#i still haven't gotten in the groove of their voices

[ell-vellan]

Excerpt from Tav and Halsin?

Thank you so much for enabling me! This was so difficult to smooth out enough to post, and I still don't love it, but you did motivate me to flesh it out quite a bit! So I appreciate it :)

Below the cut: druid Safiel has a student/teacher type crush on Halsin. He only now remembers that half-elves age quite differently to full-blooded ones, and to his surprise, she's not the child he assumed her to be.

He had called her “child” unthinkingly, more than once, without even pausing to consider whether it was actually true. Perhaps he had spent too long in meditative solitude, or too many years in too small a circle, and not enough time in the company of half-elves. But only when she mentioned something lightly in passing about her mother being human did everything click.

Halsin had been brooding on this for days as they traveled, having gotten to know his fellow druid and her ragtag bunch of ill-fated friends as they trekked through the Underdark. Safiel had followed his advice to avoid going overland to the Shadow-Cursed lands, pleasantly surprising him. And she continued to surprise him. No one who was not a female drow went lightly into the Underdark, but she had trusted him – a stranger – on his word alone.

Her druidic upbringing seemed quite different than his own, perhaps due to her being but half-wood elf instead of full. But it had been something they had in common, and Halsin had surprisingly enough enjoyed their intellectual discussions these past days. Safiel was refreshingly even-tempered, calmly and happily willing to explore the ways their philosophies diverged without hurt feelings or devolving into anger. Her view of the druid’s purpose in the balance of nature was more liberal than his own, perhaps, but she spoke so passionately and elegantly, he even began to find some parts of his foundational, long-held beliefs soften to new ideas for the first time since their formation.

Her wisdom ran deeper than he'd assumed, disguised by an easy smile and an absolutely guileless demeanor, which hid the years of her maturity.

To his growing shame, Halsin realized that not only had he called her a child, but may have inadvertently treated her as one, as well. Perhaps what he thought had been good-natured discussions had come across instead as patronizing or condescending, taking on the role of teacher as he was so wont to do, towards an adult woman who did not want or need to be taught about her own beliefs. 

Abashed, he played back his earliest conversations with her in his mind. At the time she had seemed rather young. Her energy was that of an idealistic youngster, not yet browbeaten by the trials of life. And when it seemed that perhaps she was flirting with him during that party in the grove, he had written it off as youthful infatuation, or perhaps just the passing fancies common to young elves, and gently and politely declined to entertain them.

Halsin felt he had learned much about her in a short time. She talked easily and fondly about the exploits of her former life, gregarious and lively stories entertaining them at camp. While listening to her speak of the adventures she'd had before her unfortunate kidnapping, he realized that she was no eager innocent child, but a fully grown woman, and one with strong convictions – even if she didn't treat them with the solemn responsibility he did his own.

He needed to rectify this embarrassing misunderstanding immediately.

Halsin waited until they had a modicum of privacy, the others bickering with some minor squabble up ahead. She switched her gaze from admiring the glowing mushrooms around them to smile as he approached, and his heart pounded with a strange rush of nerves. “I must offer my apologies, Safiel.”

“For what?” Her brow furrowed but slightly, and changed her pace to match his.

“I realize I may have…inadvertently caused some offense.”

“What do you mean?”

Uncomprehending, she gazed back at him with those two-toned eyes – one blue as the sky, one rich amber of the earth – and momentarily forgot where he was going. “I fear I may not have treated you as I should. When we first met, I believed you to be...quite young.” He cleared his throat as she pressed her lips together, holding back a smile. “That is – I hope you don't feel as though I disrespected you on purpose. Sometimes at my advanced age, I feel as though everyone around me is a child. If I spoke down to you in our earlier talks, I apologize whole-heartedly. I'm rather used to taking on a teaching role with younger druids, but in no way did I intend to treat you as such.”

Safiel looked at him askance and then laughed musically. “Oh! Is that all? I'm sure in your eyes, Halsin,  we all seem like children – except perhaps Astarion. I didn't take offense! I'm rather hard to offend, actually.” 

Halsin smiled and gave a sigh of relief. “Well, then…I'm glad to hear it.”

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of tease, and to his surprise, he felt a strange response in him, almost like the fluttering of butterflies. “I kind of gathered, based on a few things you said, that you might think something like that. And it’s not even the first time I’ve been mistaken as a silly young girl.  I’m nearly thirty, for the record, which I’m sure is nothing to you! But no, certainly I’ve not been a child in a long while. Please don’t apologize. I actually found it rather endearing.”

Safiel beamed at him, laughing again when he chuckled and ran his hand over his face. By Silvanus, his face was flushed.

“You talk about yourself as though you're a feeble old man,” she teased. 

“Certainly I must seem so to you. A grizzled old elder who cannot stop speaking of things long past.”

“I see a man in his prime, as a matter of fact.” Her voice warmed like honey, and he shot her a look, finding a new light dancing in her eyes, mischievous smile twisting at her lips. “A man admirably dedicated whole-heartedly to nature. And a wise scholar from whom I’ve already learned so much. Please, don’t say you’re going to stop teaching me now…as I’ve enjoyed it quite a lot.”

She grinned at him, and there was nothing for it but to smile back.

[hufflepuff-loverofslytherinboys]

Booty call pairing: basketball player!Lucas Scott x cheerleader!reader warnings: really none that I think off

notes: this is my very first writing and I am very new to writing so I am sorry!! I don't think there's any grammar mistakes or anything

word count: some amount of words

On this special night in tree hill, Lucas had just joined the basketball team and was playing his first game. He got in his head and felt as though he did terribly. He beat himself up about it and sat in the boy's locker room almost two full hours after the game. That is, until you walked in to check on the sad boy.

“Hey, Lucas.” You say, slowly walking from the door closer to where he is sitting on a bench, still in his basketball uniform and shoes with his head in his hands. He startles at the sound of your voice, looking up to see your beautiful self.

“Hi,” he musters out, putting his face back in his hands. “Who are you?”

“Y/n, you probably don't really know me, I'm a cheerleader. I saw you playing tonight and I thought you'd need some company after the game.” You sit next to him and place a hand on his back.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he says, lifting his head up to look at you. “But I'd prefer to be alone.”

“Right. But I just wanted to tell you, I know you think you were awful tonight just because you didn't make a single basket,” that sentence alone elicits a groan from the boy. “But I know that you can make baskets, you just haven't gotten the groove of the new team, new court, and new attire.” You touch his jersey. He looks up at you with his deep, blue eyes and nods his head.

“Thanks, y/n.”

“You're welcome, Lucas. I'll see you around okay?”

“Okay.”

The following week, the ravens won against the pirates at a home game. This time, Lucas scored 21 points.

You meet Lucas in the locker room like you did last week to congratulate him.

“Hey, Scott!” you say, running up to him.

“Hey, y/n! I did good this time!” He said, smiling at you.

“I know, I believed you could do it!” You said hugging him. He smelled of sweat-off cologne, but you didn't mind it.

“Thanks.” He says as he pulls away from the hug and looks deeply into your eyes. You have to admit, you sort of have a bit of a crush on Lucas, but there's no way he'd feel the same, right? Wrong. Because this handsome boy in front of you right now is leaning in to kiss you and you won't let him will you? Wrong, again!

His lips are soft and tenderly kiss yours. He pulled away after a couple seconds and stared at you, waiting for an answer as to if that was okay or not. But instead of giving a good response the poor boy wanted, you pulled a Rory Gilmore from Gilmore girls and said…

“Thanks.”

And you were off like the Flash, running straight to your house, not even waiting for Lucas to come give you a ride. You were too embarrassed to even face your family, running straight to your room and closing the door. That night, you were expecting texts from Lucas saying “What was that?” or “Hey, you okay?” But no, there was nothing. You felt awful.

The next day at school, you looked for Lucas everywhere but couldn't find him. Like he was using secret passage ways to get to classes. After school was over you waited by Lucas's car for your annual ride home together, but he didn't come. Like he knew you were there and he was avoiding you. Oh God, was he avoiding you?

You went inside looking for him on the basketball court and there he was. He was just shooting some practice free throws. You debated on how to approach him, but one way popped into your mind.

“You know, you're a really great kisser.” You said walking towards him.

“I am?” He responds, turning towards you and setting his ball down on the ball rack.

“Yes, quite a bit. And I'm sorry about how I reacted the other day.”

“Hey, hey, don't be. I get it, you were nervous. Was it your first kiss?” Lucas questions stepping closer to you. You nod, getting butterflies at his movements towards you. “I see, maybe we could have a bit of a do over for your ‘first kiss’. And maybe this time, I'll say thanks.” He chuckles a bit as you playfully hit his arm. You guys lean in and kiss for a second time, this time being a little bit more passionate.

Okay, you guys have been kissing for quite some time now. One minute, two minutes, three minutes!! Three minutes go by, and you're still kissing! Luckily, you slightly pull away to get some air. But Lucas doesn't stop there.

“Lucas?” You breathily question as he kisses and sucks on your neck. He mumbles a little something against your skin before pulling away and looking into your eyes.

