#i love them so much i need to get my grubby little hands on the book again

[partiallysame]

The 141 teases Gaz about your pet name for him and now you gotta fix it

Soap heard you call Gaz “Kyle Baby” once. One time. And he gripped his grubby hands on the name. No longer calling him Gaz or Garrick. Only Kyle baby. He did it so much the rest of the 141 picked up on it. Ghost saying “here you go Kyle baby” when handing Gaz anything and Price even referred to him as “Kyle baby boy” once and Soap hit the ground laughing so hard. Did it bother Gaz? Yes absolutely but the worst was when he was trying to explain the name to the 141 over drinks one night. Each large man had one too many to drink and were a giggling mess as Gaz fought for his life defending you and “Kyle baby”

“What are ye just a wee lad?” MacTavish was losing his shit over his own comment.

“Noooo” Gaz whined back “she says it different. Says it all sexy like” This immediately prompted all three men to repeatedly say ‘Kyle baby’ in their sexiest (drunkest) voices. “Fuck you lot. If you heard it you’d know. The way she says it, it’s like she’s just asking me to take her to bed and the pretty bird knowwwsss it too. Uses it against me she does.”

Unbeknownst to his team, Kyle had texted you to come get him (come prove his point). When you texted you were there, Kyle ran out front to meet you. You thought he was getting in the car but he was pulling you towards the bar’s entrance. Trying to explain what he wanted you to do.

“Kyle Garrick. You want me to what?”

“You know loves. Just say it like you do when you want me to give it to ya good.” That comment earned him a slap on the arm.

“You want me to seduce your team? Am I understanding that right?” His large drunk frame is looking down at you, giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes he knows you can’t resist.

“Not seduce. Just say their names and work the lads up a little. Been teasing me for weeks about ‘Kyle baby’. Need them to understand. At least just MacTavish. Stupid fucking bloke won’t let it go.” He had pulled you into his chest as he tried to convince you to go along with his plan. You just stared at him but with a final “please baby. I really will give it to ya good if you do this.” Rolling your eyes you agreed and were immediately pulled into the dark bar. Kyle situated you on an empty stool and motioned for you to stay.

“MacTavish.” Kyle had his hand out pointing to his squad member. “The little lady’s got something to say to ya.” All of a sudden the soldier is walking towards you and this is real. Cursing yourself for agreeing to this because what the fuck are you supposed to do.

“What can I do ye for” Johnny was standing in front of you and you motioned for him to sit on the stool next to yours.

“Heard youve been making fun of my Kyle” You stood up to stand in front of him, making the height difference much more in your favor.

“He tattle on me did he?” Soap cocked his head to the side, curious about where this was going. Stepping a little closer so your body was just in between his (man)spread legs.

“You know Johnny. If you had a girl at home willing to suck your cock” Soap choked on his spit the second the vulgar words came out of your mouth. “I don’t think you’d be complaining about any nickname she chose for you.” Soap was trying to regain his composure but the look in your eyes shifted, all of a sudden these big innocent bedroom eyes were staring at him as you leaned in a little more to get closer to his face. “Right Johnny baby?” The breathyness of your voiced paired with this barely heard whine coming from your lips made his mind go blank. It took every ounce of self control he had not to just take you right there in front of the whole fucking bar, your boyfriend included. You stepped back away from him and turned to Kyle who was already laughing at the look on Soaps face but absolutely lost it when you shook out your body like you had the chills and followed it up with “ugh yuck I didn’t like doing that.”

Soap is crushed, sulking behind you. You just flipped his whole world upside down, whispered in his ear like sex incarnate and then turned around to complain that it inconvenienced you. He never once used “Kyle baby” again.

(Do I only write at soap’s expense? Yes. I wanna tease him so bad)

[unsat-and-strange]

i finished the princess bride. its time to write. its yaoi time.

[rafesbowbunny]

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

[delicious-in-imagines]

Nsfw headcannons for Laios, Mithrun and Kabru??? 👀👀

I love them very much 😁 (I'm soooo normal for them, so so so normal)

*rubs my grubby lil hands together* :)))

NSFW below the cut, as per usual! Spoilers for Mithrun!

Requests are still OPEN!

Laios Touden

You have the full authority to bully this man - I promise you that he enjoys it. He wants to be so good for you, sitting on his legs as he looks up at you, awaiting each and every instruction. For him, it's all about fulfilling your desires and wishes, anything you ask of him, you don't need to repeat yourself.

Grope and grasp at his body, that little bit of extra padding that he has, and feel free to add some stinging remarks to the fondling. His chest is especially sensitive, Laios letting out the cutest little gasps as you take a handful each and squeeze. That adorable blush of his will paint across his skin and up his neck, even to the tips of his ears as you coo and sneer at him in equal measure.

He loves to have you on top of him, riding him into the earth as he holds at your waist like a lifeline. He'll babble out whatever he's thinking, usually interrupting himself while he's gasping about how beautiful/handsome you are on top of him, how thankful he is to have you in his life.

We all saw the way he ties ropes, but this man is no rigger - he's a bunny through and through. He'll teach you each and every knot that he knows, showing where to place them on his body while he can barely contain his excitement as each line grows taut. Eventually, he's wrapped up for you like a pretty little package, blushing and already fixing to burst at the seams.

He's usually starving after sex, so grabbing a bite is definitely part of his aftercare. He'll offer you up some food as well, lingering by your side and enjoying the warmth of your bodies, and the feeling of your fingers carding through his hair. He's always got this dopey smile on his face after the deed, something that lingers even while he conks out afterwards.

Kabru of Utaya

Kabru is a 'try anything once' sort of guy, so if you come up to him asking to try something new in the bedroom, he's not going to shoot you down. There are some things that he might need some coaxing on, especially if it involves inflicting pain on you - though he is conscious of the fact that he won't know his limits until he pushes against them, at least a little.

