#i wrote this on edibles

[humanityinahandbag]

Eddie will shred a guitar solo and sing anti establishment lyrics to a crowd of headbanging metal fans and then immediately go to twirling his hair and kicking his little feetsies while lying on the couch because Steve Called. He'll get a crowd screaming songs back at them and then find his Steve backstage and ask for Uppies because all that metal made him too tired to walk and he wants to be held like a Disney princess because he did his very best job doing the metal, Steve, and you're just so big and strong and handsome and I've got weak ankles and-

Anyway.

These are the two wolves that live inside Eddie Munson and no one can convince me otherwise.

At some point I'll need to write this into a story but if anyone else wants to use it as well, knock yourselves out. More the merrier etc etc

Just please. All I ask. Stay true to my vision of absolute Soggy Kitten Coded Eddie who thinks he's slick and mysterious and frightening but is nothing short of a gooey cookie with bangs.

That is all.

[frownyalfred]

"I'm gonna fuck your mom" "I'm going to get my adoptive billionaire dad to sleep with both of your parents and they're both going to fall in love with him and write you out of their will, fuckhead."

(Schoolyard threat from an unknown Wayne child, provided to the Gazette in March 2013. Bruce Wayne, responding via email, denied all allegations of an improper relationship and declared it "entirely spontaneous and consensual."

Mr. and Mrs. [redacted] could not be reached for comment, but court records indicate that Mr. [redacted] began divorce proceedings in April of 2013.)

[b1mbodoll]

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: daddy kink + creampies + cervix fucking + praise

💌: this edible is hitting and all i can think ab sunghoon makin love to u 😵‍💫 he fucks you in missionary cus he loves watching your pretty face when you cum n prasies u so much anyway enjoy

“my pretty girl, don’t hide from me. let daddy see your face, princess”

sunghoon presses his forehead to yours, his hands pinning your own to the bed ensuring you wont cover your flushed face.

his cock reaches the deepest parts of you like this, your legs wrapped around his hips as he keeps a slow pace, grinding his pelvis into yours when his length is buried to the hilt, making you clench around him and push your chest into his as your back arches.

“love you so much, angel. you’re mine.” your head is fuzzy, tears slipping down your cheeks at his sweet words. “‘m yours baby, all yours. ‘m so in love with you, — fuck —” he’s cut off by a grunt before continuing, “whose pussy is this, baby?”

a choked out sob is ripped from you when he bucks his hips unexpectedly and taps your cheek with his hand, trying to direct your attention to him. “‘s yours hoonie! promise!”

he presses light pecks to your face before meeting your lips in a deep kiss, keeping your lips locked until the lack of oxygen makes you break away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

sunghoon can tell when you’re close, the way you grab stupidly as his shoulders in an attempt to hold him even closer and how your cunt squeezes him tight are telltale signs. “don’t cum yet, princess.” he orders, “wanna cum with you, ‘m so close.”

he thrusts inside one last time, his cock pressing right up against your cervix making you gush around him as he cums in thick spurts.

“did so good for me, baby, always such a good girl for daddy” he praises, cupping your cheek and kissing along your jaw.

[ozymandiasdirge]

big boss is so lucky his harem of exes are too dickmatized by his mediocre yet canonically radioactive game to unionize against him and effectively utilize their blonde #girlpower to beat him to death with hammers i can tell you that

[archangeldyke-all]

Hello Angel!!!

Perhaps Cowboy Sev breaking older Vi and Jinx out of jail. After so many years Sev would be so rusty that she needs reader to help too. Go wild with the shenanigans they get up too. Could bring back Silco and the boys to help legally maybe. Hilarious if somehow Vi got in trouble trying to impress Caitlyn and somehow managed to get Jinx involved. Also funny if Sev and reader meet Caitlyn as Vi’a girlfriend during this break out HAHHAHA

Pls I’m obsessed with cowboy Sevika HELP ME

Thank youuuuu

this is SOOOOOO cute such a good idea i'm crying.

men and minors dni

ten years into marriage, fifteen years into your relationship, eight years with the girls, five with them legally yours, and sevika finally retires.

there was no need for her to work at the ranch in the first place. the amount of loot she'd stolen and stored in your inn (both in your room hidden beneath the floorboards and in the rafters, and buried beneath your side garden) was enough to take care of you for ten lifetimes to come. but, sevika was used to spending her day on shimmer's back, and she needed something to do with her free time once she gave up her life of crime.

but now, things have changed. sevika's ready to settle down and spend her days in the inn with you. the girls are growing up, vi being sixteen and powder being twelve-- they'll be living their own lives soon, and sevika wants to be around to keep you company as you transition into empty nesters.

shimmer died last winter. the four of you spent her last days cuddled up beside her in the stable, feeding her sugar cubes by the handful, saying your final goodbyes to sev's trusty mare. she rests behind the side garden now, marked by a big stone vi and jinx engraved.

old man ernie died too, leaving his ranch to his son. when he took over, he offered to let sev keep her job, but she declined. she was ready to retire.

she's been adjusting to retired life really well.

she loves working behind the bar in the evening, chatting with locals who stop in for a drink and swapping stories with some of your shadier guests in the in.

she's gotten really into reading-- especially smutty paperback romances.

when she gets restless cooped up in the inn, you send her out to ride the new foal-- a sweet young horse the girls decided to name teddybear.

it's been great having sev around all the time. especially for your sex lives.

speaking of your sex lives, you and sevika have been having a particularly fun week. the girls took teddybear out on a trip to a town two days ride south. they're meeting up with mylo and claggor there to catch the traveling circus. and it's summer time, which is always your slow season, and as of two days ago-- you've got no guests. you and sevika have been having a fucking blast, fucking on any and every flat surface you can find. your legs have been like jelly all week long.

it's been paradise.

"what're you smilin' at?" sevika mumbles from her side of the bed. you grin, turning on your side to stare at your sleepy wife. it's the crack of dawn, not even the rooster is awake yet. just you and the crickets, singing through the open windows.

"you're awake." you say. sevika smiles.

"i am indeed. c'mon, what's got you smilin' all pretty, darlin'?" she asks again, yawning to punctuate her question.

you scooch forward to kiss her nose, and sevika grins, her eyes scrunching closed.