“You're beautiful, y/n. And I really, really like you after hanging out with you for the past couple of weeks. Would you be my girlfriend..?”

“Yes, Lucas.” He picked you up and spun you around like in those cheesy romance movies. After he set you down he kissed you one final time before he took you home.

I'm so sorry guys, this was so bad!!!! It was my first one I'm sorry!!

[dreadfulgentleman]

People keep mentioning interviews of Meet the Robinsons characters, but I have no idea where to find them. Do you know where I can find the interviews?

Without more info to go on, I can only assume what you're referring to, anon, so hopefully this answers your question. Feel free to message me again if this isn't what you're talking about. A few of the voice actors from Meet the Robinsons were given a fun task of answering interview questions while in character. There are interviews from Goob, Mr. Willerstein, Lewis, Wilbur, Mildred, Carl, Art/Gaston, Lazlo/Tallulah, and Franny. Some of these interviews were a mix between asking in-character questions while others were just casual questions for the actor. (For example, a lot of young Goob's first monologue in the opening of the film was taken from Director Stephen J. Anderson simply asking Matthew Josten how his real-life baseball activities were going. The resulting answer led to him saying, "We've lost every game. Yesterday, the score was 1-13... It's about having fun, really. I don't really care about winning... Well, like, now I do, 'cause, like, we've lost every game, I've gotten tired of it. Come on! Let's play some baseball, okay! Okay? Not the lazy game."**) **Despite the in-movie quote being taken from what Matthew Josten literally said, he still had to re-record the real lines later. At first, these interviews were just for fun. A way to get the actors in the groove and warm up. As time went on, some of these interviews were written on purpose to give the animators something to play with and a get a feel for the characters. It is possible that these could have become bonus content at some point, but they never went anywhere and so they remained shelved. The only time I've ever seen anything said online about this content was back when this blog used to be a Meet the Robinsons themed blog and I shared behind-the-scenes fun facts and trivia from the film. I believe I had once posted summarized text snippets from these interviews as part of the 10th anniversary celebration that the fandom was going through at the time. Since having changed my blog's theme since then, those old posts were deleted. As far as I'm aware, these interviews cannot be found online. But I haven't done an extensive search into what's available online these days with MTR content, so who knows!

[delopsia]

Conquer Your Demons | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 3,300 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, demon!Rhett, food mentions, unprotected sex, blatantly defiling a church, cunnilingus, mild cum eating, post-coital cuddles. Usage of the Standing Amazon Position in the beginning (in case my description was too vague)🧡 Perry Abbott is on fire. Brief Summary: Fuck, you hope nobody comes to check in on how this whole cleansing process is going. Because there is nothing that can possibly explain the sight of a demon on his knees, eating you out on the altar. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"

"It's a little bit late for that, don't you think?" You hum, voice echoing, bouncing off the bare walls of this old, one-room church. Ricocheting through unoccupied, dusty pews and rattling up into the rafters. Built centuries ago, has been witness to hundreds of Sunday sermons, weddings, and funerals.

But never has it been witness to something like this. 

"No, no, no, please," Rhett's sweaty chest heaves, keening high in his throat, your cunt clamping down around his twitching cock like a vice. His ankles quiver against your shoulders, fluttering like leaves in a bracing breeze. "I'll be good. I'll be good."

His tail thrashes between your legs, smacking against your thighs. Horns knocking into the wooden table as his head rolls back and forth, trying to shake you away like a bed dream. Skin glistening in the dancing candlelight, muscles rippling, flexing as he squirms. Your fingertips pinch at a soft nipple, awestruck by how his back arches, jolting up from the edge of the table. 

"You should have thought of that before you tried to kill Pastor Perry," your greedy hands run across his burning skin. Roaming the vast expanse of his upper body, tickling down his sides, feeling the subtle grooves of his ribcage. So perfectly compressed, knees mere inches away from being pressed up against his chest, powerless to let you have your way with him and his cock. 

Your shoes click against the floor as you raise yourself up, knees straightening to allow yourself the room to reach down to where your bodies meet. 

"That bastard had it comin'—aa!" His hissed words cut short by the gentle squeeze of your hand around his balls. A poorly concealed warning. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"

And you really should be giving him more hell for that. Make him lay still while you press his pale knees into his chest and make him beg you to move. Completely, utterly powerless in this position. 

But you can't focus, not with the way the pale undersides of his thighs tremble beneath your palms. Already pushed to his limits, and you've just sunk down onto him less than two minutes ago. 

"Are you close already, cowboy?" You coo, squeezing the meat of his thighs in your hands, feeling how they flex in your grasp. 

His hair shakes as he nods his head with a whimper of a "uhuh." Those pretty blue eyes falling shut, breathy noises whittling out of his throat with every breath. 

For a demon, he sure looks like an angel. 

Sounds like it too. 

"But I haven't even gotten started with you yet," your words whiny, bottom lip jutting out to create a false pout, feigning disappointment. 

Stradling him in this position is difficult. Riding him would have been a much easier solution, and your knees surely would have thanked you for it, but there's something about this that has your heart speeding up. Rhett fucking Abbott. The deity that's been haunting Wabang for the past six years, on his back, thighs to his chest, whimpering as you begin to move. Working yourself up and down his cock that's peeking so prettily from between his thighs. 

Pearly white teeth glint in the light as his mouth falls open, unable to shut it. "Thank you, thank...thank—" your fingers delve between his lips. Unfearing as they spread out, dancing past razor-sharp canines. A short, hot tongue laps against them, twisting between each digit, sucking lazily.

"Look at you," you're musing aloud, unable to keep yourself quiet as you find your pace. Button-down shirt clinging to your overheated skin, sweat brought on by the way his leaking cock head drills up into you. The gentle curve allowing him to drag so wondrously against your g-spot, the little bundle of nerves tingling with every touch. "Aren't you supposed to be scary, cowboy?"

Those horns bump into the sides of the table once more, his head thrashing, unable to do anything more than just that. Tries to speak, but the fingers in his mouth muffle him, intelligible words vibrating through your hand and up into your arm.

"What would the townsfolk think if they saw you like this?" You're painfully aware of what your words are doing to him, those midnight blue eyes flashing open, only for them to roll back into his head. Such a sight that only serves to send a wave of heat between your legs. "The big bad demon, getting fucked in the only church in town?" 

Oh, how you can hear the town gossip now. The same gaggle of ladies, aghast as they discuss the sins committed atop the altar. Fanning their faces with their hands and speaking as if they are higher than thou.

Their loss. 

Because you are the only person who gets to experience this. 

The sweet burn in your thighs as you ride him, hips working in their favorite, languid rhythm. Your head fuzzy with the way his thick cock fills you, rubbing past every little sensitive area, nerves alight. Saliva coats your hand, shimmering beneath the candlelight like it's trying to put on a show.

"Baby, you're drooling everywhere..." pulling your dripping fingers from his mouth in favor of seizing him by the jaw. Two days' worth of unshaven scruff scratching at your skin.

Rhett's body jerks upward, snapping up into your cunt with a strength he shouldn't have. "M' gonna...baby..." His arms wind around his thighs, pulling them from your shoulders and up against his chest. Squeezing them tight, like he needs something to keep him from bursting. 

"Close already, pretty boy?" Dropping from his jaw, your hand roams down his neck. Doesn't stop until your wet fingertips find a dusky pink nipple, pinching it, if only to see him jolt.

Those pretty curls bounce as he nods his head, "Uhuh." So weak and breathy. Punctuated by a choked whimper.

"Come on then," taunting, fighting to keep your own voice level. You can already feel the way he's beginning to twitch inside of you, bumping up into those little nerves. "Cum in me like a good boy."

One of his hands snaps up. Clamping down over his mouth just in time to muffle what sounds like a squeal. Suddenly afraid to hear his own noises. Palm trembling like a leaf. Jittery. So out of control that there's not a bit of resistance when you reach up to pull it away. 

"You can do it, come on," you can't catch your own breath. Fuck, it's like he was designed to get you worked up. Your body hard to control as your walls flutter around his cock, spasming with something that makes your eyes unfocus. 

A cry catches in Rhett's throat. Cut off by the sudden convulsion of his hips, cumming with a silent noise that rattles through your ears. Familiar heat spills inside of you, his eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. 

Oh, he's so pretty like this. Face lax, almost peaceful. Until it's not. Scrunching shut, nose wrinkling, a string of confused whimpers sputtering past his thin lips. Because you're still moving. Bringing yourself up, only to sink back down on his softening cock, uncaring of the growing discomfort.

"What's the matter, cowboy?" You tease, your hands hooking beneath the backs of his knees, unwilling to let them fall off to the sides. 

"Can't," his voice unusually pitchy, "Sensitive—!" 

You can feel it. The way he twitches with your every movement. Too overstimulated to handle anything more but unable to wriggle away from it. His hands clamp down over top of yours, squeezing, needs to hang onto something. 

"You can take it," you don't know if it's meant to be encouragement or a reminder, but you're saying it regardless, "You've done it before."