He loves to have his hands bound under him, the slight burn in his shoulders and the grating from trying to 'struggle' his way out of his bindings. It leaves him at your mercy, looking up at you with those bright blue eyes as you take your fill of him, knowing that he's 'powerless' to stop your roaming hands and teasing mouth.

The trust between you is a turn on to him all on its own. Knowing that at any given point, he could say the word and you would stop without any hesitation is part of the thrill. It's the safety within those walls that gives you both the freedom to explore your desires - and knowing you're enjoying yourself is intoxicating in its own right.

When he's alone, or sometimes if you're interested, he'll engage in orgasm denial, squeezing the base of his length, or using a snug ring to stop his pleasure in its tracks. You can keep this up until he's weeping from both his eyes and his arousal, paired with the previously mentioned bindings, he'll be begging for release which only you can provide - if you're feeling merciful.

A bath after your activities is a must, not only to wipe away any sweat and fluids, but also to just enjoy some casual nudity and each other's presence. He'll pay extra attention to any marks that he's made, rubbing gently against them while you talk about what went well, things to try next time, etc., ...

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

The easiest way to work Mithrun up intentionally is to clamber into his lap, draping your arms around his neck and drawing him close. After a display like that, you're not getting away from him. If you try to pull away he'll settle his hands on your hips and grip you closer. It's only after some heated frottage or Mithrun sparing a moment to teleport whatever offending articles of clothing away to get to both your arousals that he'll finally let you go.

Any undue attention towards you from anyone is another quick way to get him riled up. He'll grab your wrist to tug you away, sometimes sending the offender outside of the walls, before pinning you to a nearby wall with barely any semblance of privacy to have his wicked way with you. He'll press teeth and open-mouthed kisses to the length of your neck, his actions speaking where his lips would not.

An easy way to turn the tables on him is to speak so sweetly to him, calling him handsome, cooing at him and complimenting him. It knocks him off balance, and it's the perfect chance to get him on bottom. Lavishing his body in reverent touches and kisses, he turns into a mess, and will often bring a hand up to try and hide his face.

The two of you have a fair collection of toys - though usually it's to use on him. Part of his newfound desires is the exploration and deepening of those, and the more that you can potentially overwhelm him during those intimate moments, the better. Little enchanted trinkets that with a tiny bit of mana can vibrate, or some select pieces that Fleki or Lycion suggested to the pair of you embarrassingly enough, the potential is endless.

All of the aftercare will fall to you. Making sure that he eats something light and rehydrates, knowing that you'll both probably need to rest pretty soon after. On some rare occasions though, he'll still your hand and check you over, rubbing and pressing kisses to some of the harsh marks that he's left behind - his favorite reminders that you choose to stay with him, that he's your first pick, even if you could have anyone else.

[buckgasms]

Now I know Bucky isn't a mafia boss or anything in the Princess universe BUT I feel like he would have enemies and people would definitely think his Princess was a good target.

So imagine with me that you are out shopping and you are suddenly surrounded by burly men in suits who guide you to an unfamiliar car. Your shopping bags are left on the curb as the tyres screech as they peel away.

Maybe for a moment you think, is this an elaborate prank that Daddy has set up? But as you begin to speak a hand clamps around your mouth, pressing a damp rag to your face and everything turns black.

🖤

You wake up, groaning as you feel your hands tied to a chair and you still aren't quite sure if this is one of Daddy's games, because you've definitely been put in this position before.

"Ah you're awake, quite the snorer you know..."

A slippery voice speaks in the darkness of the room. It looks like a cheap hotel suite. Big but grubby, the sheets on the bed look like they be greasy to the touch and the walls are a sad beige. No. Daddy wouldn't bring you here. You should feel scared, but the fact this man is hiding from you makes you a little bolder.

"Bucky's gonna kill you..." You say, keeping your voice as steady as you can. "And I don't snore..."

The man chuckles and appears into your view. He looks vaguely familiar, maybe someone Bucky has identified to you at a party of some kind. A shady character, dirty dealings and always trying to encroach on Bucky's businesses.

"Now... Are you going to be good for me?"

You balk at his words and grimace. He pulls out a long knife and you shiver. You knew Daddy would be on the way, but how long did you have to endure would be unknown.

"You are going to tell me everything I want to know or I'm going to ruin that very pretty face of yours..."

🖤

When Bucky's security team kicked down the door of the hotel room they were almost surprised to find you unscathed, your captor laying on the bed with a pen and paper in his hand, both of you looking quite relaxed.

Well until they grabbed him and dragged him out of the room.

Bucky came storming in, eyes wild in panic until he saw you smiling at him. He dropped down, hands going to the binds around your ankles and wrists.

"Are you ok Princess? Are you hurt baby?"

You smile, tears of relief welling in your eyes and you wrap your arms around him. "M'fine Daddy, he didn't hurt me too bad..."

He pulled back, holding your face in his hands before kissing you desperately, lips, cheeks, nose, forehead.

"Did you do what I told ya?" He says, panic lacing his voice and he checks your skin for damage, stroking at the red marks appearing on your wrists. He looks a you again, searching.

You giggle and nod. "Yeah, I told him everything I knew. Everything I could think of..."

Bucky grins and drags you in for another kiss. "Good girl, so proud of you Princess..."

🖤

"If you ever get taken baby I need you to do something for me..."

You lay in Daddy's arms, stroking his chin as his hand wraps around your wrist. You roll your eyes and giggle, but he pulls you to focus.

"It's important Babygirl, I want you to pay attention." He couples that with rolling you on top of him, your naked body pressing into his. You were very much aware of everything that was happening now.

"If anyone takes you and they wanna know my secrets..."

"Daddy don't worry I'll keep my mouth closed" you say, making a zip motion across your lips, throwing away the key, he grabs your hand and shakes his head.