"what i've been smilin' at for the past fifteen years, baby." you say. sevika chuckles.

"havin' sweet dreams about me?"

"more like flashbacks to last night." you say, waggling youreyebrows salaciously. sevika laughs.

"mmm, knew we'd break the bedframe one'a these days." sevika says with a proud little smile. you giggle and sit up on your elbows to look over at the broken bedframe stacked against the wall beside where the two of you sleep-- on the mattress on the floor.

"shit, sev that was oak, can't believe you fucked me through oak." you laugh. sevika nods cockily.

"damn right i did." she says. you giggle and fall back down to bed, snuggling against her chest. "how're you feeling?" she asks.

you snort. "well, i don't think i'm gonna be able to walk straight for a few days, and i woke up giggling, so... i'm better than i've been since our honeymoon." you say.

sevika grins, her sweet little gap makes your heart melt, and she smacks your ass.

"fuck, i love you." she sighs. you giggle and kiss her neck.

"love you too."

you guys drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

an hour later, the rooster crows, and you both wake up smiling again.

"morning." sevika mumbles. you kiss her lips.

"morning."

"i'll fetch some fresh water if you start breakfast?" sevika offers.

"will you let the chickens out?" you ask. sevika nods.

"duh." she says. you grin.

"deal."

you guys move slowly, lazily rubbing your eyes and yawning as you wash your faces and brush your teeth, stretching and kissing between each article of clothing you pull over your naked bodies, luxuriating in the slow morning all to yourselves.

sevika laughs at the limp in your step, and you pinch the bruises you left on her shoulders in revenge.

you fry up some eggs and hashbowns, watching through the window over the stove as sevika pumps fresh water from the well, watering your garden, the chickens, and finally lugging two buckets inside for the two of you to share.

you guys eat breakfast on the front porch, cuddled together on the porch swing violet 'found' for the two of you a few years ago. (you're pretty sure she stole it off sheriff marcus' front porch, but violet hasn't admitted it yet, and the sheriff's still too scared of you and sev to say anything.)

"how do you think the girls're doin'?" you ask as you sip your coffee. sevika snorts.

"i knew you were gonna ask that." she teases. you roll you eyes and sevika leans over to press a kiss to your temple. "they're fine. you know they're fine." she says. you huff.

"i know, i just miss 'em." you say. sevika laughs.

"i do, too, darlin'." she says.

sevika leans in to kiss you, and you sigh against her, quickly melting against her lips. she licks against your lips and you hum, opening your mouth for her to slide her tongue into your mouth--

"ahem!" a voice calls.

you and sevika pull apart, necks snapping to the stairs in front of you where a teenage girl stands, blushing and rubbing the back of her neck.

sevika clears her throat in embarrassment. you giggle.

"how can we help you, honey?" you ask the girl. her eyes dart up to you, quickly shooting between you and sevika, back to you, and then sevika again.

"uh..." she chokes out. she squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, before taking a deep breath. "s-sorry to inturrupt ma'am, i just-- d-do you happen to know a mylo and claggor? or violet and jinx, percha-"

"oh fuck." sevika groans. the girl squeaks at the curse, and you chuckle. "what did those shits get themselves into now?" she asks.

she blinks. "uhm. jail, miss." she says.

you blink.

sevika's jaw drops.

the girl clears her throat. "a-about thirty miles south of here in a small town call--"

"what did they do?" sevika groans. "i trained them for every scenario, how the fuck did they get caught?!" she whines.

you blink again, spots in your vision popping up.

"uh... they shot the sheriff?" she says.

you gasp.

sevika laughs.

"shit." she says, somewhat impressed. "on purpose?" she asks, her eyebrow raising.

you feel lightheaded.

"n-no ma'am. accident. he's still alive-- but he's sentenced them to hang at the end of the week..."

that's the last thing you hear before you black out.

you wake up in bed, sevika nervously hovering over you, pressing a wet cloth to your forehead.

"wha--"

"you passed out."

"jinx and vi--" you snap up in bed, scrambling to your feet. sevika's beside you in an instant, steadying you as you're knees threaten to give out beneath you.

"it's oka--"

"sevika don't you dare say 'it's okay' to me right now!" you snap. she shuts her mouth.

footsteps start up the steps, and you look over your shoulder, where the teenager from before appears, a fresh bucket of water in her hands.

she freezes at the top of the steps, taking in the tense environment she walked in, then turning red as a tomato when she tries to avert her eyes from you and sevika, and makes direct eyecontact with the broken bedframe behind the two of you.

you would laugh at the poor, flustered girl. now though, she just reminds you a bit of the first time violet saw you and sev kiss, and that just makes you want to vomit.

"caitlyn, here," sevika starts in an irritatingly annoying voice, "was hanging out with the kids at the circus, right cait?" sevika asks. caitlyn nods.

"i live in town." she explains.

"and when they got arrested, cait was the only one who got away. violet told her to come get us, right cait?" sevika asks again. caitlyn clears her throat.

"i rode through the night. i also sent a telegraph to a mr. silco?" she says. you blink.

"right. and we're all gonna meet in town, and we're gonna figure something out, okay baby?" she asks. you gulp.

"sevika--"

"honey, i'm not gonna let anyone put a damn finger on our kids." she says firmly. you look away from the teenager to take in the steely sincerity of your wife's eyes, and you gulp. she gently reaches up to cup your face. "c'mon, have a little faith in me, darlin'" she coos, melting into a soft smile. you sigh shakily. "i'm the fuckin' weary woman of the west-- what's a little jailbreak, huh?"

you take a deep breath and lean forward to press your forehead against hers.

"we're gonna need a few horses." you say. sevika grins.

"i'm way ahead of you." she says.

grayson was happy to lend you two horses and buggies, almost crying at the thought of the girls in trouble. she promised to come over every day to care for your chickens and garden while you were away, and you thanked her profusely before riding the animals home faster than you've ever ridden-- anxious to get back.

when you arrive, it's to caitlyn and sevika waist deep in the dirt behind your garden, a few yards away from where shimmer lays. for the first time since caitlyn's arrived, you laugh.

sevika's pulls a crate out of the ground prying it open with a crowbar. as she opens the crate, she reveals dozens of sticks of dynamite, and she grins up at you with a proud smile. you giggle, and roll your eyes. caitlyn shoots out of the hole, terrified by the explosives.