That little bull tail of his is swishing between your thighs, smacking against the sensitive skin there on its own accord. He's lucky you can't reach down and squeeze it at the base, hold it down until he gives you what you want. 

There's a newfound ache in your knees as you begin to move quicker, chasing the feeling of his spent cock working in and out of you. Seeking that little spot that he's no longer hitting. Cum spilling out, running down your thighs, and falling to the hardwood floor.

"Baby, baby, please I—" his tongue loose in his mouth, "I'm—I'm sorry!" 

Too little too late. 

He should have thought of the consequences when he decided to knock that candle onto pastor Perry's coattails and set him ablaze in the middle of service. No matter how you twist it, such an act doesn't qualify as a mild haunting. A little something spooky that remains harmless. 

Your body twitches, exhausted muscles acting on their own accord. The blunt head of his weeping cock bumps into a familiar, sensitive spot. Has your pussy tightening around him like a vice, ripping that wail right out of his chest. 

"Gonna..." that deep voice of his babbles. His mouth still moving, but not a sound coming out. 

"Already?" Fuck, it's hard to feign disappointment when he looks up at you with those watery eyes. Tears welling but not quite spilling over. Not yet. 

Long gone is his composure. His ability to remain quiet. Reduced to breathy whimpers and grunts punctuated by the lewd smack of skin on skin. And maybe some of those noises are coming from you, too, because there's a rawness in your throat that wasn't there before. Gasping for air, can't seem to get enough of it. Sweat beading at your forehead. 

He knocks into that spongey spot inside by pure luck. Your dripping cunt squeezing him for all he's worth, eager for more, more, more. And he's got no choice but to lay back and give it to you. 

You don't realize he's cumming until you feel the pitiful twitch of his cock. His body going still as tears tumble down his flushed cheeks, decades worth of strong muscle contracting, back rising up from the table one more time. Mouth moving around the familiar shape of your name, but not a sound leaving his throat.

"Plaid," Rhett's voice cracks on the vowels. Shattering like glass. "Plaid, plaid, plaid—"

You're already pulling off of him. Numb feet stumbling as you finally, finally change your stance. Standing upright, soothing your clammy palms over his soft thighs. 

"Too much?" Something pops in your neck as you lean down to press a kiss to his knee, scarred from that time he got spritzed with holy water. So much for him being invincible.

His horns thunk against the edge of the table, eyes unfocused as he mouths something you can't hear. "Want..." but he doesn't finish his sentence. Leaving his thought dangling in the air as he squirms, sweaty skin gleaming in the light, fumbling up to his own two feet. 

"Rhett?" You don't understand what he's trying to do, but he's planting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you up against the corner of the altar. Uncaring of the way the sharp corner digs into your skin or of your repeating of his name.

"Want..." he repeats. 

Rhett's knees thunk against the floor, the deep noise shaking these old church walls. Nose bumping into your thigh as he leans forward, eyes closed, blindly nuzzling his face between your legs. 

Oh. 

That wet tongue licks a fat stripe between your folds, serves to stifle his whimper as he settles against you. Drool pours from his thin lips as he twirls over your clit, too lazy, too eager to spend his time working you up.

"Good lord, Rhett," your words carried by a whispy gasp, reaching down to grab hold of those study horns. None of this is what you had in mind, but as he peeks up at you, lips wrapping around your swollen clit, you can't bring yourself to care about what should have been. "Is this what you were wanting?" 

His answer comes in the form of big hands grasping the backs of your thighs, not letting you squirm away as he nuzzles impossibly closer. That tongue of his rubs back and forth, the scruff of his cheek rubbing against you. Tiny, wet sounds, viciously loud. 

Fuck, you hope nobody comes to check in on how this whole cleansing process is going. 

Because there is nothing that can possibly explain the sight of a demon on his knees, eating you out on the altar. His spent, soft cock resting against his thigh, cum staining the insides of your thighs. Your pants have likely fallen into the seventh circle of hell by now, never to be seen again.

That burning mouth of his sinks lower, tail swishing behind him as he pushes his tongue into you without warning. Unphased of the mess he's left there, languidly working in and out of your pussy, soft noises emanating from the back of his throat. The tip of his nose nudges your clit with each and every motion. Enough to have you squirming, pulling on his horns. Unsure of if you want more or less.

"Y'taste so good," he's speaking right into you, each syllable rattling up your fragile core. Fuck, fuck, fuck, when did his voice get so deep? 

It's difficult to miss that pleased grin, poorly masked by your dripping sex, as he pulls his tongue from you. Licking his way up up up to your clit once more. A dull tingle appears as he twirls over top of it, not sure if it's brought on by the act itself or the way he whimpers when your hips jolt forward.

"Cum on my face," he breathes, punctuated by an honorary pause to suck on that swollen little button once more. Can't keep himself away for more than a few seconds at a time. Such a simple thing that shouldn't have you trembling the way that it does. "Please cum on my face." 

Deep in your chest, your heart flutters. Weakly battering against your rib cage as that tingling spreads, skin pricking with it, a twisting heat blooming between your legs. And Rhett's pressing harder, whining your name, and it's too much. Too much. 

One, two, three more flicks of his tongue, and your head is tilting back. Pulling hard on those soft horns as you cum with a cry that rattles through every square foot of this old church. Hips convulsing as he licks you through it, oversensitive, but your head so far up in the clouds that you can't remember how to speak. 

Your lungs are burning.

So are your knees. Crumbling out from under you without warning or notice. 

The big arms that catch you are the only reason you don't hit the floor with an earth-shattering boom. Pulling you away from the cold hardwood and into a sweaty, sticky chest. 

Getting back up would be the wiser option; go back home before anyone decides to pop in, hoping for a glimpse of the supernatural, but you're all out of good ideas for today. Scooting until your back rests against the wallpaper-clad wall, welcoming a rosy-cheeked cowboy into your arms.

"I didn't mean..." Rhett's horns knock against your shoulder as he settles. Such pretty things, pearly white in color, once the classic steer shape, now cut short by the hands of his own kin. "Didn't mean to...I didn't think the fire would..."

"I know," you whisper, your hands curling into his hair. "But you can't be doing things like that, Rhett." He could use a good bath, but you hardly mind the salty bite of sweat as you press a kiss to his forehead. 

There's something sweet about the way that he squirms even closer, seeking refuge in the crook of your neck. Like he thinks that making himself small enough will erase the theatrics that was earlier today. The yelling. The screaming. The arguing over which hunter to call. 

Rhett's soft purr almost gets you to shut up. Almost. "Do you know how bad things could have gotten if they called the Tillerson Twins instead of me?" 

"Could move towns again," he murmurs like he's given this some thought. Has had plenty of time to, being locked up in this place all damn afternoon. 

"Yes, but what happens when someone realizes that the hauntings only occur where I live?" That's the last thing that you need. For someone to poke their nose where it doesn't belong and realize that these events follow your every move. Realize that you're actively working with a demon to make a living, scaring folks into paying your hefty fee to cleanse their home. 

"Ain't no-one fixin' to figure us out," Rhett's head tilts, leaning up to press a kiss to your jaw. The uneven edge of his horn bumps into your ear. Scratchy. "They think demons eat people, remember?" 

Your chest rises and falls with a giggle. "In some forms of the phrase, they're not wrong."

The whites of Rhett's eyes flash. Rolling back into his head. 

You hope they get stuck.

"Funny," one of his scarred hands raise, wiping at his chin, still soaked from his efforts. 

Without rhyme or reason, you're reaching out, taking hold of that strong, prickly jaw. Watching how he lets you tilt and turn his head, not the slightest hint of resistance. Your thumb presses against his lips, and they part, humming as you pin his wriggling tongue to the bottom of his mouth. Completely and utterly pliant.

Cute.

"I say," speaking with your thumb still in his mouth, sucking on it during its retreat, "that y'let me haunt that cute lil' bakery down the road." 

"I'm not letting you rob a bakery blind," you groan, head thunking back against the wall. It always circles back to the restaurants and the cute little bakeries. Like he doesn't get enough from licking the cookie dough off the spoon and quietly bugging you for bites of the dinner, he said he didn't want.

"Come on!" There's that whine of his, batting those thick lashes up at you. If he could, he'd be forcing tears to well in those deep blue eyes. "We get paid, and we get free donuts!" 

Tempting. But contrary to the popular belief of the public, you still cling to a few of your morals. And that includes not causing a pastry crisis in Wabang."I'll buy you a dozen when I pay our rent tomorrow." 

With a huff, Rhett falls back into your chest. Dramatic. "Fine," but you can hear the smile in his voice. A little bit excited. 

You need to get going. The first of the birds are beginning to chirp, and with them, sunrise is sure to come. Bringing life back to the streets of Wabang and prying eyes who won't take too kindly to the swishing tail and short horns of a demon walking amongst them. 

But he's so warm. 

All swollen muscles and soft grumbles, snuggling up like you're his favorite pillow. Content to lay here forever, with his ear listening to the quiet thump of your heart and feeling your hands roam up and down his spine. And quite frankly, you're content to stay here too. Even if the hard floor is making your ass go numb.