"No princess. I want you to tell them everything you can think of. Nothing I do is worth hurting you for. Tell them whatever you can baby. I want you to promise me that.."

Your eyes widen a little, thinking about the gravity of what he's saying. His business, his empire, that he built from nothing. He'd risk it all to keep you from harm.

"Ok Daddy, I promise..." You lean down and kiss him as he rolls back over, squashing you, sending you into a fit of giggles and showing you again how much he loves you.

🖤

His fingers run through your hair as you cup his face in your soft hands. Despite the way it went, you were still pretty scared and being back in his arms was a great relief.

Sensing your adrenaline bubbling he picks you up and carries you out of the room. You bury your face into his neck and breathe deeply, trying to relax in his arms. Finally he climbs into the car and settles you on his lap.

"I'm so sorry this happened baby, never wanted you to get caught up in stuff like this. That son of a bitch is gonna pay, I swear to god..."

He watches you, as you fiddle with his shirt buttons, a look of concern on your face. He tilts your chin until you meet his gaze, thumb stroking gently at your cheek.

"Are you ok Princess?"

"Yes I think so... it's just....Daddy..... Do I snore?"

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.01 A Big Splash

It's a typical Saturday morning, and as usual, I slept in. As hard as it is to drag myself out of bed, I know I have things to do today, so into the shower I go.

While I'm getting ready, I can't help but reflect on my recent birthday. It's hard to believe how much has happened over my lifetime, or even just in the past 10 years. In a lot of ways, I still feel like that same kid who thought he knew everything but had so much to learn. If I could go back and tell him what was about to happen in his life, I don't think he'd believe me. Sometimes, I still don’t believe it.

As I head downstairs, I hear the familiar sound of Paul stirring something in a bowl and briefly wonder what he's making before chuckling to myself. I already know it's pancakes. It's always pancakes, but I can't complain about the predictability when I know they're going to be delicious. 

I make it downstairs and the girls are so busy helping that they don't even notice I've come down.

Well, Rachel is helping, at least. She has her own bowl and is standing on the footstool at the island stirring away. Chelsea, however, can't be trusted with anything that we plan to eat unless I'm there to supervise. Otherwise we run the risk of having a secret ingredient–toddler slobber or animal hair or whatever else has ended up on her grubby little hands. 

I sneak up behind her and give her a little tickle. She turns around. “Dada!” she squeals, as I scoop her up and give her a squeeze.

“Good morning, my loves,” I say.

“Dada, we’re making pancakes!” Rachel tells me, as though I should be surprised by this revelation. 

“I see that. I can’t wait to try them.” 

“What are you in the mood for this morning?” Paul asks me. “We’re out of bananas, but we have plenty of blueberries and strawberries.”

I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I'm in the mood for some of this,” I say, and he turns his head to meet my lips.

 “Lucky for you, there’s always plenty of that.”

Rachel and Paul finish the pancakes and we all scarf them down. It’s times like this when I wish we had more space. There’s not enough room for a dining table in our townhouse.

Chelsea insists she doesn’t need a high chair but can’t reach the barstools, so she ends up having most of her meals on the couch. Which is why the pillows smell like maple syrup and feel sticky.

Once we’ve finished breakfast, Rachel has a request. “Can we go to the splash pad? Please?

“Yeah, Dada, pwease?” Chelsea echoes. How can I say no to that?

The splash pad isn’t far but we have to drive, which means packing up everything we need and getting the kids secured in their seats. And of course, they want our dog Tucker to come with us.

Once we arrive, though, it’s worth all the effort. The girls love splashing around in the water...and yeah, so do Paul and I. 

“This was a good idea,” I tell Paul once we take a little break from the water.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. We should do this more often, especially now that Chelsea’s getting older.”

“True, it’s a lot easier going out now that she’s not a baby anymore. Although…”

Paul sighs. “John,” he warns. He knows exactly what I’m hinting at.

“I’m just saying, she’s getting so big. I miss having a baby around.”

“So do I, but it would be much harder to have days like this with a newborn. Besides, we barely have space in the house for the four of us.”

“Exactly. We’re already outgrowing the house, so we might as well upgrade to something bigger and fill it with more babies.”

I gesture over to a lot across from the splash pad. “Look how close the Hopewell Commons expansion is. They have bigger units there. If we lived there we could just walk to the splash pad. Imagine how much the kids would love that.”

“Well, there has to be a unit available first,” Paul points out. “But I suppose we can let Gail and Ellie know we’re interested so they can let us know when something opens up.”

“Cool. So baby time?”

“I’m not saying no, but can we think about it a little more?”

“Yeah sure,” I agree. Sometimes Paul’s need to consider every possible angle before making a decision can be a bit frustrating, but I have to admit it’s helpful to have someone to reel me in sometimes. It’s a nice balance–a little chaotic, a little structured, and a lot of fun. 

Once again my thoughts turn to the past. Paul and I have been together for almost 10 years now. When I turned 20, I had no idea that my roommate would end up being my husband. That was certainly a year of discovery for me. And with a new home and a new baby possibly on the horizon, year 30 is shaping up to be quite an adventure as well. 

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

Bonus pics below!

[agentdilf]

need a g/n reader x sniper and they're both busy til the point where sniper has to physically drag them to the side to spend some time with them! >,>

(Possible nsfw....... Perchance romance...... Teeheehee.......)

first nsfw ask... rubs my gay little grubby hands together mischievously..... not writing his accent hardly i fear. also imma b real i aam SO tired so mb if theres mistakes but usually my nsfw writing comes out the juicest when im tired... i lost motivation to write for tf2 😭 im so sorry i responded so LATE OMG ... fade to black type shii mb chat.

nsfw under the cut! minors dni!

You and Sniper are busy people- I mean, that much should be obvious. You have your responsibilities, he has his.