"i'm gonna pack up some food for the trip." you nod to your house. "come help me kid." you say. the girl nods eagerly, sprinting away from the dynamite. sevika laughs.

you guys pack quickly, visiting the cellar for cans of food, gathering the essentials for travel, a couple blankets and quilts, a pack of matches, canteens and jugs of water. while you're folding some clothes, both for you and sevika as well as jinx and powder, you break down into tears.

caitlyn flounders around you for a few seconds, and you try desperately to collect yourself, but you can't quite manage.

the girl gently, awkwardly pats your shoulder.

you turn around and hug her impossibly close to your chest. she squeaks.

"fuck. shit." you cry. you take a few deep breaths, squeezing the girl in your arms, before letting her go. "sorry." you say, dropping your hands at your sides. "thank you." you sob. "for coming to get us."

caitlyn blinks, then wraps her arms around you, pulling you toward her this time. you giggle through your laughs against her shoulder and she gently rubs your back.

"violet told me you'd freak out." she says... "you remind me of my mom."

"oh, fuck, do your parents know where you are?" you gasp, pulling away. caitlyn laughs.

"yes." she says. you raise an eyebrow at her and she sighs. "okay, no. but they think i'm safe, at the circus, they won't be looking for me for a while." she swears.

"you stupid fucking kids." you groan.

you leave town at noon, and ride until midnight. the trip is solemn, nobody tries to talk much.

sevika's got this look in her eye, something you haven't seen in a long time. she's up to something-- something more than her usual mischievous pranks and jokes. the gears in her head are grinding, you can practically see her run scenarios and outcomes back and forth through her mind's eye.

it's a little scary-- you forgot how focused and intense she gets when she's plotting something. it's mostly hot though.

but you can't really say that-- not with caitlyn lurking. still, sevika catches your eye a couple of times and smirks, like she knows just how hot she looks as she rides beside you.

caitlyn's a good navigator-- apparently she's a junior guide up and down the river, so she knows the route to town like the back of her hand. she gets you around mountains, avoids most hills, and knows the best spots to stop for when the horses need to rest. sevika's impressed. the two of them chat over the campfire about the surrounding areas, comparing notes and shortcuts they've learned over in their travels. it's so cute it breaks your heart.

it's a dry, warm night, so you sleep beneath the stars.

you don't sleep.

sevika doesn't sleep.

you just stare at the sky while caitlyn and the horses rest.

at one point, sevika reaches over and grabs your hand. "it's gonna be fine." she says. tears well up in your eyes.

"i love you so much." you say. sevika squeezes your hand so hard it's painful, and she replies shakily.

"i love you too darlin'."

it's silent long enough for you to think sevika's fallen asleep, but then she speaks again. "betcha five bucks caitlyn's vi's girlfriend."

you burst into laughter, smacking your hand over your mouth as you laugh. caitlyn stirs beside you, and you can feel sevika's silent, mischievous laughter beside you. you nudge her with your elbow.

when you catch your breath, and caitlyn's snoring returns, you whisper to your wife. "you have way too much faith in your daughter."

she snorts.

you get to town by noon, and sevika sets you and caitlyn up in a the saloon that was the address caitlyn had telegraphed to vander and silco. she takes off to scope out the police station.

it's a pretty gritty place, and you look around it with a raised eyebrow, then look down at caitlyn. she's sitting with perfect posture, dusting off her tailored riding coat.

"you hang out in this saloon?" you ask. she blinks up at you and then sighs.

"well, no... but it's where all the shootouts in town happen!" she says. "it felt... good for planning a crime?" she tries. you laugh.

"sevika's gonna love this." you say. she grins. "what do your parents do?" you ask. caitlyn gulps.

"uh... oil?" she says.

you burst out into laughter.

"shit you're an heiress?" you ask. she nods. you shake your head. "no way vi's bagged you yet." you mumble. caitlyn blushes bright red and clears her throat.

sevika comes back before sunset, sitting beside you at the table and scrawling away in her notebook little sketches of the prison, mumbling to herself, occasionally looking up to ask caitlyn questions.

surprisingly, cait seemed to know a lot.

"do you know which cell they're in?"

"the one on the far end here." caitlyn says, circling a part of sevika's diagram.

"and who else is being held right now?"

"nobody. the sheriff's been itching for some action."

"how do you know all of this?" you ask. caitlyn blushes.

"it's good to stay up to date on local going ons." she says. you chuckle.

she's a dork, you think fondly. she's perfect for violet.

sevika returns to her drawings and you decide it's time to interrogate your daughter's possible future girlfriend.

"how exactly did the kids shoot the sheriff?" you ask. caitlyn blushes bright red, and you raise your eyebrow.

"uh. well..."

sevika looks up from her notebook, intrigued.

caitlyn gulps, then looks away. "it might've been me." she whispers.

your eyes widen.

"what?" sevika asks.

caitlyn blinks, then speaks so fast it's almost impossible to make out. "violet was showing off all the cool things she could do, and i had packed my gun to bring to the circus because they've got contests for clay duck shooting and you can win twenty bucks if you make it to the tournement and i'm a really good shot--" she sucks in a breath, tears bubbling up in her eyes "so i wanted to show off my shooting skills and vi told me to shoot the big roasted hog in the food tent and i did right through the eyes! but i didn't see the sheriff on the other side of the pig getting himself a serving, so the bullet went straight through his shoulder." she finishes, gasping for another breath.

"how did--"

"and before i could even do anything violet was already taking the gun from my hands and telling me to run and i'm so sorry--" she starts to sob.

"shit, relax, kid, it's okay." sevika says, reaching out to pat caitlyn's back. you smile. "it's fine, we're not mad." sevika says. caitlyn gasps, her eyes shooting up between you and sevika.