"Your method could use some work," Rhett yawns, rubbing his cheek against you, trying to burrow himself closer, "my back hurts."

Well, in that case... "That just cost you a donut." 

His head snaps up. Eyes wide. "You wouldn't."

"I would," defiantly sticking to your guns. 

You have a half second to scramble to your feet before Rhett is pouncing on you. All giggles and empty threats as he fumbles after you, chasing your half-naked form down the aisle. Tearing around corners and ducking between pews, hastily searching for clothes that you don't remember taking off.

"I'm gonna get you!" Rhett's only got one boot on. The other flailing in his hand as he races out the front doors, hot on your tail. 

And get you he will.

If he can ever catch you, that is. 

[rimouskis]

okay here are ALL the other music rec asks, all in one post!

@paintingtheice asked: song recs! the whole Commie Cowboy album by Pink Williams is great, but I Don't Know About You is one of my favourites! along that line, Draft Dodger Rag by Phil Ochs always makes me giggle :D

ahh I've seen this musician on tiktok!! I haven't heard the full album though, thanks for reminding me. I enjoy the old-school-country, political edge to it. bringing that political edge in, here's some music from 2016: "aquarius apocalyptic" by stop light observations

Anonymous asked: living room floor by sammy rae and the friends for the song game!!

nice, light instrumentation, unique voice. I like it! in return, I give you: "atomized" by andrew bird

Anonymous asked: this is about to be a mouthful but i’ve really been loving “rage against the dying of the light” by the world is a beautiful place and i am not afraid to die

loving the song name and band title, haha. and I like the groove of the song, too! it makes me nostalgic for this band, who my sister and I first found back when I was in high school: "bang bang" by hippo campus

@entzleboffin asked: Music rec: frown by mxmtoon. This song is such a bop

This is sweet! it actually reminds me of some of the kpop I used to listen to? saccharine, sweet, boppy. it's a feel good song, so I'm going to give you MY feel good song in return: "good news" by MUNA

Anonymous asked: For the music ask - Jailbreak by Thin Lizzy?

omg more 70s rock. delightful! here's some modern rock... "dim the lights" by mitchell martin.

@jayyynine asked: Song: tighten up - the black keys

I love the black keys! I hope you like this song in return: "strange" by stuck on planet earth

Anonymous asked: For the song ask - Never Say Never by Romeo Void. :D

this is so cool! I've never heard of this song or band. can I give you some laura jane grace in return?

Anonymous asked: Lol I’ve actually wanted to ask about that for a bit. I really loved 32 Days by Numblife from one of your edits and i wanted to ask if you got any recommendations

ooo thanks! that was from the teaser vid I made for my fic TKK. I hope you've gotten the chance to listen to both the playlists for TKK and its sequel. they both have more... thematically similar songs? but I love 32 days, it has such a unique sound. if you want similarly dark... this is less rockish, but still an intense song, I'd go with "parasites" by san fermin

...actually I'm going to give you two recs. here's the second one:

Anonymous asked: The Lathums - The Redemption of Sonic Beauty <3

this song was pretty!! in return, here is: "are you wanting it all" by youth club

[katsukikitten]

Imagine betting your life on a hanafuda koi koi game and winning, which is no surprise you always win. You haven't been beaten once since you turned sixteen and now a decade later the gambling on the game has gotten you far.

So when the cruel Oiran of the house asks you to play a high stake game and you win she doesn't particularly like that.

Asking you to play own more round but against her brother. If you win you get to leave this place debt free.

"And my friend? I want her to be debt free as well."

Before she can agree to the condition her brother crawls out of her spine, twisted smile on his face that makes your blood run cold.

"That's fine but if I win I get to keep your pretty little friend and my sister is free to do with you as she pleases."

"That's fine. I won't lose." Your friend is gripping your bicep, it's unbelievable what you'll wager. She isn't sure if this is a skewed kind gesture or if betting your own life has grown boring.

This is a game of strategy, wits and a lot of luck. You had an abundance of all three but especially the luck.

So when you barely lose by a point in the sixth round, by a boring chaff no less while you were building a up the five lights after so dangerously declaring koi koi in the last round.

He sets his cards down on the silky play mat with a sharp toothed smile.

Your friend shaking you now, her nails biting into your skin as you stare at the board. You hadn't lost, hardly anyone paid attention to their chaff stack when the game was neck in neck.

But he did.

And you cannot imagine your life any worse than it is now. To become the Oiran's play thing or worse from the rumors you heard that were confirmed by the look of her skeletal brother.

Still you look up the malnourished man, the demon's yellow eye twinkling with kanji and mirth. Smug smile on his lips as he hunches over the board long fingers reaching out for your friend who tries to hide behind your shoulder.

"Double or nothing." He laughs at your suggestion, it echoes around the small room and it feels as if teeth are scrapping over your bones.

"What left do you have to give?" He grips at your cheeks, smashing them together and causing bruises to bloom.

"I'll bring more people here for you. I'll lure a demon slayer."

"Don't." Your friend hisses, "Please."

Still you stare at him and that's longer than any normal human ever could. His frown quickly morphs into a grin before he leans closer, looking over your shoulder a moment to spy tour friend he's had his eye one. His free hand going to his throat to scratch deep grooves in his skin as he thinks.

"Fine, but even if you win, the two of you will still have to stay. Still indebted to the house. Since it's double or nothin. Remember? "

"I am aware of what double or nothing means. Let's sweeten it, when I win, you cannot harm myself or her." You pass the wooden cards to your friend to shuffle before lying out the top three.

"It ain't a matter of when you when, it's when you lose."

You heart soars win you turn it over and pick a card from March and when he turns his over it's god damn January.

He deals, he goes first.

This time, it's obvious, he isn't planning on toying with you as he did before. This time he's leaning more towards strategy while you rely heavily on your luck. Not knowing the demon has been forced to play by his sister for centuries. So your skills were in their infancy, although impressive. No one had ever beaten his sister aside from himself.

Still luck was never on his side, so he didn't plan to give you breathing room. Getting a fine set of blue poetry slips, three lights and declaring in his gravely voice "Koi koi."

He watches your face morph anxiously, you had nothing, hardly anything for one point and he already had the card he needed in his hand for four lights.

Laughing as he watches your face fall, scoring thirty points in a matter of thirty seconds. Quick to start the next round, barely fighting back his quest for a cherry blossom viewing as you completed your red slips. Giving you an easy five points.

The fourth round you Koi Koi recklessly and he easily ruines your 20 points with his one with a completed set of boar, deer, butterfly.

By the fifth round you've barely one again by two points and by the sixth he sees the sweat on your brow and that of your pretty friend.

He watches you, biting your lip and it's funny how much it reminds him of taking a life. Like a fight as he watches you desperately claw at the inevitable, you and your friend would soon be theirs as they pleased.

But you get two points on a measly set of seeds. Although you were set up pretty evenly, it was risky with what he had set up as well. A needing four more to complete a chaff or even two more poetry slips to win the round by one point.

"Koi koi."

"You love to push it don't ya?" He laughs again but you're focused, feeling desperate and a bit lucky. Drawing the cards you need as he's having to place on the board, matches becoming more difficult this late in the round.

And somehow in just a few easy moves you do it. You score 38 points.

Beating him by five by the end of the sixth round. Jumping to your feet with a shout and he pulls out a blood scythe. Slamming it into your silky play mat and pulling it to him to count.

"Cheating.

"Never. A deals a deal even to a demon." You laugh loudly and your friend clings to you with shaky hands. You collect your cards and mat from the demons relieved that they cannot harm the two of you.

At least until your next game of hanafuda koi koi.

[dzpenumbra]

12/23/22

Alright well... over the past few days I have been followed by 12 bots. And I just tried to do my civic duty and report these things... and... I can't really find a good way to do that. I mean, the thing that made the most sense was "impersonation". Because, you know, they're not actually people, and they steal people's likenesses for profile pictures - which is surreally creepy, I mean honestly, imagine running across a profile that wasn't yours that had your face as a profile pic, good lord my heart goes out to those people, that's haunting. But Tumblr won't even let you file an impersonation report unless you are the person in the photograph. Is this a thing where fucking idiot teenagers cried wolf too many times? This shit is out of control.

I mean, for me it's just obnoxious, and super depressing, but for a site as a whole it's just a really fuckin bad look. Just sayin.

Okay. I'm done talking about that. XD Today was... unexpectedly productive.

I woke up early, like 6 hours of sleep early. Like my essential oil diffuser hadn't even gone into hibernation mode because it hadn't finished its 6 hour shift yet. I woke up and went back to sleep a few times, tried to browse social media to reset the vibes. It's just a comfort thing, again my dreams haven't even been bad, just vivid. But I'm so fucking useless to the world when I first wake up that I don't even have the wherewithal to remember to write my dreams down. I remember reflexively trying to capture highlights when I first woke up, but it was like trying to hold water in trembling hands or something. I guess I'm just out of practice. I need to get back into doing a pre-sleep mantra kinda thing to remind my subconscious to practice, every second counts when it comes to dream recall.