However... Today, he gets off work earlier than usual. And he is feeling... Needy. Especially so, since he hasn't seen you other than in passing due to your jobs.

So he does what he sees fit- Picking you up like a sack of potatoes and throwing you over his shoulder.

You protest, because you still have work to do.

Does he listen? No. He's always been stubborn like that. You give up your struggle after maybe 30 seconds, because though this man is tall and lanky, there is no way you're escaping his hold.

He tosses you onto the bed, and flops onto you.

"oUUGGGHHH! MUNDY- YOU BIG BITCH-" You yelp as he lays against you. It's sorta... Nice. He's like a very heavy weighted blanket.

He chuckles, pulling you on top of him, laying your head on his chest.

"Better?"

"Better." You respond.

There's a bit of comfortable silence, before you speak up again. "Why did you interrupt my work for this?" Your tone isn't angry or upset, just confused. He knew your work was important!

He looks at you like you just said the stupidest thing you've ever said.

"You've been working non stop for hours. Cut yourself some slack."

You let out a loud, dramatic sigh, and bury your head in his chest.

"Fine." You say, acting like you're upset. But you're not, you're just being dramatic.

He holds your hips, and lifts up your chin with his finger. "I've wanted you so bad, luv. Y'know that?"

"I want you too.. So fucking bad.." You whisper, and his lips are on yours. The kiss is rough, and needy, yet there's a certain gentleness to his kiss.

God, you love this man.

He runs his hands up your shirt as the two of you kiss, and one thing leads to another, and you're missing all of your clothes.

You were in for a big night tonight.

[pricegouge]

ur posts about dad nikolai have been festering in my head and all i can think about is his little girl being flirted with while they're out together by a cashier or something and how he reacts once theyre in the car. all possessive and talking about how she's all his.

Honestly much as he enjoys your fashion shows when he takes you out shopping (especially cause he knows the best way to get a perfect fit is to try stuff on and loves when you look your best), this is exactly why he prefers to just order whatever you want. Keeps his credit cards saved in your phone, even, so you don't feel embarrassed about all the cute little panties you buy. Just intercepts the packages at the door, inspects them for security reasons - you understand. Maybe he can use the same excuse next time you want to go out for a proper shopping trip. Spin some lie about rude little boys hiding behind cash wraps, who openly hit on you right in front of him. Brave, considering.

You're all pouty by the time he's corralled you back to the car. Parshivets. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and watch as that little runt tried his best to get your number? While cashing out your pretty new dresses, grubby hands creasing the fine, slinky silk because he wasn't paying enough attention to box them properly? When you weren't even the one dealing with him anyway, stood off to the side while your papa paid for your things, flustered and all but bringing your hands in embarrassment because you're far too polite to let someone down? Please. The boy's lucky Nik didn't pull him over the counter, leaned as he was over it, trying to see past the wall Nik had made of himself between the two of you.

Unprofessional was what it was, and he'd had no qualms letting the manager know, even if you'd thought he'd gone too far.

"Bad enough you were so mean to him," you'd huffed, but really he'd only said what you should have to begin with. He's been spoiling you, it's obvious now. Letting his pretty little malýshka get away with far too much.

Been letting you out of the house too much.

He's patient despite his anger. Waits until he's navigated out of the complex plaza parking lot, hand heavy on your thigh all the while. A warning just as much as it is a comfort to both of you. He does not want to hear any more excuses made for the runt.

When he's back on the highway, the drive easy enough the ratio of his attention shifts in your favor, he turns his dark eyes on you, bites back a grin when he feels your quad tense under his palm. You know, try to reason with him before he even starts. "It's not like I was gonna -."

"No," Nik agrees. Doesn't need to hear the rest of that sentence. "You wouldn't have."

"Papa, he was just being nice."

He damn near snorts. "Boys aren't nice without a reason."

"Well, maybe you aren't, but -."

"Have I not been nice?" he counters, heavy brow arched as he dares you to lie, say you haven't been spoiled rotten.

Struggles to keep an eye on the road when you challenge him. "Are you not after something?"

Clever. He forgets sometimes, how you see through him. See the way his eyes linger too long, his hands rest too heavily when you cuddle up next to him on the couch. It can be nice, though. Not always having to pretend.

Your fingers are cold when his hand finds yours, frigid little digits he takes the time to breathe hotly against when he pulls them up to his lips for a quick kiss. "Not after anything, radnaja. Already have it, remember?"

Another kiss. He keeps your hands entwined when he leans his weight into the center console, broad shoulder crowding you ever so slightly. "You're mine."

[verdantwyrm]

we’re gonna need another philosophy debate vs baby blocks meme for critical analysis bc i’m tired of seeing so many ppl go ‘it’s basic media literacy!!’ and make out mw as One Message Only and only their own opinion is valid. did you forget that multiple themes are layered and support each other. evidence of your interpretation with quotes and context. oppositional and counter arguments that make your own argument weaker. ppl like this would literally be laughed at in college and get a failing grade PLEASE be an adult about something that can have so many interpretations based on supporting evidence i’m tired

And then they go ahead and make the only message ever to not even be the right one. Part of the reason why I urge so much to constantly share my own thoughts and threads almost live as they're coming to my brain and instead of some, echo chamber discord server circlejerk is that I focus on helping people come to conclusions.

I help people realise stuff that they had never even considered before because I have the beautiful gift of being severely Autistic about every little detail. I boot up mouthwashing, go into noclip mode and spend like hours sifting through every single thing I can get my grubby little hands on, if not in game then the files which I hand ripped myself.

YouTubers and tiktok'ers love just regurgitating the same 3 opinions over and over and over again showing very little care for any of the real messages in the game and just parroting very shallow feministic rhetoric or something something psychoanalyzing Jimmy in all the Wrong Ways that's albeist and genuinely infuriating in every way.