"you're not?" she asks. you shake your head no. "o-oh." she whispers, wiping her eyes. you ruffle her hair.

silco and vander arrive quickly after. they took the train, and they clearly left the moment they got the message-- wearing day old wrinkled clothes, no luggage, just pistols tucked in every pocket on their bodies.

silco's greeting is a gaurentee that he's going to kill the kids before the sheriff can, and vander's apologetic assurances that his husband is only joking. silco's appearance seems to ease something in sevika, and the two of them quickly fall into a hushed conversation as sevika discusses her plan with silco. caitlyn's right beside them, a little furrow in her brow as she absorbs their hushed discussions.

vander, cordial as ever, gives you a hug and presses a solid kiss to your scalp.

"how're you holding up?" he asks.

"better now that you're here." you respond. he laughs.

"can i be honest?" he mumbles. you nod. "silco's not gonna get the chance to kill the kids, i'll have already fucking done it." he whispers. you laugh. "we're not young and spry like you and sev-- we both nearly had heart attacks when we got your message." he groans. you rub his shoulder as you laugh.

"you wanna hear somethin' that'll make you laugh?" you ask. he nods.

"violet's got a crush on the girl here." you say. vander raises his eyebrow, looking over at caitlyn, who's absorbed by the diagram of the prison, pointing and mumbling to an interested and engaged silco and sevika. "an oil heiress." you say. vander chuckles.

"huh. well are the feelings mutual?" he asks. you laugh.

"they better be. violet got all our fuckin' kids arrested for her ass." you whisper. vander groans and rolls his eyes, grabbing his chest.

"oh, don't tell me these things." he begs. you laugh.

"you're lucky you don't have girls." you say.

you wait until midnight to start your plan.

you split up into three groups.

silco and vander are the horsemen, both of grayson's and cait's, plus teddybear, who they found outside the jail, wrangled up and tied to the two carts-- ready to get out of town fast once you break the kids out.

sevika's on explosives, obviously.

you and caitlyn have to find a way to communicate with the kids.

you're helping wrap a bandanna around the lower half of caitlyn's face, tugging an old hat low on her face to disguise her as best as possible. she grunts and squirms.

"quit movin'. you're a fuckin heiress, everyone knows your face. you can't be seen breakin' kids outta prison." you say. she sighs.

"fine." she grunts as you wrap a scarf over her neck.

"okay." you whisper, satisfied now that she's bundled enough to be indistinguishable. "show me this window."

caitlyn guides you around the back of the jail building, and quietly points up to a cell window about fifteen feet off the ground, iron barred.

"take the beef jerkey." you say, shoving the paper package in her hand. she pockets it, and then you crouch. "stand on my shoulders." you say. she nods, clambering on top of you.

once she's steady, you groan as you stand to your full height. with caitlyn on your shoulders, she can peek through the window.

the window, apparently, sits above the sheriff's desk-- likely where he's in a whiskey induced coma now-- sleeping away the pain of his shoulder. oppisite his desk, are the iron bars holding your children.

the sheriff's got a dog, hence the beef jerkey.

caitlyn whistles into the window. you cringe.

the sheriff snores, and the dog whines. you can make out the plop of a piece of jerkey, and then caitlyn's whispered, "hi doggie!"

you bite back your smile, and almost collapse when you hear jinx's voice.

"oh for fuck's sake-- violet!" she whispers."your stupid fucking girlfriend's here!"

you grin, tears welling in your eyes at the sound of your kid.

"caitlyn!" violet exclaims. you take a shaky breath.

"we're blowing the back wall down." caitlyn whispers. "you need to shelter on this end."

there's some shuffling as the kids wake up and run over to the oppisite wall, and you grin at the pitter patter.

the sheriff gasps, and you freeze. caitlyn bites squeaks.

and then he's back to snoring. you sigh shakily and squeeze caitlyn's ankles.

"stay there. we'll see you on the other side." she whispers, then she jumps down from your shoulders.

the two of you take off for the oppisite side of the building where sevika's waiting for the two of you.

she grabs your hand as she lights the line to the dynamite. you hold your breath. the line sizzles, sizzles, sizzles, quickly reaching the sticks at the base of the wall, until it... fizzles out.

sevika holds her breath. you hold your breath. caitlyn gasps, "oh fuck-- what do we do no--"

she's cut off by a BOOM!

the ground shakes, dust goes flying, and the wall comes tumbling down.

as the dust clears, a small fire illuminating the inside of the cell, you grin as the kids start hooting and hollaring in amazement.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!" jinx and claggor shout at the same time as they all come sprinting out of the cell.

sevika snorts, then smacks them both upside the head.

"fuckin' stealth mission, assholes!" she whisper-scolds. mylo cackles.

"sorry sevika, but the stealth went out the window with that wall!" he laughs. sevika snorts and wraps all three of them up in her strong arms.

beside you, violet gasps, tears streaming down her eyes as she reaches up to pull caitlyn's bandana away.

"you came back." she whispers dramatically. you roll your eyes at the pure corniness, and then melt at the sweet sight of caitlyn darting forward and pressing her lips against your daughter's.

it's clumsy and quick, and they're both pull away bright red and gasping. you quickly look away when violet's eyes dart toward you, pretending like you weren't looking.

it doesn't seem to matter though, because next thing you know you have an armful of violet, sobbing into your shoulder. you squeeze her tight against your chest, and press a kiss against her head.

"you're in so much fucking trouble." you whisper against her hair. she giggles between her sobs.

"i knew you'd come." she whispers. you laugh.

"duh, dumbass. we need someone to take care of the chickens every day." you say. she cackles.

a gunshot rings out, and you all jump, turning around to face the now- open cell.

the sheriff stand sin the debris, a shard of wood speared through his unshot arm, his gun held weakly in his hand at his waist.

you push violet and caitlyn away to run grabbing their hands as you sprint down the street. beside you, sevika's got mylo under her arm, and calggor's got jinx on his back as they sprint, screaming and laughing down main street.

as the sheriff chases after you, unloading his gun at you, a bullet grazes violet's arm. she gasps in pain, and you gasp in horror, and before you know what's happening you're spinning on your heel and stopping dead in your tracks, reaching for the pistol you'd tucked into your waistband this morning.

you take a deep breath, and close one eye. lining your barrel up with the sheriff's bald, sweaty face.

he gets closer. he gets closer. sevika notices you're missing behind you, screaming your name, and the sheriff's right in front of you.

you shoot, and he crumbles to the ground.

it's quiet, and then your ears start ringing, and then, as the music fades, the sound of jinx's celebratory hoots fill your ears. you grin and turn back around, jogging to catch up to your family where everyone besides jinx (whose dancing in celebration at your shot) is frozen in place and gawking at you.

you smack sevika's ass as you pass her, grabbing jinx's wrist as you continue down main street, toward where silco and vander were waiting.