When I finally got up for real, I got kitty some food, got some breakfast and decided to start recording for a new Rimworld series. Yep, a new project. Another one. And a fucking movie, to boot. So the concept is to take a playthrough and record it, paying close attention to story points the best I can and trying to get good cinematic shots. I want to do a sorta... RP playthrough, voicing over the main character through the form of a journal or log or something, recalling her story. Or someone reading her journal or something. That part I won't be able to figure out until the story is over. But I'm doing the new DLC and I'm playing the Sanguiphage scenario, but with a bunch of mods for more immersion and personality. And I plan to do a movie of it, rather than do it episodic like my last one. And very in-character. I think it'll come out pretty cool, time will tell. It's a good longer term project because I can do other projects while it plays itself in the background.

The first playthrough was a bust, it went south very quick and the story wasn't really interesting. The setup was amazing, but they just got taken out by wildlife in the first week so that was like... bummer. So I did yoga, showered and went skating. Skating was pretty sick. I got a few 3 shuvs pretty clean, I got a standing still heelflip (which I haven't gotten in probably 2 years?), a moving kickflip and found this... I don't know what it was, some kind of big metal cover on something? I packed snow around it and set up a ride-on grind and it slid okay. I got a 5-0 across the whole thing, it was like 8 feet or something. But... yep, there's a but... I tried a boardslide, and I really was hesitating for a while because I didn't know how it was gonna go... and there was a big screw thing poking up that I didn't see... and it tore up the bottom of my board pretty bad. And now there's a big groove in it and it just... killed all my speed. Even on flat. Even on hills. I'll see how much tuning it up will do, but to be honest, it's really deep. So... fingers crossed, we'll see how that goes tomorrow.

Came back, made buffalo chicken pizza, which came out really good. Did all the dishes and cleaned the counters. Killed it. Played/recorded a new Rimworld playthrough over dinner and it looks promising. When I was getting a little... bored of it... I had something pop into my head. I don't know how I got to it but... when I was packing, some random dude sent me a message on Reddit. He was replying to a post he put up 9 FUCKING YEARS AGO. He was requesting a Baroness tab, back then I did full-band tabulature, transcribing by ear for every instrument. You know, as educational tools, so people can learn how to play the songs they love. That's how I learned guitar. My acoustic case is still full of printed out sheets of tabs, like dozens of them. This dude wanted me to tab out Mtns. (The Crown and Anchor) by Baroness, off Yellow, and I didn't know the song well. But I took it on. I remember doing it, and getting really close to finishing it. Then I'm guessing my life went to shit, because I never sent it to him. And that harddrive is now pretty much fucked. Pretty sure, not really brave enough to try to get shit off of it again.

So... I had a thought. Why the hell am I putting in effort to make Christmas gifts for people who treat me like garbage? Why don't I give this a go, make a special gift for someone who obviously really cares about this song so much that they're going to follow up on it almost a decade later. And I did. And I fucking hyperfocused on it the way that only transcribing music and super inspired art can do for me. I sunk into that for probably 3-4 hours? Lost all perception of time. I transcribed most of both electric guitars and bass, drums are gonna be tomorrow along with the acoustic and lead guitars. I'd say the bulk of it is done though. Pretty cool feeling. It's been a while.

So, I'm gonna drop the tab to that guy on Christmas, and he better have Guitar Pro because I really don't feel like doing any of that .gp5 conversion or - god forbid - make it a pdf or some shit. I mean, I can if I have to, but like... I put a lot of work into getting the sound right, you know? They're kinda meant to be experienced in Guitar Pro.

So yeah, that was pretty much my day. Now it's almost 3AM again. And all the snow is disappearing. But it's okay, I have plenty of really cool shit to do.

Kitty is calling, bed time.

[transfennecbuddy]

So I've just gotten to listen to CircusP (who apparently goes by VocaCircus on YouTube? Just in case someone looks them up and gets confused) and even though I haven't listened to a bunch of their songs, I'd just like to highlight Enough, their most recent song (since August 4th). Like, my god. It's really good. I can't put it into words as well as the last one cause the last one was really good musically and this one appeals to me because of the words and emotion.

But the music is so good too. The Vocaloid voice threw me off at the beginning just like it always does, but there's a certain quality of it (that I don't know the name of) that made the lyrics near the end hit harder, like the singer was on the edge of tears, they were so emotional. (Like, if someone did an animation to this, that would be the point where they'd draw their character crying and singing desperately, clutching their chest as their words hitched, or screaming and pointing angrily, or breaking down on the other side of a door, kind of emotional.) And that last chorus, where the singing is interrupted by moments of quiet counting (like peace but not)? I love it so much, the song already made me feel sad but that drove it home so much more.

Also the whole song has a quiet groove to it, like you're still sad but it's irresistibly groovy nonetheless. (The second chorus in particular feels like it should be the basis of an animation meme. If it isn't, someone should definitely make one based on this!) And it just builds to the end so well. Plus, the counting pauses the groove just enough to be super interesting while also making it more irresistible!

All in all, VERY good song! I love it. I definitely won't be able to listen to this on repeat unless I want to be sad, but it's still very much being added to my Vocaloid playlist. And thanks to @bothersome-edgar for recommending CircusP to me! I'm really glad I didn't miss out on this song, and I'm definitely gonna listen to more of CircusP's songs in my free time!

[sakuric]

study dates -> akaashi keiji

synopsis!the love you felt for keiji was growing bigger and bigger, suffocating you more and more each day, but you still didn't let yourself confess. all it took was rejection to finally word how you feel about him.

pairing!keiji akaashi x gn!reader

genre!fluff

warnings!slight cursing

wc!1886

gen taglist! @graykageyama @elixhirs @soranihimawari @admiringlove @softieynnie

a/n!hello babes :3 this is a short? not rly drabble dedicated to my dear sam @admiringlove , and every akaashi stan reading !! this wasn't proof read, but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

you were in love. in love with a boy whose presence made your heart skip a beat. in love with a boy whose hands are gorgeous, but he hides them everytime someone, who isn’t you, around him. he's a boy you've been in love with for a long time now, yet you can't gather the courage to let yourself tell him.

"hello, y/n. are you ready to study?" akaashi asked, sitting down opposite of you at the table. you were doing your study session in the library, as you do every week. although bokuto, akaashi's friend, once joked that you two go out on study "dates", but neither of you found it funny. and it made you worry, why akaashi didn't find it funny. of course, he doesn't usually laugh at bokuto's jokes, and he usually answers with a snarky remark, but he stayed quiet that time.

"l/n?" akaashi waved a hand in front of your face, causing you to flinch out of your daydream. "oh, uh, yes i'm ready." you smiled softly, opening your biology book, but akaashi noticed something wrong.

"you sure? we can skip today if you want."

"oh, no, akaashi, it's okay. i'm okay." you gave him a soft smile before continuing to read. "so what i'm thinking is-"

"what i'm thinking..." akaashi interrupted, a hand slid across the table to close your book, his deep emerald eyes gazing back at your own. you gulped, swallowing any sign of anxiety that could be visible. but it didn't help, akaashi knew you well, and he knew how fidgety you get when you’re anxious for something, so when he saw you anxiously play with your nails while waiting for him, he knew something was up. "is that we can continue this later. do you want to go out with me, y/n?"

as the words left his mouth, your body stiffened, your breath came to a halt for just a moment, and your palms started sweating heavily. "like- like on a date...?"

"yes, y/n, like on a date." akaashi let out a laugh, mumbling "cutie" before sitting back in his chair. "i'll let you think about it, and if you say yes, i'll see you tomorrow at eight pm, by the crooked tree in the campus park, deal?"

"deal."

—

the next evening came faster than expected. and you weren’t really confident with your choice to go on the date akaashi suggested. what did you have to wear? did you have to bring anything? was it a friendly date? the answers to these questions were too unknown to you, but nonetheless, you couldn’t disappoint your best friend, right?

“i was thinking you forgot about the date.” akaashi’s voice ringed in your ear, your body shifting immediately towards the origin of the sound. your eyes scanned his body; a university hoodie, a pair of black, skinny jeans, and his beloved converse shoes. you swooned over how he dressed, for the study sessions he’d wear a beige button up with a sweater-vest on top and some formal, checkered pants. but for afterschool chats and hanging out, he dressed nearly opposite.

“are you alright? why are you not saying anything…”

“you.. look nice.” you mumbled, stepping closer to him, in hopes that your anxiety will calm and let you speak the words you wished to say.

“thank you, y/n. you look nice too.” he smiled softly, his emerald orbs scanning your face for any discomfort. akaashi was good - he was good at identifying different emotions of people, even if there was the slightest change in a person's body language, he could already identify why and what they felt. he was also good for you, and you knew if he’d reject you, he’d try his best to continue being friends without it being awkward for you.

“akaashi, why did you ask me to come here?”

