#i need a tag for my writing jesus christ

[forlorn-crows]

Into the Eyes of Fire

for the one and only, my love, @miasmaghoul. happiest of (early) birthdays to you!!

Relationship(s): Ifrit/Dew

Rating: E (and N for NASTY)

Tags: blowjobs, classic feminization, degradation, rimming, nasty fucking, overstim, and a little piss. iffie is a big bad ghoul and dew is so so into it.

Words: 5691

Summary: The look in question happened only a few hours ago: the pair of them gallivanting around the stage, charging at each other like wild bulls during the bridge of Year Zero. Until Ifrit rose up on his toes, hovering only a few inches above Dew as he leaned in for a mock kiss. He may as well have been two feet taller with the way his rich brown eyes bore straight into Dew's, getting closer and closer until the water ghoul was forced to pull away. 

It was no more than a few seconds. But the shared look between the two of them was more than enough to convey Dew's desperate thoughts.

Ifrit had regarded him with a calculating stare as keycards were handed out for the evening, grasping Dew by the arm and pulling him flush to his side as they made the short trek up to the room—separating from him only long enough to shove their bags in the bathroom and hook the latch over the door.

Now Dew whimpers, barely loud enough to be considered a sound. His head thumps against the wall, hips canting into Ifrit’s. 

The fire ghoul chuffs, nails tracing patterns into the exposed skin around the hemline of Dew’s shirt, goosebumps rising in their wake. “Gonna make you cry; that’s what you want, isn’t it, baby?”

[friedchickenluver]

ugh, i gotta write smut…

[tnt-zone]

I've had this song in my head for days now.

Something about it pulls at my chest and makes me want to cry but I can't. It feels familiar in an unknown way, reminding me of things I don't remember. Someone comfortingly takes me by the hand and says "your whole world is falling apart and changing, and you're going to deal with it on your own." If I could scream out any song into the darkness right now it would be this one.

But who knows how I'll feel in 5 years.

-Scary ⛈️

[04tenno]

I have to admit I’m so unsure of what message they were trying to send with Nick Ogata

Looks classically fruity but I’m still… unsure

Well, they say if it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck...

I think it goes past appearances, though. Of course, he does dress like a dandy (the same way Yokoyama first visualized Mine dressing, incidentally), and there's a certain flamboyant charm there. And he does have Those Mannerisms. You know the ones, I'm sure.

If that much seemed tenuous, the fact he frequents Earth Angel, more or less acts as Ichiban's "sugar daddy" over the course of the game, and is very excited to hear all about Ichiban's "date" with Arakawa while clearly under the impression Ichiban means it in a romantic sense (💀💀💀) leaves few doubts for most about what they were trying to get at.

But as always, I'd like to talk about queerness in the context of Japanese culture. Earth Angel no longer billed as an "okama bar," but that was part of its history, and the Champion District is also home to Drama Queen. Like I've touched on before, the "clustering" of LGBT-friendly establishments in the Champion District makes it more like a cross between Golden Gai (what it's actually based on) and Nicho (Shinjuku's hub of gay subculture), which naturally carries implications for regulars.

Another thing I've touched on before is wealth. Among the sexual minorities in Japan, gay men appear to have the highest ceiling for financial mobility. Characters like Nick and Mine, who've accrued more wealth than most other characters could even dream of, demonstrate that perfectly; the sums of money at the core of games like Yakuza and Yakuza 4 are pocket change to them. To a degree, this goes for Oda too, though in a cast of characters of characters who are also filthy rich, he doesn't stand out as much.

Those are pretty broad, of course, but there are a few things specific to Nick. For one, his theatricality and dramatics. In particular, his showmanship in the iconic finale scene stands out to me. There is a fair amount of crossover with queerness in Western culture here, so I'm sure it'll sound familiar. Let's see...

"Mainstream" visibility and acceptance of transgender identities and homosexuality in modern Japan first came to be through big spectacular televised events inviting queer entertainers to perform. And although these were joyful occasions that many were happy to see, the lack of seriousness in media in general has more or less lead to the generalization of queer people (mainly gay men and trans women) as entertainers and performers, theatrical, dramatic, camp.

To quote Queer Japanese, "Curiosity is the only driving force. Sexual minorities portrayed by media are funny and entertaining, but without real voice. The invitation of sexual minorities to the program by NHK satisfies the curiosity of viewers while also showing the viewers how open, accepting, and tolerant the media has become." This is the case for a lot of Japanese media, RGG included.

Another thing specific to Nick is that he's half-American and has clearly spent a lot of time stateside, being bilingual. Now, that might not sound related, but frequently in Japan you'll encounter the sentiment that being queer is a "foreigner thing"; many people are more willing to accept foreigners and the diaspora as being queer than the alternative. The sentiment lies at the intersection of too many ingrained assumptions to unpack here, but it's one that's reflected in characters like Nick (or even Mine, who is heavily Westernized himself.)

Analysis aside, the biggest instinctive "tell" for me was the attempt to subvert expectations with him dating women and enjoying their company (unlike Mine, for once). In attempting to subvert expectations, it's necessary to acknowledge the fact the expectations are there in the first place. So to me, Nick is a character who is crafted to set those expectations, and his character cannot be divorced from them.