"c'mon y'all, someone's gonna check in on all this commotion soon!" you call over your shoulder.

shocked laughs fill the dusty main street as you and your family flee.

the ride back to your inn is mostly spent in long lectures, hilarious re-tellings of the kids' experience in jail, and tears and kisses being pressed to cringing children's heads.

but when you get back home to your inn, on your turf, all the anxiety and stress from the journey wear off, and you can finally relax.

you set up vander and silco and the boys in three rooms. violet eagerly volunteers to host caitlyn in her room, which makes you all laugh, (jinx groans in disgust) and you allow it.

and then, after scrubbing down with a washcloth, you fall crawl into the mattress on the floor beside sevika.

she's been snoring since you got back. she woke up for dinner, then fell back asleep after. but the second your weight hits the bed, she's blinking open, a smile on her face. you snort at her.

"what's that look for?" you ask.

"y'know that was the hottest thing i've ever fuckin' seen?" she whispers. you laugh.

"oh yeah?" you ask. she nods.

"didn't think you had it in you." she says, smirking. you just shrug and wink at her.

"you woulda done it anyways, i saw that look in your eye." you say. she grins and nods.

"yeah, but i didn't even have to try. my fuckin' outlaw wife killed the sheriff for me." she says, a blush working up her cheeks. you grin.

"now you know how it feels." you say. she laughs and you dart forward to kiss her forehead.

"i love you." she whispers. "i'm gonna fuck you through the floor tomorrow morning." she mumbles as she drifts off to sleep. you laugh.

"not happenin' babe." you say, kissing her forehead. "the kids are underneath us."

sevika groans. "those stupid fuckers."

you laugh and kiss her again. "i love you, sev."

"you owe me five bucks." she says.

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[teeth-farie]

Crawls from the depths to share this

[pinehutch]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for tagging me!

I should be honest: I am not much of a fic writer. This isn't self-effacing; I've been reading fic since the early aughts but only have 10 works on ao3. One of them is a poem. One of them is a few hundred words of something I've never finished.

That said, fic is important to me for a lot of reasons, but one is that in 2016 I started following a tumblr for a Dragon Age fic exchange, and in 2017 I wrote the first fiction I'd written in almost 20 years. I had been struggling to write poetry for about 10 years before that, too, and fic writing was part of my path back to writing at all.

This isn't to say that I think fanfic is valueless unless it results in 'original' writing; every story happens in context, and we all know how the lines between fanwork and original work blur, both in fan spaces and in commercial ones. But my particular, personal fondness for fic is because it gave me a path back to the first best thing of my life, which was language, and what we do with it.

With that said, my personal top five (links in titles):

Fundamental Forces (or, Root Causes)

Literally my first fic. This was when I remembered that writing can be fun. It's Dragon Age fic, femHawke/Varric. It's also written with a focus on Hawke's POV, a thing I think I pulled off quite well and have never attempted again. It's very silly. It features a 40-year-old and a 35-year-old being profoundly bad at emotional honesty. I riff on turnips for a while. It has a happy ending, which should surprise no one.

She breathed in through her nose and her eyes fluttered shut. “Kiss me, you idiot. Before they think I’m horrified.” Their first kiss. Quick and mostly chaste and part of a joke. She thought it was fitting.

Chapter Last

This is also T-rated Hawke/Varric, written for the same exchange, a year later. It's about near-misses, and trying again, and not being able to pick up where you left off, and it's stumbling back onto the path later, unexpectedly, and after having found another way. It is about stories, and why we do them.

It's fic of the games, of course, but in a way it's also fic-of-fic: there's a novella that's both a tie-in novel and a diegetic book in the Dragon Age setting, and it was printed irl the summer before I wrote this fic.

What I'm proud of, with this story, is character voice. Whenever I share any Varric-voice writing, even years later, people always say very generous things. Varric's also a writer, canonically, and I had fun mimicking 'his' style in passages of this, and trying to keep in mind how his writing and his inner narration would align and diverge. (Lots of Dragon Age fans are understandably thirsty about Varric; I think I've always found him relatable, in many ways, and it didn't occur to me to thirst. But I love him.)

I don't love the structure; I chaptered this, and way more than I needed to. I'd love to rewrite it, someday, but I also think it's good for me to sit with the awareness of its imperfections and the knowledge that people have loved it anyway.

Afterimage (there are two colours)

The Magnus Archives fic, E-rated. Basira/Daisy. This was meant to be a single installment in a series - I think I have a 20,000 word 'outline' in my gdocs, still, but I'm unlikely to ever finish it. The point of this story is self-indulgent, purple-prose, dreamy smut. Wanting the thing and having it, but not keeping it.

This was baby's first E-rated fic ever written. I have no explanation for this, either.

Transformative Work

Written for the 2022 OFMD Big Bang with @mia-ugly. Mostly Frenchie/Jim, a bit Jim/Oluwande, a bit Frenchie/Oluwande, a light sprinkling of polycule potential.

Transformative Work is my favourite thing I've posted to ao3 for three reasons.

It's 40k! I never finish longer works, so 40k is a big deal to me.

I think it's actually brilliant. Clever as hell, at minimum. But mostly brilliant.

It's collaborative!

Writing has always been a solitary thing for me; one of the things I love about Mia is how we can get on a wavelength about a story. (This is mostly a them trick: they're an excellent collaborator and instigator, in general.) I wasn't at my best when we were writing this, dealing with undiagnosed health issues and workplace burnout and an accumulation of grief, but it was beautiful and joyful work, in the end.

Also, I think it is almost exactly what we wanted it to be, and that is such a high.