“i wanted to tell you something.” keiji extended his hand towards you, waiting for you to grasp it. he loved when you held his hands, and you’d do it quite often. akaashi never let anyone hold or look at his hands for too long, and he had opened up about how he’s insecure about his hands, their shape and form. that time, you comforted him by planting a small kiss on each of his fingers, saying his hands were perfect the way they were. you intertwined your fingers with his and started walking.

you wondered what it was that he wanted to tell you, what was on his mind this exact moment. you sometimes wished to be able to read people’s minds, just so you could figure out what goes on in that pretty head of his. and maybe, for your own good, what he thinks about you. these emotions flooded your mind like a flood after a rainstorm, and akaashi noticed. he stopped in his tracks, covered your eyes and mumbled ‘were almost here’ as he stood behind you. you two walked for a while, akaashi mumbling a few words into your hair as he led you further. your mind started racing with a million thoughts an hour as you wondered where he had taken you.

“okay we’re here,” keiji announced, removing his hands from your eyes. you turned around to see him smiling softly at you, as he stood in front of the object he wished to show you. you tried to get a look at it, but akaashi forbid you from it. “remember when you showed me that flower, in our biology textbook?” you nodded your head, anticipating what the boy had planned.

“i did some research and i found out that the flower is right next to our main campus,” akaashi moved so you could finally see what he brought you here for. and then you saw it… the bright lilac flower staring back at you. a laugh mixed gasp left your lips as you walked closer to the delicate flower, your fingers carefully tracing the petals. “and i also found out that it was planted here on exactly your birthday. so i think i’d like to call it the y/n flower.” you giggled and turned to him with a smile painted on your face. as your arms embraced keiji in a warm hug, you mumbled a small ‘thank you’ against his warm skin.

—

a week had passed and akaashi wasn’t seen, to you at least. you saw him in the halls and tried to catch up to him, but he’d walk away without letting you even say hello. you’ve had enough. what did you even do wrong? you two just hung out later after the date, he gave you a book he really liked and said there was something special in it for you- wait. the book… you haven't opened it yet, and maybe the important thing was why he was ignoring you.

as soon as the class bell rang you ran out of the school building and jogged across your campus. thankfully, it was your last class of the day, so you didn't need to rush. except you did, you wanted to fix this, you wanted to find out what went wrong.

you attempted to unlock and open the door to your dorm, but the door seemed to give you a middle finger and decide to not unlock. fuck it’s the wrong key, you thought and clumsily fumbled with the multiple keys you had. as if the day hadn't been horrible already, you dropped the keys.

“fuck!” you exclaimed, feeling tears prick your eyes. you quickly grabbed -hopefully- the right key and unlocked the door. you had never gotten in your dormitory as fast as you did now. without taking any notice, you quickly speed-walked to your bookshelf.

The picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde. was the name of the book Akaashi Keiji gave you. it was one of your favourite books when you had read it in highschool, yet you haven't picked up a copy of it ever since. you flipped over to the page where a small blue sticky note marked. you opened it to find a highlighted quote, and another sticky note writing something underneath it.

“You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.” y/n, have i not been obvious enough? I have tried to show you that I love you. maybe my cheeks weren't a bright enough shade of crimson when you kissed each pad of my finger on both my hands, maybe i didn't use my body language enough. Bokuto says that for a genius I am truly stupid. and I cannot help but agree. i hope, that instead of study sessions, we could go on real study dates, as a couple. but i’ll ask you this later. I love you, l/n y/n. please tell me you do too.

that was it. that was enough to make you realise what you had done and why he was ignoring you. you hadn’t told him.

—

“hey, y/n.” spoke akaashi, seeing you the next day after your date. you smiled softly at him and greeted him with a hug.

“hi, keiji. are we going to study today?” you asked, tightening your grasp on the straps of your black backpack. you noticed how akaashi’s hands twitched, he was going to hug you, or maybe hold your hand, but he restrained himself.

“i.. uh.. i have to go, y/n. see you around.”

—

he had expected you to open the book as soon as you got home, and didn't think about the fact that you wanted to give all your time and attention to it. it didn't make sense. it didn't make sense how all this time you expected to be rejected by akaashi when you’d confess (which you thought about never doing), but you unknowingly rejected him.

once again, your body worked faster than your brain could register and you were right out the door, on your way to akaashi’s dorm.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” keiji asked, his head slightly tilted to the side, signifying that he was confused. he was wearing that gray university hoodie of his and some black sweatpants, and you swore you had never wanted to embrace someone in a hug as much as you did now.

without even saying anything, you embraced his lips in a passionate kiss. akaashi’s mind raced with multiple thoughts, but nonetheless his warm hands travelled to the groove of your waist. you two made out with the open door for about two minutes until either of you realised it was even open. akaashi thanked the gods that no one saw and that bokuto wasn't over at that time, because he would've made funny remarks, that neither you or akaashi would've found funny.

“i love you too, akaashi keiji. i’ve always loved you.” you smiled after you two caught your breath. “i read the highlighted page, and i’m sorry that it took me so long. we could've avoided the whole… ignoring that went on if i had opened it sooner and i- i love you, akaashi.”

“i know you do, y/n. i love you too.” akaashi smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “how about a study date at the library?”

© all work written by sakuric is not to be posted on any other writing app or website without notice. if it is found to be reposted without consent, rightful action will be taken.

[allsassnoclass]

hello helloooo can i ask 20, 23, 24, 44 and also i didn't see this question but (if you want) tell me something about your favourite fic of yours, posted or not! -taylor<3

@squishmichael hi taylor! thank you for stopping by, love to have you here

20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

“You know, the guy who choreographed this went on to direct the High School Musical movies.”

Ashton glances at him, face glowing white in the TV light.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not, I’m dead serious. Kenny Ortega, look him up."

i love kenny ortega. big fan of that man's work. saw the opportunity to name drop him in this wip and had to take it

23. Single or multi POV, and why? Single! it's just cleaner and easier for me to keep track of, plus that way I don't have the added pressure of making each voice feel different (which is less of an issue in 3rd person than it would be in 1st, but can still be an issue). I do have two ideas where multi POV would benefit the story! but i only really like multiple POV when there's a point to it, otherwise I prefer sticking with one POV (unless it's a bonus scene from the other character's perspective that I write afterwards, because those can be fun)

24. Poetry or prose, and why? Prose! I can write poetry, but I don't think I'm overly good at it, and it doesn't come easily to me the same way that prose does. I enjoy reading both, but overall prefer prose.

44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten. this wasn't a piece of feedback, but rather a little piece of advice I saw on tumblr. basically imagine your writing like a water faucet. if you haven't written in a long time there's going to be some gunk in there, and you have to turn on the tap and let the water flow for a while before it gets to the nice, clean water you like. when you restart writing after a long time away, it's not going to be perfect! but you need to get that gunky stuff out before you can get back in the groove and actually write well.

Bonus question: tell me something about your favourite fic of yours, posted or not! well, I've already talked about puzzle pieces extensively in many contexts lol but!!! a little fun fact about my current favorite wip is that it was inspired by something you said in response to an ask from monse once many many months ago, so do with that info what you will!

[unholyhelbig]

[A/N: I finally updated "Dead Ivy" after a good year. Here is Chapter one if you haven't checked it out yet!]

Beca could feel the soil beneath her fingertips. It was soft, freshly overturned, and in a way, comforting. She was careful not to let her knees touch the ground- not privy to the dark stains that would splay against the fabric. The tree stood tall above her, stretching its large oak branches towards the pluming blue sky. A nice summer breeze tussled her hair, and she was sure that if she breathed in, she would smell freshly cut grass and chlorine from the neighbor’s pool.

The treehouse had long since been torn down to make room for her mother’s garden. Something that stood at the end of the fenced in yard. For a while, she grew tomatoes and zucchini. Beca could still remember the first red bulb that poked its head from the dirt. They made a salad from store-bought spinach and divided up the little thing, no bigger than a golf ball. It was still the best tomato that Beca had ever had.

She sighed at the hand that squeezed her shoulder gently. Her father smelled of aftershave and bourbon. His tie wasn’t fastened all the way to his white button down, and he had strung his suit jacket over his arm. He held a sad look that was shielded by the sun as Beca squinted at him. She pulled herself to her feet, feeling the age of her aching bones as she stepped back from the large oak tree and stared up at the branches.

“Do you remember when I fell out of this tree and broke my arm?” She asked.

Her fathers’ eyes crinkled at the memory as he gave her a sad smile. She had needed him to run beside her when he first took the training wheels off her bike. She had needed him when she learned how to drive and took out the Johnson’s mailbox. But when she dropped from a higher spot in the oak tree and felt something audibly snap, it was her mother that came to the rescue.

She had been clipping up sheets to the clothesline, claiming that the summer air was always better for stuff like that. A beautiful woman that would beam endlessly and cradle Beca in her arms with her stormy eyes and eerie calm. Beca needed that right now. Needed it to get through the handshakes and the hugs. The baked goods and casseroles that people deemed necessary when something like this happened.

“I do.” He chuckled wearily, “I got a call at work that something had happened. You scared the hell out of me that day, kid.”