People love pretending to be fake-woke about this game, thinking they've cracked the code to the whole thing by yelling "Curly is an abuser" at the top of their lungs on every tall building they can and getting mad when no one agrees with them.

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Mum's Fury

Ginnyiversary bingo entry: I16 — Why had no-one ever mentioned Mum's twin? Read on AO3

Mr and Mrs Weasley’s anniversary celebration was a grand endeavour. They had all divided the tasks to do around the house to have it ready for the surprise party. They had precisely two hours to tidy the house, prepare food, and put up decorations without Mr and Mrs Weasley knowing.

With an hour to go they suddenly realised that no one had been tasked with picking up the gift. Ginny had placed the order but someone else was meant to pick it up. In the kitchen beside Harry she helplessly looked at him. She could not apparate while pregnant and they hadn’t announced that news yet.

“Percy?” he suggested, looking over at all the pots.

“No… he’s degnoming and then he needs to help Bill…” She locked eyes with him. “Can you just quickly go?” She wiped the sweat off her brow. “Please?”

Harry could never say no to those big brown eyes under any circumstance.

“I’ll get cleaned up and change when you’re back.” She used her wand to adjust the heat on the pots.

“Alright,” he agreed. He kissed her softly. “Ask help if needed.”

She nodded and pushed him. “Go.”

Harry thought it was impressive that he had returned in less than twenty minutes. He had reluctantly given the man an autograph just so he could make a quick escape. It only worked somewhat.

When he returned, he saw Bill, Charlie, and Percy standing outside near the kitchen window, giggling amongst themselves.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Bill snorted and looked at Harry. “We were just wondering… why had no-one ever mentioned Mum’s twin?”

Harry was about to ask for clarification when Ginny’s voice soared—or rather rolled—out of the open window with a thunderous volume as she yelled at Ron for stealing food while it wasn’t ready yet.

Ron ran outside, pursued by a furious Ginny, who halted in the doorway wearing an apron. Her face was red and she was waving a spatula at her brother.

“Right,” Harry said.

Ginny’s scorching gaze landed on them. “If you have time to stand around you have time for more chores and I’ve got a few!” she shouted in a tone that could rival Mrs Weasley’s.

The Weasley men scattered immediately and vanished to return to their assigned tasks, leaving Harry standing on his own.

He walked up to her. “Got the gift, with some difficulty.” He kissed the top of her head.

She walked back to the stove and he followed her, setting the gift out of the way.

“Go get ready, I’ve got it.”

“Sure?” she asked. “The dish in the oven needs another 10 minutes but maybe check before then. Everything on the table has a cooling charm on it and everything on the counter a heating charm.”

“Lovely. Leaves me with nothing much to do.” He kissed her temple again in the hopes her face would relax a little.

“And don’t let my brothers near—”

“The food… Don’t worry, I’m a duelling champion,” he teased. He turned the heat on the sauce down.

She smiled a little. “Thank you, babe.” She glanced towards the window. “What were those idiots laughing about?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Well… you’re in the Burrow yelling at everyone to stop getting their grubby hands on the food. Reminded them of someone.”

She gasped, her eyes wide. “No!”

“On the bright side, you’re now as scary as your mum,” he teased with a chuckle.

“It’s already happening, isn’t it?” She turned to him and cocked her head. “I’m already turning into my mother.”

He leaned on the counter with his elbow. “I prefer to think you’re becoming a mother.” He grinned at her.

She shook her head smiling and wagged the spatula at him. “As per usual, you are completely unhelpful on the topic.”

Harry kissed her. “Get changed, and I’ll yell at your brothers and all will be done with ten minutes to spare.” He pushed her towards the stairs.

Ginny disappeared upstairs with her change of clothes and he turned back to the stove. His back stiffened when he heard the creak of the floor.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ronald,” Harry said. He turned around to find Ron standing a meter away from the table, looking dejected. “Or I’ll report you to my wife.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “No, please don’t!”  

[scary-lasagna]

Hello!:D i was wondering if you could do Jeff and Ben with a child reader?:0 platonic obvi!^^ but there really mean and stuff but its bc of trauma?:D if not ignore this<3

oh dear, i'm sorry I didn't catch the mean part! I'll be writing a second one with your spare ask don't worry!! :]

Platonic!Jeff & Ben

Ben is like stupidly amazing with kids.

Sally loves him, she thinks he's the coolest in the manor and lets her say bad words sometimes, and even has a tea party once in a while.

Jeff isn't the greatest, and usually has a knack for making small children cry.

So when an orphaned child wanders up to the manor, and they're scheduled to babysit until Slender gets home, they agree to watch you until sunset.

Jeff has absolutely no clue what to do with you, and doesn't even think to offer you a snack or something to drink.

Ben is already returning from the kitchen with little packets of crackers and one of Sally's juice boxes.

Jeff will pick you up and plop you down at the table, sitting next to you and try to make an attempt at conversation.

But again, he's terrible with children, and tries asking you if you've seen the new GTA 6 trailer.

You look at him weird before continue munching on your crackers. You even go as far as scooting away from him a little bit.

Jeff is embarrassed by a 5 year old, but pretends he's not bothered by it. Ben sees right through his facade, and snickers to himself behind a well placed cough..

Ben knows how make you feel more comfortable, asking questions about you, because what else would a 5 year old have to talk about?

Their whole world consists of things that they do, not whatever sport was on TV last night or a new game that's being released, you were too young for that talk. The most interesting person they know is themself.

But no matter how many questions Ben tries to ask, you don't give them a glimpse of information about how you got here.

"So, where were you before you found us?"

"Literally, I don't even know, stop asking me. But today I found a frog and I put him in my pocket, and then I started to play the drums and Roblox at the same time but the frog didn't like it and-"

They agree to take you to the game room so you can mess around with whatever you can get your grubby hands on, whether it be the foosball table, the N64 scattered on the ground, the 30,000 dollar pool table-

THE THIEIRTY THOUSNAND DOALRA-

Jeff is faster than Ben, and swoops you up with a 'nOOoonononono', and you think it's the funniest thing that he's holding you upside down, because you laugh so hard you run out of breath.