Number 5 is a bit of a cop-out but still:

Remember when I said "we all know how the lines between fanwork and original work blur"? This is a poem I started writing when Succession 4.3, "Connor's Wedding" aired. I was in a worst spot than I had been the previous year, health-wise, grief-wise.

The title of this poem, "My Father's Dead and I Feel Old," comes out of Connor Roy's mouth in the episode. I had to pause the episode and just get pummeled by that perfect, simple line of iambs. I was a wreck, just generally. Yeah, man, my father is dead and I do feel old! That sort of thing. (The aforementioned health issue? Still not identified or addressed when this aired in spring 2023, btw. My brain was not braining well.)

But there were words for it. I was off work on medical leave at the time. I had just made the transition from crying like it was a full-time job to sleeping like it was a full-time job. The sleep wasn't helping. The crying hadn't helped, either. It wasn't something people could help. But words, and what we do with them - that helped.

Anyway, I'm actually quite proud of this poem, both as an original piece of poetry and as fanwork. It's not on ao3 for reasons including 'I haven't gotten around to it' and 'I don't know if this is sufficiently transformative, by the invisible guidelines I've just set for myself.'

Thank you for sending this to me, it was a lovely thing to think about on my Friday eve! <3

[waivyjellyfish]

What if... Es with a fixed face causing the The uncanny valley effect.

The warden never changes their face expression like a doll. But there aren't hinges on the elbows and knees, the skin and hair are quite humanlike. And they moves as smoothly as any human, except their face. It doesn't change. The eyes wide open and not blinking, and the gaze is directed only forwards, therefore the warden either turns their whole head to see or or unfolds with the whole body. When they talks their mouth doesn’t move. Even when they screams. No one’s ever seen warden eating or drinking. Their face is soft and it can be kneaded like any other, Mahiru had checked it during the first trial. And that makes it so much scarier and uncomfortable, because the warden’s face somehow doesn't move completely. The whole body moves, but not the face.

[urhoneycombwitch]

okay here’s how you lasso cowboy!Eddie into finally giving in. he’s 40 in this btw (you’re whatever age you want above 18, obvi mdni) yes he has salt and pepper long hair tied back in a messy bun under his cowboy hat. NEXT QUESTION.

cw: older!cowboy!Eddie, u choose how much older, +18 mdni, foot kink I guess???

you’ve been a hired ranch hand for his place over the summer. he asks you to stay long past the rest of the crew’s leave date. still doesn’t make a move.

so here’s what you do. helping Eddie out in the barn one day, yelping at a piece of straw that stabs your finger as you’re moving hay bales.

you let Eddie baby you. he softens like butter in a hot mouth, pulling off your glove, cradling your hand to prod at the spot with calloused and gentle fingers.

“quit whinin’. it barely poked ya, sweetheart.” he’s gotta throw in a bit of gruffness to keep level-headed, because Eddie’s feeling suddenly warm under his leather vest.

you let it slide. wait patiently while he frees his bandanna from the back of his Levi’s, as he blots the spot of blood from your fingertip and tsks at you.

“you smell good, Eddie.” you’re not just flirting- he smells like wood smoke and sweat and earthy weed.

his fingers stall out halfway to dropping your hand, so now he’s just holding your wrist- tight. “careful, sweetheart.”

two words that have a devastating effect, your lips parting, thighs clenching involuntarily.

his eyes bore into yours, dark cinnamon from under the brim of his hat. Eddie lets your hand drop.

later. he’s out in his rocking chair on the wraparound porch. boots firm on the old wood flooring, heady weed smoke curling around the bandanna tied- the same black one from earlier. twined into the dark mane of his hair.

“nice chair, old man,” you tease, tiptoeing barefoot across the grass lawn towards him. in nothin’ but a silk nightie and a button-down red flannel of his- open. nipples peeking through the thin fabric.

“watch it, darlin’.”

that slow drawl again. he tips his head back against the chair, pointedly ignoring the scrape of your opposing chair, keeping his eyes fixed on the stars even when your feet work your way into his lap.

but something draws him in like a magnet. his left hand falls to rest on your ankle, thumb smoothing down the outside arch of your foot.

you slouch further against your armrests as Eddie digs a thumb into the muscle of your sole, purring low in your throat as he works into it.

your other foot trails up the seam of his jeans, and he hisses when you make contact with his clothed cock, filling out under each of your movements.

he doesn’t tell you to be careful, this time.

[entriprises]

glimpses at bradley & carole over the years but specifically a handful of moments around one cass elliot song that has played without end through his entire childhood.

the radio bounces off of the increasingly empty walls of the military apartment that up until now bradley has known as home. he’s four, he won’t really remember it, and for the moment the excitement of boxes and sorting is much more captivating than the confusion he has about where they’re going. 

“oh don’t even even bother with none of that. he’s growing like a weed.” carole’s voice is soft into the end of the phone. in her hands she twists the cord looking out at bradley who’s climbing onto a stack of boxes. “bradley!” phone left to dangle, no longer supported by her shoulder and head, she shrieks and catches his arm before he gets any further— god forbid he falls through them, causes them to topple, or whatever else. it’s the last thing either of them need right now.

bradley’s head turns with a small yelp as he wriggles against the hold she has on him. it’s a futile effort. carole has him. 

with a small toy plane in one hand he waves it through the air. “it’s like the movie!” she picks him up with both arms, holding him on his hip as he protests with mumbles of wanting to reenact some movie scenes that’s taken over his young mind. she can’t figure out for the life of her what movie this could be— it might not even be a real one. 

“the boxes aren’t for climbing!” carole continues to huff out frustration and grief, heading back towards the abandoned phone. “you almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“i wanted to get to the top and then throw the plane!”

“bradley-“ she yanks the phone back up by the cord, her mother on the end having already caught the gist of the moment. “ma you still there?”

what lasts of their conversation is another minute of carole trying to soothe her mother’s nerves, that she doesn’t need anymore help, that she doesn’t need her parents to make a trip out— and just when she feels as though she’s about to start yelling at her, bradley comes in as a saving, annoying grace with his jet sounds. a loud woooosh is blown right up against carole’s ear, and she abruptly puts an end to the call. that all about ends how long she’s willing to keep holding the ambitious kid too. bradley’s feet touch the ground and he takes off running, the toy plane soaring through the air by his hand. 

letting out a long sigh, she leans against the wall, head thunking against it. the sound of a cass elliot song starts to flood the space. reaching behind her, she cranks the radio volume up. carole takes the moments she’s given to bring her rising temper down. humming turns to singing, and she turns the dial even more. 