Beca snorted at the nickname. She and her father had gotten along significantly better since she moved out on her own- took up a place and a prominent career across the country in Los Angeles of all places. She had, of course, taken time off work to come back for the funeral. To pull into the sleepy little Georgia town with a giant oak tree that shook in the summer breeze. She squinted at the bark, at the carving so crudely made by a grooved pocket knife.

C + B FOREVER & EVER

The second half was etched in different handwriting, something more elegant and thought out. It was funny, really. When they were kids, it was easier to think about the future in terms of relationships. Of course, they would always be with one another- they wouldn’t fathom being apart. But then college. Careers. Plane rides. Marriage, kids, and divorces. All inevitable. All anything but forever.

“She still lives around here, you know? Owns a little café in the far side of town.”

“That so?”

He grunted and sniffed away any feeling that still leaked in his voice. No one would question them for standing out here- but they still felt obligated to go back inside the old farm style house with the wrap around porch and the honeysuckle bushes. Beca didn’t know how he could still live here. “Yeah. You should pay her a visit while you’re here. I bet she’d like that.”

Beca simply nodded and let the tips of her fingers trace of the words that had been weathered over time, but they were still there. They had stood the test of time, unlike her treehouse. Unlike the little plants of tomatoes and zucchini that had rotted away to decaying vines that stretched like deadened ivy up the side of the fence.

“Right. Well, we should probably go back inside. The quicker we talk to everyone, the quicker they can go home and mourn their memories.”

It was a grim thing to say, but it was the truth, so her father let the words die in the air before sliding on the suit jacket to cover up the sweat stains against his dress shirt. She let her hand fall and looped it around his arm like he was escorting her down the carpeted floor of a chapel on her wedding day. Instead of white, she dawned black, though. And so, did he.

She thought that drinking and sadness walked hand and hand. It was why the only two bars in town did so well on any given night, and if things were bad, any given day. The other place, the snake eye, had karaoke on Friday nights and Beca didn’t think she was well equipped to listen to TLC, so she chose The Red Sun instead.

There were repurposed Christmas lights strung against the bottom of the counter, hot to the touch. A low rock ballad cracked over the loudspeaker. She wasn’t sure if the jukebox that changed light settings every few beats actually had a purpose or if it just ate up quarters. Either way, Beca Mitchell was in her own world.

She tilted her head back and let the bourbon burn on the way down. A nice and subtle sting that washed the taste of stale crackers out of her mouth. It was the only thing in her stomach- despite the spread that was now packed with tin foil in the fridge. Her father was drinking too, she was sure, at home in his study. The house was too quiet for her, though.

Beca felt a twinge of guilt in her gut.

She had ignored the last call from her brother. She was in the middle of the meeting, and at the time, the buzzing of her phone sounded louder than anything else in the world. She flushed instantly and clicked the side of the device before staring back down at her notes and sunk further into her seat.

He had died the next day, she had forgotten to call him back. A car accident and a drunk driver. Which, she supposed, defeated the purpose of being here- in this stupid some-hazy bar with nothing but time on her hands. She considered switching her flight to something earlier. But then reconsidered as quickly as the thought entered her mind. Her father needed her, at least for now.

“Beca Mitchell?” The voice startled her, it broke through the garbled focus of the next song. She blinked a few times and turned her head to the side. Stacie Conrad. She looked older, wiser even, but maybe that was the glasses. The smile on her face aged her, but in the best way. Still impossibly attractive, and confident, it seems. “Is that really you?”

“As I live and breathe.”

She winced at her use of words, but Stacie didn’t seem to notice as she quickly wrapped her in an awkward hug, Beca still half-sitting on a bar stool. Still, she craved the embrace and hugged back naturally.

“God, how are you?” She pulled away, “That’s a stupid question… I mean, as well as you can be, I hope.”

Before Beca could answer she lifted her hand in the air and signaled the bartender, the woman busied herself with preparing Stacie’s usual and pouring another sour edge of bourbon into Beca’s glass. She wasn’t sure if she would drink it or not, but she appreciated the sentiment behind it. Stacie settled into the seat next to her.

“I’m doing fine,” She finally managed, earning a detrimental look. “As well as I can be.”

The bartender set two glasses in front of them and Beca wrinkled her nose at it before focusing her attention on Stacie, the way her own drink looked like radioactive fluid. It was always the fruity things that packed the most punch. Not the gritty glass that she would be nursing for the rest of their conversation.

“I’m sorry to hear about him, you know.” Stacie finally said after a beat of silence.

Beca simply nodded. She was numb to the situation at this point. Her whole body felt like a lead pipe. She and Jason didn’t get along too well. He traveled the world and she resented him for that. But they played nice during the holidays and smiled for family pictures. He got divorced young, married even younger. It still ached her whole entire being.

“You and most of the town,” Beca chuckled dryly, begging for a change of subject. “I haven’t seen you in what? Eleven years?”

“Twelve. God, we’re old.”

She was thankful that her high school friend could take a keenly dropped hint. The two of them encircled the same click during those years. It was better than giving in to the southern tenacity of it all. They would smoke behind the bleachers and drink if they were feeling lucky. They usually were.

Beca caught a glimpse at the wedding band that took over Stacie’s finger. It was simple, not overstated with large diamonds. A simple one that was surrounded by two smaller stones. She smiled “You’re married now?”

She took another gulp of her fruity drink and hummed in response, instinctively twirling it around her ring finger. She got a goofy grin on her face and twirled slightly to make eye contact with Beca. Sure, she had seen the social media posts. The cute announcements and the picturesque scenes.

“Happily, at that, we invited you to the wedding, you know?”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“S’alright,” Stacie said with a beaming smile “Rose loves the panini press.”

Beca scoffed and picked up her glass, chancing a sip of the molten liquid. It hissed as she swallowed, and she blinked away the residual prick of pain that collected behind her eyes. Stacie glanced behind her at the group of girls that she had come in with- doctors like her, she supposed. They all had that tired professional look that the woman beside her carried.

“Listen, uh, how long are you in town? I’d love a chance to catch up in a setting with better lighting.”

“A couple of weeks, at most. We have to settle his estate.” She grimaced at the technical term. “I’ll be around.”

“We’ll catch up, promise?”

She gave Beca a squeeze on her shoulder and a sympathetic smile, but she didn’t say it again and Beca was thankful for that. She watched as Stacie went to the four other colleges that were in her inner circle. They all asked questions and cast wary looks her way- she lifted the glass and gave a smile before turning back to the bartender. She was cleaning out a glass and eyeing her.

“Promise,” Beca mumbled, tipping her head back the rest of the way, finishing the glass of bourbon she hadn’t even ordered.

[its-toasted]

The very long answer to why I've been writing again lately

.

You know the NBA commentator Beau Estes? No? Word that makes sense. Well he's an A1 dude who has narrated the NBA top 10 nightly highlights for a very, very long time. Since or soon after I heard NBA 2K07 playing on the Best Buy PS3, and it said Dwaaayne Waaaade to applause, and I started watching Wiz games with pa, and caring about shoes, and wanting to go outside.

.

I swear every single week I think about something and I'm like goddamn I'm getting old and I hate it. Anyways the NBA top 10 roundup is what your average modern sports fan with short attention span loves to see. I say sports fan and not basketball fan because everyone who loves sports loves basketball. Or at least appreciates the finesse enough to peep the highlights sometimes. That's hyperbole but not much. I digress again.

.

What moonlight-meister Beau gets paid to do is simply sit his ass down and talk about what he sees, but really deliver it freestyle. The purpose is your entertainment. But it's different than generic commentating, which is what everyone else does. Beau whips up a storm of wordplay and rhythm and rhymes and freshly baked bars every night. He speaks the language of basketball so naturally, has a great time doing it, and developed such a loyal audience that he became the NBA Rhyme Guy. I stamp it's been over a decade and he still crushes.

.

Brace yourself, we shifting. That's pretty close to what I do as a marketing writer. A lot closer than the commonly associated assumptions. I mean I'm still writing cohesive professional narratives, but the difference is I take my time writing on pages. And the objective is not only to entertain, it's to offer you, the reader, a thing. I haven't always been proud of the things I've offered you, but my work situation changed a few months ago. Now I'm trying to give you damn good things. Our business model is built on providing such great value for free that people of all kinds of businesses choose to work with us. This is the rundown of what I do -- I write about dope things we've made or dope things others are doing to engage or teach or help you. It's also to make current events and educational resources and boring numbers make you smile. It's not bad work.

.

We shifting again. Before I'd gotten this job, I straight forgot that I was a good writer. It truly didn't feel that way for years because of the content I was hired to create. My first two gigs over two years had me pitch you wishy-washy things. Things that shined more on the surface than they should've suggested. My job was to sensationalize a bit and convince you to click or buy. AKA bag your money. And I came up as a journalist in school so my identity was a mess. It was tough to fade but it paid. A few months ago I was over five months deep into a job hunt. I find a media company that I've been reading from since mid-college and they have a witty-smooth brand voice and they want someone who finesses language. A fresh three-page google doc sample and a handful of interviews got me an offer. This company has great things and wants to share those great things to attract great people and I said yes.

.