And while Ben re-organizes the pool balls back into their neat little triangle, Jeff has fun just swinging you about, finding it amusing how easy children are entertained.

One way up, one way back down, swing you around in a circle like a football, dangle you by an ankle and toss you up to catch you. Like a little rhythm game.

He remembers back to his own childhood, the moments where his parents actually liked being parents, and his father tossing hm repeatedly on the couch, which of course is passed down to you.

"Again!"

"AGAAINN??? UGGHH!"

And you think it's hilarious how he's so annoyed, yet does it anyway. And secretly, he loves it.

And Ben loves watching him love it, like he gets to see a glimpse into Jeff's past that he never wants to talk about.

But eventually, as all children do, you grow tired, and instead of running back toward Jeff, you stay on the couch and curl up to watch whatever is flickering on the TV.

Ben will return with popcorn, and Jeff is sitting on the ground in front of you, showing you how to play this old vintage game called "The Mario Bros." that's only 8 pixels deep in graphics quality.

Ben holds a somewhat bittersweet smile, as he walks over and delivers the popcorn. After some thought he joins in as Player 2, and let's you get the sleep you so much needed.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Did my part to vote the fuckers out!! Fingers crossed, and I would love some Geraskier or OFMD, whichever you want. Thank you for doing this!

HURRAH, good job 🎉 lets get those bastards GONE

I've gone for a character/thematic mash-up for this one. Let's see if it works. Added this one under a cut because it's a little longer!

------

Jaskier stared at the book in his hand. The pages danced in the fast, salt-spray wind coming from the ocean as his ship ploughed through the rough seas. Droplets landed on the fine paper, smudging the inky name scrawled in a child’s hand.

Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.

He’d been so proud of it, back then.

With a sigh, he let the book drop into the turbulent waters below. He did not stop to watch it sink.

“Any progress?” he dropped down onto the lower deck, his pristine shoes clicking against the polished wood.

Priscilla, his first mate and dearest friend, gave him one of her Looks. “Slow,” she said. “But we are gaining on them. In fact—” she handed him the spyglass she had been looking through. “They look as if they’ve stopped. Thoughts?”

Jaskier took the glass and held it to his eye. The ship they’d been following - slightly smaller than The Lark with grubby-looking sails - had indeed appeared to have stopped and let down anchor.

“Perhaps they want to parlay,” Jaskier said, folding the spyglass with a decisive click.

“Perhaps.”

He strode up to the bow to get a better look. As he watched, the Lark finally catching up, he noticed a dark shape being run up the flagpole.

The flag was black, jet black. In the centre was a white wolf’s head, jaws open in a snarl.

Ah. Shit.

—

“And you are, what?” the short-haired man glared down at him. “A merchant? A jumped up little prince?”

Jaskier struggled against the ropes binding his wrists.

“Actually,” he spat, with as much venom as he could muster. “I am a pirate. Maybe you’ve heard of me: I am the Bard.”

The man burst out laughing. “And I’m a fucking siren,” he said. “Come on. Captain wants a word.”

He hauled Jaskier to his feet and shoved him forwards. 

“Wait—”

“What is it, little prince?”

“I will speak to your captain. But if you harm my crew—”

“You’ll what, sing us to death? Kick me to bits with your pointy little shoes?”

“Don’t fucking tempt me.”

The man laughed again, then pushed Jaskier towards the cabin nestled at the front of the ship.

“See if you can impress the Wolf with that clever tongue of yours, Bard,” he snorted. “You’ll need it.”

With a final shove, Jaskier fell through the open door. It slammed behind him.

“Perhaps we can make a bargain.”

He spoke before the captain - before the Wolf - could, hoping to distract him, hoping to gain the upper hand. Yes, he was bound, but that didn’t mean he was defeated. Not yet.

“A bargain?”

The voice from the shadows at the far side of the cabin was low and dark.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. “We are alike, you and I. Both pirates, both doing what we must to—”

The man snorted. “You are no pirate.”

“I think you’ll find—”

The man stepped into the light, and Jaskier’s words died in his throat. He was sure he’d been about to make a witty retort, but it had sunk and vanished.

The Wolf was the most singularly striking man he had ever seen. Long, white hair framed a chiselled face, a strong jaw, a firm brow. There was a scar across his eye, a wound long-since healed. And what eyes. In this light, Jaskier could almost swear they were yellow.

He remembered the other pirate’s words: see if you can impress the Wolf with that clever tongue.

Something hot and tight squeezed in Jaskier’s stomach. He took a step forward.

“Surely…” he took another step. All that lay between them was the captain’s table, strewn with papers. “...there must be something you want from me.”

[farity]

Sorrow, part 11

The moment Aemond saw Ser Criston's face, he felt fear invading every part of him.

"Where is my wife?"

"My prince, I walked inside-"

"WHERE IS MY WIFE!" Aemond shouted, standing up, fists on the desk.

Criston, eyes defeated, simply said. "Rhaenyra has princess Elyse."

* * * * *

It was dark in her cell. Nothing as horrible as the dungeons her late husband had thrown her in occasionally, but still, a cell was a cell, even without rats.

She saw someone approaching and curled herself against the corner.

"He took my son, and now he's taken my husband," came Rhaenyra's soft voice. "It is too much to bear," she added, voice breaking. "That family has taken everything from me." She stared at Elyse for a few moments, than turned back and left.

Elyse could not imagine, of course, the losses that Rhaenyra had endured. She was supposed to be queen, until she wasn't, and she had lost her father, her baby, her son, and her husband in quick succession.

It was enough to drive anyone to madness.