“that’s loud!” bradley appears, little hands cupped over his ears. 

she moves off the wall to approach, “but you’ve gotta make your own kind of music!” 

the car radio dial is turned far to the right under carole’s fingertips, and bradley rolls up the window with the same speed as which his mom cranks the sounds of cass eliot’s make your own kind of music, singing along already at her own top volumes. he’s eight, sitting behind the passenger seat he’s longing for permission to finally start sitting in, and starting to turn red in his ears with embarrassment. 

“oh come on!” carole’s arm swings out to try and squeeze any part of bradley that she can grab, with him pushing his legs up against the car door to avoid just that. 

he swears the song is only popular and kept alive by his mom— and he would even believe that she might be calling into the stations requesting it at least once a month just to keep torturing him like this. 

“even if nobody else sings along,” the broom tilts in her hand, carole leaning as far right as she can without falling over. she’s a little winded as she stands back up straight on her feet, with bradley standing no more than a foot away to pull the broom turned microphone away from her. 

his mom is moving just a bit slower than usual during the sunday cleaning routine and he is just past the age of eleven, itching for a chance to get to the mall and meet up with a couple of school friends. he’s impatient, and oddly productive, going from room to room and speeding through every chore carole could possibly throw at him. he’s vacuumed the living room, his room, hell even hers. he’s wiped down the bathroom counters, dusted— though bradley has little idea of what this chore actually entails and has mostly just wiped a rag across surfaces— and he’s even cleaned his room. 

“can we please go now?”

“you’re gonna be nowhere...” she cups his face, singing softly, as he pulls his face away to instead place the car keys in one of her hands.

“or i could be at the mall!” he doesn’t know how to urge her more than he already has, but he thinks as long as he moves towards the door then she’ll follow, and of course carole does but not without more singing.

“you gotta… make your own…” a line of red is drawn across carole’s lips with her lipstick. “kind of music.” she’s a couple steps behind the song, with a long stare in the mirror that answers the question that’s only just begun formulating in her mind. the shade just doesn’t go. bradley doesn’t get it— not when she reaches for a tissue and wipes it all off and not when she explains to him it’s too bold for what she has picked out. he thinks the red is a fun color on his mom. carole thinks so too. 

he’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, and lips pushed together in a line. his discomfort is written all over him. carole can’t miss it though all her attention is on the new subtler lipstick in hand. “just say it.”

“say what?” fourteen, a star student, and yet bradley’s clueless as to how she constantly knows before he does that he wants to speak.

“say whatever it is you want to say.” the lipstick is perfectly applied, even though she sways through it all. 

his shoulders shrug up, eyes heading only in one direction— the collection of framed photos on carole’s dresser. the centermost one is of course the one it has been for years, his parents wedding day. flatly, he tells her, “i don’t have anything to say,” except that he does.

“then quit makin’ that face before you’re stuck that way-” 

“is it the same guy?” his words blurt out before she’s done and the hum and dance she’d been up to fizzles out. 

she pushes her feet instead into a pair of shoes, digging deep to admit to him, “yes, as a matter of fact, and his name is james.” when she looks up, and she’s met with his wide eyes, she adds a more gentle statement to her answer, “it’s just a date, brad.”

“your millionth one.” bradley’s not certain what the feeling he has is, but something makes his words a little sour.

“it is not our millionth one, it’s our…” she has to count on her fingers, totaling with a shrug and her hands landing on his arms. they move up and down trying to soothe him. “it’s our eighth which hardly means anything baby, i’m not bringing him home you can calm down.” he’s looking up at her, though carole knows it won’t be for much longer that he does that. her baby is getting tall, and he’s growing up, and it’s never more obvious than when he pulls his head away from her when she tries to fix his hair. 

there’s a small groan as he asks, “you’ll be home by eleven?” 

“eleven? i’m not bringing him home, but i still want to have fun!” her shoulders wiggle in a dance and he doesn’t have to say anything, but his face comes together in such a perfect disgust that it tells her exactly how grossed out he is by any sort of implication there is. she doesn’t hide her laugh. “i won’t be later than twelve. you should be asleep by ten thirty anyways.”

“mm-kay.” he agrees because it’s not something that’s up for debate— she’s always been serious about bedtimes, except when a new episode airs a little later than usual one week or when she’s roped him into some expedition for milkshakes. and though he likely won’t be asleep till the door closes behind her upon her return, bradley would rather she believe he’s giving in to this. “have fun.”

pushing off the doorway, he’s caught in a quick kiss to the cheek that he returns though with much less gusto on his part. it’s a small goodnight before he’s off to his room to finish homework, and carole continues chasing after the rhythm of the same song for at least another five minutes. her singing is always somehow behind, and from the safety of his room bradley can hear the poorly timed lyrics as his mother sings out: “sing your own special song!”

sitting under a banner that reads: happy retirement, bradley’s wide eyes are searching for carole or even pete through the clumps of family friends and complete strangers. he’s not unlike a couple of the other teenagers and kids who have been dragged to the celebration— awkwardly passing time and unsure of how to interact with each other. these aren’t cousins, childhood friends, or schoolmates. these are kids bradley’s seen maybe twice in his life before and absolutely none of them have a lick in common except that all their parents know the man retiring that the party is for.

that’s not to say he hasn’t found some way to enjoy the party— he has. it’s full of navy members, all with great advice for him as he keeps his sights set on the naval academy. though admittedly he is growing a little tired of the questions about his future. those are all the questions he’s been getting these days, along with ones about how his mom is really doing. 

it’s exactly the conversation he’s trapped in as he searches for her. 

“those are all quite the ways away,” aileen’s voice drips with judgment over his list of potential colleges— backups, that he promised his mom he’d apply to, “y’know from your mom.” she doesn’t need to add the last bit. he knows exactly what she’s shaming him for, though he hardly thinks its a fair thing to put on his sixteen year old shoulders.