Whether I'm writing an email to a million or a poem to a few, the creative process is so much the same. My day job these days is still creative writing, just with a different voice than I'm used to. One that I'm growing fond of. I didn't know this rant was gonna end up explaining why I mean it when I say I'm good these days. Why my head is finally at peace enough to make poetry again. Cause for quite some time it felt like I trapped myself and it was a long positive feedback loop of anxiety. And it made some people I love give up on me. And it made me kinda cold. Thank God for my brother man. And that's not blame that's just how you can't help but feel sometimes. These days I'm working myself back into a groove and feeling half-sunny again. I'm good.

.

It's not exactly that this job makes me happy. I have security, and it's a great fit, and I can maintain my own process, but work is still work no cap. It's that I'm starting to thrive again. Landing this job reminded me that I'm okay, in the best way at the right time, you know? Like the world is still for me and there are still places out here for me. And peace of mind is for me too. And good things are coming.

[lesbeet]

hey so im that anon who asked about writing like a day or two ago and i just wanted to say that you saying "please don't quit" really made me feel better like. even if I still haven't quite hit the writing groove im Getting There and i just wanted to thank you

i'm so glad!

honestly ime, most of the time, the more blatant confidence someone has in their writing abilities, the worse they probably are.

it's sad, and obviously there are exceptions, but the majority of good writers i know think they're much worse than they are, and the majority of bad writers i know never realize how bad their writing actually is

and i think it's because the best way to be a good writer is to be a good critic--not in the sense of criticism, but of scrutiny. good writers understand subtleties about language and about storytelling because they've figured them out, by studying the works that already exist, including their own.

even if it's hardly more than a vague gut feeling, a writer of any level who genuinely wants to improve can usually identify their own writing strengths and weaknesses. and the reason so many good writers have voices unique to them, distinct and signature, and/or styles of storytelling, is because those are the elements those writers paid attention to most while analyzing any other writing they'd seen before.

based on the amount of time you've been working at it, i'd have to guess that you have at least a cursory notion of what you'd like to improve. (if not shoot me an IM and we can chat about it!). if so, that tells me that at the very least you have the eye of a discerning reader, which is crucial to any sort of deliberate honing of the craft of writing.

from there, read! read your own stuff, taking note of what you think works and what you think doesn't. read anything and everything you can get your hands on. advertisements, weirdly enough are a wonderful source of verbal and linguistic data, as well as information on storytelling: they select each and every word, image, song, etc with the explicit purpose of selling you on something. you don't have to make it a formal thing, but refrain from skipping the commercials every so often and pay attention to what you're seeing and hearing. what did they want to make you feel, and which strategies did they use to accomplish that (if they accomplished it?) take a few seconds to think about an ad you see in a magazine, or even on a billboard. if you work at it, you'll find yourself with boundless, totally free information about what it takes to make someone buy a product, which is exactly the job of a writer: to sell your story. to make it real and believable. to make people care.

but also: movies and tv shows! personally i think i've learned a lot more about storytelling from film and tv than from reading, if only because it's a more passive medium which leaves your mind more room to wander, and because it's much easier to remember details about a 90-min film than a book it took you a week to read, yknow?

my point is that if you have even an inkling of what you want to look for, the world is bursting with information, with examples, with explicit analyses (which should never be taken absolute fact!). once you can identify and make distinctions between different strategies, you'll be able to start practicing them in your own writing. you'll find what you excel at and what you need to work on further, as well as what you personally like and dislike, as least as far as within your own style.

and from there it's just endless editing and tweaking and honing until you die dndjdkakzldksskdjdk

but yes, PLEASE DON'T STOP WRITING, whatever you do. it sounds like you have something things that you need to say, and you should give the world an opportunity to hear them!

this answer has waaaaay gotten away from me lmfao, but i hope that advice was helpful in some way.

[ineffablebffs]

1. A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley

Your ship may be coming in

You're weak but not giving in

To the cries and the wails of the valley below

And your ship may be coming in

You're weak, but not giving in

You'll fight it, you'll go out fighting all of them

(You'll be better

You'll be smarter and more grown up

And a better daughter or son)

2. Wake Up by Arcade Fire

Somebody filled up

My heart with nothing

Somebody told me not to cry

But now that I'm older

My heart's colder

I can see that it's a lie

3. Everything is Alright by The Glorious Sons

I'm the closest thing my mother had to a daughter

I used to be ashamed of that but now I'm kind of flattered

I learn that my weakness is a weapon anyway

So I haven't touched a pretty thing in forty days

4. The Mother We Share by CHVRCHES

Come in misery, where you can seem as old as your omens

And the mother we share

Will never keep your proud head from falling

The way is long, but you can make it easy on me

And the mother we share

Will never keep our cold heart from calling

5. BLOODMONEY by Poppy

I know what it feels like

To have my soul sucked out of my body

I finally know what it feels like

To be dead

Your soul can't be saved from the sins you've ignored

And the devil is well aware he is adored

Never forget the excess of a man

Because the grabbing hands always grab what they can

6. Video Game by Sufjan Stevens

I don’t wanna be the center of the universe

I don’t wanna be a part of that shame

In a way, I wanna be my own redeemer

I don’t wanna play your video game

I don’t care if everybody else is into it

I don’t care if it’s a popular refrain

I don’t wanna be a puppet in a theater

I don’t wanna play your video game

7. Rebellion (Lies) by Arcade Fire

People say that your dreams

Are the only things that save ya

Come on baby in our dreams,

We can live our misbehaviour

(Come on hide your lovers

Underneath the covers)

8. Reasons I Drink by Alanis Morissette

I have been working since I can remember, since I was single digits

Now, even though I've been busted

I don't know where to draw the line 'cause that groove has gotten so deep

And nothing can give reprieve like they do

Nothing can give a break for this soldier like they do

9. Black Sheep by Metric

Hello again

Friend of a friend, I knew you when

Our common goal was waiting for the world to end

Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend

You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick, the past again

I'll send you my love on a wire

Lift you up, every time

Everyone, ooh

Pulls away, ooh

From you

10. Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy

We've gone way too fast for way too long

And we were never supposed to make it half this far

And I lived so much life, lived so much life

I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice

(Oops I did it again

I forgot what I was losing my mind about)

11. Red Heart by Hey Rosetta!

Were you born a closed book,

Full of secret lines? (and bound so tight)

Or did you learn to lock it,

As not to break your spine? (oh! you were bound so tight)

Cause you shut up

And you're all shut inside

12. Gay is Not A Synonym For Shitty by Fall Out Boy

I've loved everything about you that hurt

So let me see your moves, let me see your moves

Lips pressed close to mine

True blue

But the prince of any failing empire knows that

Everybody wants, everybody wants

To drive on through the night if it's a

Drive back home

13. Combat Baby by Metric

I want to be wrong but

No one here wants to fight me like you do

Combat baby come back baby

Fight off the lethargy

Don't go quietly

Combat baby

Said you would never give up easy

Combat baby come back

14. It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking it Must be Love by Fall Out Boy

All the ways you make my stomach turn

And all the long drives

With my friends blur

And I wish I kept them inside my mind

I hide behind these words

(But I'm coming out)

15. Ivy by Frank Ocean

I thought that I was dreamin' when you said you loved me

The start of nothin', I had no chance to prepare

I couldn't see you comin'

The start of nothin', ooh, I could hate you now

It's quite alright to hate me now

But we both know that deep down

The feeling still deep down is good

16. Blue Eyes by Mika

Your heart is broken

To your surprise

You're sick of crying

For blue eyes

(Come, sorrow is so peculiar

Comes in a day, then it'll never leave you)

17. The Fault in Our Stars by Troye Sivan

The weight

Of a simple human emotion

Weighs me down

More than the tank ever did

The pain

It's determined and demanding

To ache, but I'm OK

(You lost

A part of your existence

In the war against yourself)

18. Happy Ending by Mika

Wake up in the morning, stumble on my life

Can't get no love without sacrifice

If anything should happen, I'd guess I wish you well

Mm, a little bit of heaven, but a little bit of hell

(This is the way you left me

I'm not pretending

No hope, no love, no glory

No happy ending)

19. In Our Bedroom After the War by Stars

Wake up, say good morning to

That sleepy person lying next to you

If there's no one there, then there's no one there

But at least the war is over

20. Love Love Love by The Mountain Goats

Some things you'll do for money and some you'll do for fun

But the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one

Love love is going to lead you by the hand

Into a white and soundless place

Now we see things as in a mirror dimly

Then we shall see each other face to face

~BONUS TRASH TRACKS~

21. The Archers Bows Have Broken by Brand New

What did you learn tonight?

You're shouting so loud, you barely joyous, broken thing

You're a voice that never sings, is what I say

You are freezing over hell

You are bringing on the end, you do so well

You can only blame yourself, it's what I say

22. All-American Boy by Steve Grand

Ripped jeans, only drinks whiskey

I find him by the fire while his girl was getting frisky, oh...

I say we go this road tonight

He smiles, his arm's around her

But his eyes are holdin' me, just a captive to his wonder, oh...

I say we go this road tonight