She just hoped that she could reunite with Aemond before Rhaenyra gave in to her rage.

A servant came in, sliding a tray under the bars, and as much as Elyse wondered if it was poisoned, she was so hungry that she dove in. It was dry bread, ale, and some kind of slop, but she'd eaten worse, and less, in her old life, so she ate everything, figuring she would be needing her strength from then on.

* * * * *

"Aemond, you cannot go to Dragonstone, it is precisely what she wants." Alicent placed her hand on her son's arm, and found him pulling away from her touch.

"I understand not caring for your spouse is what we do in this family, but once again, I take a different road, mother." He was donning armor, letting his personal servant adjust the ties and clasps. "I will kill that bitch once and for all."

Alicent looked down It was never supposed to happen this way. Aegon was destined to be king and it was supposed to be a golden, glorious reign. Now he was bed-ridden, his mind dulled and his legs destroyed, his beautiful face half burned. Helaena didn't seem to care much, always having been in a world of her own, but she did love her children and that meant a lot to Alicent.

Aemond, who had been an outcast for so long within his own family, and was now cursed as a kinslayer, wore Aegon's crown and his impetuousness had now landed him a wife.

Alicent had spoken to her maester before this all happened. She would have him examine Elyse, find out if the young woman was telling the truth about being unable to bear children.

* * * * *

It was difficult to sleep with only your arm for a pillow. Not that she hadn't done it before, but between the cold that seeped in, the worry about what would happen to her and Aemond, and every little noise making her jump, Elyse couldn't get more than a few minutes' rest at a time.

Rhaenyra had not come back in a long time. Neither had anyone else, and she was hungry again. She'd found a bucket in the corner to relieve herself in but felt grubby and sticky and if she got out of this place she would spent a long time in the nearest body of water, washing off the filth that surrounded her.

Had it all been a dream? Her time with Aemond? The soft words, the loving touches, would she ever feel them again, or was she destined to die, forgotten to all, in this hell hole? Would she ever feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, the weight of him pressing her into their bed? She could almost feel his hair on his fingertips if she closed her eyes. She would not forget. She would endure, and she would find her way back to him.

* * * * *

Vhagar raged, her anger echoing that of her rider's. Aemond guided the great dragon over the home of his half-sister, heard the answering roar of Syrax. He could not risk an attack without knowing where Elyse was, and so he landed by the great doors of Dragonstone and made his way inside.

There were no guards, no one between him and the figure that sat on the throne, the crown of Jaeherys atop her head.

"I have been waiting for you, brother."

"Where is my wife?"

"It is time for you to answer for your many sins."

Aemond gritted his teeth at her tone. "There shall be plenty of time for that in the seven hells that await me, sister. Now, I want my wife brought to me."

Rhaenyra stood, took the few steps down from the dais until she was but a few feet from him. "You took my son from me, my sweet boy," she said quietly, "and now you have taken my husband."

"And his whore," Aemond snarled. "I thought you'd be grateful for that."

"I loved him!"

"Clearly, it wasn't mutual."

Rhaenyra turned to the side. "Guard!"

As Aemond watched, a guard walked in from a side door, holding Elyse's arm. She looked terrified, pale, but when she looked at him she managed a small smile.

"Wife," he said, "I am here to take you home."

"I am delighted to hear that, husband."

The guard stopped far enough from Aemond that he clenched his fists at his side, wanting nothing more than to grab Elyse.

"It is due to my mercy that your wife lives, Aemond, mercy you do not deserve for you had none for mine. But my mercy is not limitless, and-"

"Your wretch of a son should have been punished for what he did to me," Aemond snapped, "but you were too busy pretending your bastards were true, pretending calling them as they were was worse than Luke taking my eye. This is all our father's fault."

"Father's biggest mistake was marrying Alicent," Rhaenyra countered. "He had an heir, there was no need for more children. But now I present you with a choice, brother."

Aemond said nothing, his eye darting between his sister and his wife. Elyse looked at him, her hands clasped together as the guard continued to hold her arm.

"Bend the knee. Pledge your loyalty and your dragon to me, and I will give you your wife back."

"No, Aemond."

He turned to Elyse, who was shaking her head.

"Do not do it."

"Be quiet," Rhaenyra spat, "or I shall cut your pretty head from your body!"

Aemond lunged at his sister, and froze when he saw the guard put a blade to Elyse's throat. He would tear Rhaenyra to pieces with his bare hands if she dared harm his wife. It was time to end this charade, he thought.

"Wait," he said, and took a step back.

A moment later, the guard made a gurgling sound and Elyse screamed.

Rhaenyra turned, and saw Ser Criston Cole step around the dying guard, pulling his blade out of the back of the man's neck. "You're safe, princess," he said, and Elyse ran to Aemond.

"Guards!"

"Don't bother, princess," Ser Criston said to Rhaenyra, "they're all dead. You really should hire a better quality of soldier."

* * * * *

While Cole and his men secured Dragonstone, Aemond kept his arms around Elyse, kissing her hair while she simply pressed herself against him.

"Were you harmed?"

"No," she replied, "other than keeping me from you, no." She pulled back, her fingers ghosting along the planes of his face. "I'm sorry I smell," she smiled weakly.

Aemond shook his head. "I have you back," he pressed his lips to hers. "I will make her pay for daring to lay a hand on you."

"Can we go home?" she asked, and as much as Aemond wanted to do just that, he had unfinished business with Rhaenyra.

He brushed his lips against hers again. "Soon, wife. Stay with Ser Criston." He felt the momentary panic as she gripped him tightly, but then she stepped back, and let him go.

"Ser Criston," he said as he walked to where his sister sat on the steps of the dais, his men on each side of her. "With your life."

"My prince," Cole said simply, and nodded.

Aemond walked toward Rhaenyra, taking his time.

"It is time for you to answer for your many sins."