And my reasoning may sound counter-intuitive, but... I'm not sure what man who's actually interested in women only dates them to refine them to their best selves and then immediately breaks up with them. It's like, he only gets in relationships knowing they'll end and he'll be the one to do it, and that's not only fine with him, but the appeal. So it kind of just circles back around to being pretty gay.

While I'm here, Nick is partly based on this guy from RGGO (whose name I never bothered to learn/remember, but I assume he has one.)

Neat.

[vpyre]

Me when I burn myself out on writing once again after promising another fic 🫠

[not-so-superheroine]

deseret book is more persistent than duolingo.

i ordered 2 books for a church research project on Black saints in the early Church and also in the Reorganization, on which the one book had a small section us and all had info from the our shared early church history, and it was an ebook too!

and i get physical mail from them once a month. i have no idea how to cancel.

herald house, the community of christ publishing house, contacts me much less, and i buy books from them all the time.

and oh their church book app reminds me to read my scriptures and the words of their prophets regularly if it's not in sleep mode.

i have to admire the effort behind it, ngl.

[pardonmydelays]

IN THE HEIGHTS countdown: 3 DAYS!

song for today:

VANESSA: daniela told me what you did for me and it’s honestly the sweetest thing anyone ever did for me now, what can i say or do to possibly repay you for your kindness? USNAVI: ...how do you get this gold shit off?

[whysamwhy123]

Since I'm back after a little unplanned hiatus, time to blab about another dumb idea I had for an AU that I'll never write! So! For some reason, a while back, I decided I really wanted to come up with a trashy reality show AU for Max Squared, where MJF decides to exploit Caster's immediate, intense love for him by starting up a little showmance. Max wants to manipulate the editing of the show as well as the game itself to make sure that he wins and/or becomes the breakout star of the season. So when Caster falls head over heels for him on Day One, he's presented with the perfect opportunity.

Initially, I was thinking the show would be a Survivor type deal, a bunch of people on a desert island or something, voting each other off, so Max's game is stringing Caster along so that he won't ever vote against him and he always has an ally help him vote out whoever he considers his biggest competition. But then I started to think it might be funnier if it was an American Idol style singing competition. It kinda fits, right? Both MJF and Caster are musically inclined, after all. And it changes the logic behind Max's plan - he wants to manipulate the editing of the show, make himself seem like a nice, endearing guy so the public will vote to keep him in the show, and ensure he gets a lot more screen time than the the other contestants. And what better way to do than pretending to be falling in love with this weirdo who's obsessed with you? A heart-warming queer romance on a show where only one of them can win? That's some good trash TV there, right?

MJF insists to Caster that it's all an act on his part. He's only pretending to be in love with him for the show, to tug on the heartstrings of all the stupid fans out there who think this shit is anything close to real. A ploy to make himself seem like the perfect charming, irresistible hero he needs to be in order to win this damn thing. And Caster's just like ''Whatever you say, sweetie,'' because he knows before Max does.

Maybe after a certain point, Max figures, hey, there's no harm in sleeping with the guy. It doesn't mean anything - Caster's so willing, so he may as well get laid. Of course, Caster thinks this is a sign that he really does have feelings for him, no matter how many times MJF tells him that it's not because he's actually attracted to him. No, it's just a ''power thing''.

He's only pretending, right? Caster's a fucking loser, a pawn in Max's grand master plan to emerge victorious. There's no way he could end up actually developing feelings for him over the course of the show, right? It's all for the show, it's fake, it's not real! There's simply no way he could...

Also, I'd want there to be a point where one night, Caster straight-up begs Max to let him eat his ass. And MJF's like ''Ugh, no way! That's disgusting! You're insane! You're a fucking weirdo! You're gross! You're...you'd do that for me?'' and of course, Caster tells him he'd do anything for him. And Max finds he can't resist anymore. So he lets Caster do it and he makes sure he doesn't regret it. Max's probably so loud during it that it pisses off the other contestants and the crew members who can hear it through the walls because Max simply cannot keep quiet like he usually can.

[listenupcupcakes]

https://youtu.be/ys6efgjsROs?si=2vynpPDJh0k1NhUb

Here's the cursed vid :)

(Also stardew valleyyy!! I need to play that again oml)

(Ooc) Omg that was amazing-

At least Demo is self aware enough to know something bad’ll happen lol

[mityenka]

shit i just realized i might have a date for valentine's this year

[fictionallyinparadise]

Gonna write some stuff about what direction canon took with Lucifer bc uh. Yeah.

[violet-dragonfly]

it’s that time of the year folks

[lemon-astra]

.

[baldurs-gate-official]

God once my situation is better and I actually get the motivation to write/draw again? I will be unstoppable.

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[hershelwidget]

hi so anyways the next response for the ask blog is going,,, it’s going about as well as it can go if THIS is part of it- warning: spoilers for tboci ask blog and uh,,,,, suicide mention

sincere apollogies to apollo enjoyers. we’re breaking the fuckin child