“they were actually her idea,” he snaps back, standing from the picnic table. all the other school name he can only rattle off because his mom’s been the one to put them in front of him. he has no interest in the university of virginia or northwestern or anything else. “yeah, so.” bradley knows he’s run out of patience for aileen or the subject of his mom’s health— she’s fine.

she’s fine for now, and there’s no greater proof of that then the fact he spots carole’s head going from side to side, excitement growing in her as she yells out over the sound of chatter and an unbelievably familiar tune coming out of the stereo. “oh i love this song!” 

bradley thinks it’s grown on him lately.

“oh honey!” carole’s arm swings around bradley’s neck, pulling him closer down towards her bed as she presses a kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” there’s another kiss, “thank you!” and another. he finally pulls away from her, taking a seat again in the chair that he’s more or less occupied for the last week beside her hospital bed. in her lap is the box of endless cd’s he’s brought from home and his cd player. he’s bought a couple of others— singers he knows she’s caught here and there over the radio that she wishes she could hear again. his entire yard work savings has gone towards them. norah jones, cher, linda ronstadt— they’re all there as she flicks through them. “since when do we have this?” pulling out one case, he shrugs, and doesn’t give her questions any real answers. bradley just soaks up the clear joy all over her face. it’s a nice change of pace from the exhaustion. “i think this is exactly what i’ve been missing.”

he smiles, a smug sort of look tugging at one side of his mouth as he digs through his backpack for his homework. he stacks on the small rollaway table his math textbook, notebook, and whole handful of pens— he never remembers to throw out the ones that no longer work— and settles in. 

it’s only when he feels fried, about an hour into his schoolwork, that he notices his mom is singing. with so many cd boxes open, and the music soft in the headphones, he hadn’t had a clue before what she’d actually put in, but maybe he should’ve. 

the hum is unmistakable. 

“but you’ve gotta make your own kind of music, sing your own special song,” his pen taps at his book, eyes completely glossing over the problems, as he mumbles the words under his breath. 

carole however isn’t as shy— though she keeps of course her environment in mind, singing no louder but with much more enthusiasm, “make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along.” by then, both of their head are bopping and his singing is just clear enough for her to notice. pushing one side of the headphones off her ear, she watches his overgrown hair sway from side to side. 

bradley’s still focused on the textbook, flipping pages to see just how much he has left, and of course singing along, “so if you cannot take my hand, and if you must be goin’ i will understand,” though carole lets him finish singing alone. 

[lesbeet]

i have a question about the list about zionism and antisemitism, the one that's dont "tell Jewish Israelis to "go back where they came from". i understand that there are jewish settlers that will have difficulty moving somewhere else, but doesn't this still perpetuate that colonizers have more of a right to the land than the people who they killed to take it? like the assumption is if we don't tell colonizers they should leave, then they have can stay and continue to occupy the land and resources that were stolen from palestinians

i feel like a palestinian person (or someone else who has been victim to colonization) can answer this better than i can, but i personally have never seen actual palestinians calling for all jewish israelis to remove themselves from the land completely. i don't think the only options are "jewish israelis stay and continue to oppress palestine" or "all jewish israelis vanish from the land without a trace" and imo suggesting so only perpetuates the idea that all palestinians/muslims hate all israelis/jews and have no interest or willingness to cohabitate in a scenario where all people are treated as equals (i'm not the person to ask regarding HOW to make this happen tho)

also like......i know this isn't the problem or responsibility of palestinians who lost their land to colonizers, but where should the jewish israelis go "back to"? setting aside the argument of jewish indigeneity altogether, as that post mentioned, many jews who initially relocated to israel (like post-shoah, not present-day) did so because they were being persecuted in the countries they were coming from. many of those countries are still not particularly safe for jews, and would DEFINITELY not become so in the event of a mass migration. i feel like you're picturing a country full of european and american olim who made aliyah in the last several decades bc of israeli propaganda/intentional annexing of land, but that's not the majority by any means.

again, that's not to say "oh well, they're already there so it would be pretty shitty to make em leave, palestine will just have to deal" but like. it's not realistic and it's also not what anyone is asking for. palestinians just want equal rights and to have stewardship over their ancestral homeland. and yknow, not to be physically and emotionally and socially eviscerated for the crime of existing in a politically frought (and politically advantageous) region. probably some reparations, and rightfully so. nobody is going to forcibly expel the israelis - if anything, some will leave on their own bc they're too racist to give up their privilege and continue to live there as equals, and the rest will be people living in a multiethnic, multifaith country

[hoots-the-owl]

Hey gang, rate these drafts I have saved for some reason

[geddy-leesbian]

tfw your boyfriend says he's never seen a seahorse in person so you take him to an aquarium and he forms a parasocial relationship with one

[dipyronegirl]

it’s honestly so cute how you have to build trust with ur cat like u start picking them up when they’re little bc u can’t help how cute they are and they don’t like it but u pet them and scritch their chin and put them down gently so they slowly stop being afraid of being tossed back to the point where they relax completely on ur hands and lay back and let u carry them around like a sack of potatoes cause they know u won’t let them fall and then they start purring😭

[vomitgulper]

Sorry i just feel like rambling but like. Honestly i think that watcher!grian is a really cool idea but the problem is that people are making grian super out of character. Grian is mischievous, flighty, and loves some good drama. It drives me insane when him as a watcher is characterized with all this angst and sadness like, no! Grian would actually LOVE pulling strings and seeing all the different universes his friends live in and actively using it to mess with people. The life series!!!! He loves causing as much chaos and violence in those as possible how could you possibly characterize him as hating it and being like ohhhh its so much torture wahhh. No! Hes the one that set it up hes thinks its fun its enrichment he loves having god powers to fuck around and be a little freak. Idk no hate to the mega angst lovers out there i know theres alot of you in this fandom but like do you understand me idk its my vision

[bisexual-cryptid]

if you want to know what it’s like in my brain, imagine if you will: you have taken an edible, drank three bangs, and also there is heavy metal playing in the background. hope that clears stuff up.