* * * * * *

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 7th April ✨

Happy #AudioDramaSunday! I’ve had such a long week - here’s what made it better!🌈

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E7) I loved the April Fool’s episode, it really brightened up my day. And the main ep was lovely too. I do so love a parakeet and the idea that some kids can actually see ghosts 🥺 but what the hell was Frank doing at the end there? Please can this be the thing that pushes Leo back into Julia’s (arms) and Riley’s circle of friendship????? Please! 

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (146) Danielle!!!!! I am rubbing my grubby little hands together waiting for more information on how Clem and Danielle came to be Like That. The fun thing about this ?time skip is that it makes me want to be omnipresent in the narrative too. I need to know what’s happening to everyone everywhere!! 

🎙️WTNV (245) Maybe I have father-related trauma, but I am HUNGRY for the Grandad Gershwin lore.

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum (FRANTIC) ohh I was wondering when the Queen was going to make an appearance (Hero is too good not to be featured LBR) but now it’s happened I’m scared!! I think the next episode is the finale and I have no idea what kind of ending is going to emerge! 

🔎 @224bbaker Fawx and Stallion released the second part of their Q+A which was so much fun to listen to. We love self-indulgent show runners, particularly when we all want the same things (AKA lava-filled cage matches). Please be really cool and intelligent like me and support the S2 crowdfund! I need the case of the Birthday Boy or I’ll perish. 

🍾 @ameliapodcast (30) This was such a cute episode!! Not going to lie, if the first human voice I heard was Amelia’s, I wouldn’t be mad! Not sure that they’re going to get them back as a client though . . . 

🍎 @notquitedeadpod (XXX-XXXII) help, oh my god, listening to Alfie talk to Cas is actually destroying me emotionally 😭 I hate how evasive (and manipulative??) Neige is being. I KNOW there’s something huge that hasn’t yet been revealed and I’m not ready to find out what that is!

Hope everyone has had a good week! I'm so excited for more Camlann next week and I think The Silt Verses is returning too!! 

[proxylynn]

Let's talk about the hullabaloo with the new HelluvaBoss episode.

[I am loving the discourse going on in the fandom about the new episode and gender fuckery...or so some are going off about.

I'll mention this one because it's hardly a thing. Andrealphus is gay. No biggie. Some are being weird saying him calling his sister hot is a sign he's not gay, but...Have they never had a sibling do this? "Looking good, sis!" "Bro, you're looking sharp today." I'm also gonna nip this in the butt, no, complimenting your sibling doesn't imply incest, not everything is Game of Thrones. But let's look at the context of when Andrealphus says this. He "compliments" Stella when annoyed and when tries to sway her. She's not bright. He knows this. This is why he says she's lucky she's attractive because he's insinuating it's all she's useful as. A pretty face. Because even his sister is a pawn for his own goals, that should be obvious by now since he's willing to play Octavia (his niece) as a means to an end in his goal for power. This has nothing to do with his sexuality. It never was. He's just a condescending manipulative prick.

Now with that out of the way, onto the main point of contention. Let's talk about Mammon and the confusion that's going on with him being Ace yet making a pass at Leviathan. HE'S STILL FUCKING ACE! I'm Ace. I'm married. I love my husband. Does this mean I'm not Ace? NO! Because Ace is a fucking spectrum and not a clear-cut label that means you are this and this only! Even the most basic definition of Ace is "experience little to no sexual attraction to others". Notice how it says "little to no" and not outright saying no? Yeah, because Aces can still feel shit! A simple Google search isn't so hard to do.

Spectrum: Asexuality exists on a spectrum, and people may experience no, little, or conditional sexual attraction. 

Identity: Asexuality is a sexual orientation and identity, not a medical condition. 

Romantic attraction: Asexual people may still experience romantic attraction. Many asexual people identify as aromantic, meaning they don't experience romantic attraction. 

Celibacy: Asexuality is different from celibacy, which is the choice to not engage in sexual behaviors. 

Health: Asexuality is valid, and many healthy people identify as asexual. 

Some other terms related to asexuality include:

Allosexual: The opposite of asexual, referring to people who experience sexual attraction

Gray asexual: Also called graysexual or gray ace, this term refers to people who fall somewhere between asexuality and allosexuality

Demisexual: People who only experience sexual attraction after forming a close emotional bond with someone

Mammon can still be Ace and flirt. It doesn't make him any less Ace. I'll even take this further. Let's think of this within the context of what we know of Mammon in the episodes connected to him. He had Fizzarolli as his star and needed robotic know-how to not only fix him but also produce the Fizzies. What Sin has this knowledge? Ozzie. As the greedy manipulative businessman he is, he likely schmoozed Ozzie to get on his good side and made it easier to dig his grubby hands into any deal he could sneak out of Ozzie (something he had to work hard to do given how much Ozzie hates Mamms today). Now let's look at things now. Fizzie isn't his star anymore. The Glam Sisters are. And they are very obviously from the Evny Ring. And who runs the Envy Ring? That's right, it's our girls', Leviathan. Now knowing this, doesn't it make sense for him to make a move on them? YES! And it was working too! The lighter head was so digging his rizz (let's be real, Aces just have high charm stats which is why so many want to bang them...Looking at you Alastor simps, I feel you) but the dark head ain't vibing and moved them away. I think he still has a shot of scoring some sort of arrangement that he will no doubt worm into being massively leaning toward his benefits. He does seem to be spreading his influence into all the Rings and he has no issues taking resources in the pursuit of profit. He is doing what his instincts tell him to do to gain the system in his favor and his alone. Look at how he managed to dick over Lucifer, Mammon won the court case to rip off a Pride Ring exclusive thing. He can and will fuck over other Sins/nobles/and royals to get what he wants. This man is a bloody legend with balls of steel!

So yeah. This was my long somewhat rant on why this is ridiculous. Thank you for reading and have a good day/night.]