Detective and shenanigans ensue. Super good it made me cry... art is beautiful..... definitely worth a read if youre looking to pick up something ongoing

babel no toshokan by tsubana - stumbled upon this after reading the artist's other work "wakusei closet" on a whim... this shorter story is much preferred and has engraved itself deeply on my heart. a girl with a strange set of beliefs about reality enters a strange relationship with a boy who can read everything that's ever been written just by touching an identical sheath of paper..... seriously so good. give it a go if you want something short and sweet

planet laika & scorched earth of love by mayuri yoshida, this is a short manga and one shot bundled with it that has been one of my favorites for like FOUR YEARS NOW!!! mayuri yoshida's sickly cute animal people + loving intricate lineart combine to create a really unique visual aesthetic. its about the titular laika , as in, the dog launched into space, who has since become the ruler of a planet of dogs, and her plot to take revenge on humanity. also she has a lesbian wife. the one shot is so good too SO DONT MISS IT!!!

anyone who has heard me talk about comics for the past year or so probably knows i've been trying to get Just yknow everybody on earth to read dead dead demon's dedededestruction by inio asano. nothing i could ever possibly say about it could do it justice it's seriously my favorite manga of all time. it's about being in love with your best friend and the end of the world and aliens and politics and the internet and stuff. asano's art is truly breathtaking and unlike anything else on earth, the characters are all infectiously lovable, and it's just like... endlessly life affirming and heals my heart in a way i have a hard time articulating.

and last one... not strictly manga but i have really enjoyed keeping up with wanan's webcomic no home recently... its a long one, but i read about 275 chapters of it in like 3 days, because it's that hard to put down, LOL... extremely inspiring character writing and also just insanely fun, eunyung became an all time favorite character of mine on impact and it has one of those casts where you can't help but have fun watching them be together in literally any situation. it's about a bunch of kids with shitty family situations trying to figure out to learn to live with eachother. its an extremely good example of mundane character drama being written so compellingly that it will make you start slamming your head on walls at work. Speaking from experience.

miscellany... everyone tells you to read witch hat atelier, do it its good... everyone tells you to read dungeon meshi do that its good... Chainsaw man part 2 is getting crazy right now ...... uhhh... i have a billion more so if none of those interest you let me know and i'll share more. thank yew so much for your interest in my opinions and i hope there's something here you can appreciate!!!~~

[mactiir]

something strange happens when you do a thing every day just because you believe it matters. Cuz on day -900 an election result comes back that makes you realize you can't live another day without giving back to the world and you start looking for a career change.

Day 0: is teacher school orientation and it's terrifying. The people around you seem blisteringly competent, too smart to keep up with. You don't know half the words coming out of their mouths. Eventually you can fake the classes and wonder if the whole career will be like this, a fake it till you make it kinda deal. Think maybe you can at least pretend to be good at it.

Day 1: you walk onto the job and u realize that the people who made it look easy made it look that way not because it WAS easy, but because they were very very good. Not pretending to be good. Legitimately VERY good. And for you, who is not good, the job is very very very hard.

Day 100 you walk out crying because you're not cut out for this.

Day 314 too. And days 585, 586, 587 (that was a hard week). You never quite identify with being "a teacher". Teaching is just a thing you do for a paycheck.

Somewhere around day 660 you start talking at a staff meeting and realize that, somehow, you now sound exactly like the people who intimidated you so much at the start. Like an actual bonafide teacher.

Day 800: a kid who screamed at you fifteen days before shakes your hand and thanks you for a great year -- the same one who pulled you aside to quietly discuss gender identity a few months back, because he wasn't sure who else to talk to. You get notes sincerely thanking you for teaching them how to be better at something they hated. A kid who didn't talk for 90 straight days because they were so shy causally tells you about a picture they drew you. A boy who can't use his chosen name with his parents and had never written a story before your class shows you the outline for the novel he's writing about a group of trans vampires.

There was a shitty ex, once, who loved to turn her cruelties around. Tell you that you were the bad one, the abuser, the manipulator. She doesn't live in your head anymore, or so you thought, but on the last day of school, day 800, when a student asks why you're crying, all you can think is i did a good thing. I did a good thing. I don't know if I'm good at this but I think I did a good thing. I made a kid smile. I gave a kid a safe place to be themself. I was, for a shining instant, the person i needed when I was their age.

What you say, though, is, "I'm just gonna miss you guys, is all."

[kaija-rayne-author]

I'm seeing something rather disgusting. I'm not sure if it's just in the DA Fandom or if it's everywhere.

Let me preface this by saying that I'm vehemently against the use of AI for writing/art/creativity.

I don't use it. I don't approve of its usage. I've been very outspoken about this from the beginning.

And WTAF is wrong with the people who are picking on fanfic writers for supposedly using AI?

Why, because they write fast?

Long post, rest under the cut.

I know how writing works, I can recognize AI written shit pretty easily because I've seen so much of it. I'm a professional author and editor and have been for almost 15 years (writing for 32).

So it's possible I write faster than some. But even when I was starting out for professional writing, back in 2013 (y'know, before you could pay a company for a program based on stolen material to write (shit) for you, so you actually had to write your words yourself?)

I wrote 275k in a month for a nanowrimo (RIP). I had been sitting on that story for a while, so it was obviously ready to be written, but a high word count doesn't automatically mean AI wrote it for fuck's sake.

Neither does it being without typos/few typos. There's these cool programs that can check spelling and grammar for you. Beta readers exist. Editors exist.

Oh, and here's a shocker! If you do something a lot, like, for example, write, you get better at it! What a revolutionary thought! Write a lot, get better at it! Who knew practice helped with a skill.

I do not at all agree with someone 'finishing' someone else's fanfic with AI, that's not okay either.

But why the actual fuck are people bothering fanfic writers about it?

No fanfic writer makes money on it. (Hell, most professional writers make less than 10k a year.) It's illegal to make money off of fan fic and fan art (yes really) because ff writers write using someone else's IP (intellectual property).

Because it sounds like AI? Would the ones attacking fic authors even recognize it? I doubt it.

Why? The reason some fanfic sounds like AI is because most currently available AI illegally scraped Ao3 and other sites to train those awful things. It's not that fic writers are generally using AI, it's that AI often sounds like fanfic because that's what they trained it on.

And again, why fic authors? That's like taking a cool gift they handmade themselves and offered to the community for free, and you come in and shit all over it.

WTAF is wrong with y'all? And who the fuck appointed you the AI police in any case?

You getting paid for that or are you just being dickcheeses to people writing for something they love and offering others a story for free because... why? Exactly?

I write every word of everything I publish myself. Why would any decent writer use shitty AI anyway? Ff writers know the techbros stole from Ao3 and other fanfic sites, know they're still stealing. So why on this earth would ff writers support that? It never turns out anything truly usable, it gets sooooo much wrong. And a lot of fanfic writers write for practice. There's no practicing a skill by using AI. None.

Knock it off, grow the fuck up, and go find something productive to do.

Because you know what behavior like that will do, right? Is already doing!

You do, right?

It will make fic writers stop writing. Or if they don't stop writing, they'll definitely stop publishing for free online. I've already talked to people who are considering this if/when they get attacked.

Is that what you want? Because this is basic cause and effect.

As I write this, I'm figuring it's just a matter of time before I get dinged by the same accusation. If I didn't get hit because I write fast and well (I was a traditionally pubbed author until I ran screaming as soon as I got my rights back) of course I write well. It'll probably happen now because I dared say something to point out a rather nasty problem. There are actually a lot of professional, traditionally published authors who write fanfic. Because it's fun and relaxing and good practice.

Oh, no. I dared say something about people being shitheads. Woe. Oh woe. /s (Certainly not the first time and probably not my last for that.)

There are some people out there who actually have fun attacking others. I pity those people deeply. They absolutely need therapy and a huge shot of self-awareness.

But it's really simple. If you appreciate fanfic, stories written with love because a writer wants to, then offers free to the world, and want it to continue? For fanfic to continue to be available? If you see someone accusing a fic author of using AI? You have to nip it in the bud, make sure people are very aware that it's socially unacceptable.

Just like we need to be making it clear to the techbros that what they've done and continue to do is also not acceptable.

This isn't even a worthy topic of discussion. AI is a no. Regardless. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Until/unless these asshole companies start paying the writers of the material they steal (violating copyright) fair market value, there can be no ethical usage of AI.

Attacking fanfic writers especially, but even pro writers for using AI is also a no.

Don't go around accusing innocent people of something that in the writing world is an awful thing to be accused of because AI sounds a lot like fanfic.

And worst case scenario, you truly think a fic author is using AI, just don't read it? Ignore it? Block the author? Fic writers thrive on interaction and community, no interaction and they may very well stop writing, anyway. What's the point for a fic writer to go through the extra work to publish something if there's no reward for it? No community interactions, no comments, no shares or reblogs. Fanfic writers are writing for themselves anyway, why bother doing the hours of extra work if there's no community interaction? Writing is really hard work, y'know? Why add to it?

Think an author is selling AI shit? Don't buy it, don't read it, don't recommend it. No sales will rapidly correct those authors.

They stole fanfic to make it! Of course it sounds similar!

Oh, and those 'plagiarism checkers based on AI?' One, they're inaccurate as fuck. And Two? Might have a higher than average % of 'oooooo, my stolen words tell me this has been plagiarized' because they were trained on the words they say were plagiarized.

It's like a bad circular dream. Techbros robbed authors of their work, illegally violating copyright. Then people accuse honest authors of using programs most legitimate writers won't touch, to do the writing for them? You know the writing is the fun part, right? And now people are using those plagiarized words to prove plagiarism with the same programs that robbed copyrighted work in the first place?

Do you see how utterly ridiculous this is?

I'll just laugh, delete your comments, and get on with my day if you try it with me, FWIW. It's pathetic behavior from pathetic people. I won't let it bother me a single second. And because I actually do write everything myself? I can prove it with multiple drafts of the same piece as it was written. I back them up in several places.

TBH, I think it would take something. I don't know what, to keep me writing and publishing my fic after the past couple weeks anyway.

Fanfic writers are already quitting because of lack of community interaction, now there's worries of being accused of using AI? It's already driving fanfic writers away from doing it.

It's on your heads if people stop.