#i've gone entirely off the rails tho

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

I'm one of those "weirdos" with a "self autonomous" muses, and as one of those weirdos, I think there's a very distinct difference between people like me, and people who use that as an excuse to force their self-insert fantasies. I've generally identified three main categories of roleplayers. People who write CHARACTERS, people who write SELF-INSERTS and/or WISH-FULFILLMENT, and people who write MUSES (and a 4th "people who make blogs but never actually roleplay" but that's irrelevant here). Yes I know "muse" is basically just another word for "inspiration", but hear me out. People who write CHARACTERS are the ones who go through conscious and deliberate decisions on how to write ("I think the character would think and act like this in this situation"), and are more likely to be pre-plotted heavy while sticking to the plot that was decided on without deviating from whatever was agreed upon. If it does deviate, it usually involves a lot of OOC discussion around it. Then there are your SELF-INSERT-y / WISH FULLFILLMENT writers. They aren't writing characters, nor muses. They're writing their projections of their fantasies of what they WANT characters to be, including bending or breaking character to achieve the desired result (Shippers are especially guilty of this). Such people frequently also try to manipulate OTHER PEOPLES' muses into bending/breaking character or manipulate the muns writing their target characters to, once again, achieve their personal fantasy. They might CLAIM to have a "self-autonomous muse" that "does what they want outside of their control", but this is a lie, and you can usually tell when you're dealing with one of these people instead of a Muse writer because that line will be used to excuse disrespecting OOC boundaries and force interactions / writing that other writers are not okay with, even after you've made those boundaries clear. Coercion is a common theme, but some particularly ballsy wish-fulfillment writers will just straight up force things. And then you have your true-blue ("self autonomous") MUSE writers, with characters who "write themselves" without putting much actual thought into it. And Muses can be fun, but they can also be annoying because they will frequently go off the rails at a moment's notice from what you wanted / decided while giving you the fat middle finger, and trying to force them back where you want them to go is tantamount to inciting writers block mutiny. The difference, to me, between the earlier described Wish-Fulfillment writer that pretends their muse "can't be controlled", and the ACTUAL Muse writer, is the Muse writer may not be able to control or change what their Muse wants to say, think, or do, but if it crosses another roleplayers' boundaries (or the writers' own boundaries ; yes, sometimes our muses trespass on OUR boundaries, even tho we write them. Think of it like an unwelcomed intrusive thought), the writer can still choose to NOT WRITE IT. I've written a LOT of Muses over the years. Some of them villainous or straight up nasty. I have also put a lot of Muses in "Time Out", or even retired some entirely and haven't gone back to writing them, because the Muse wanted to go in a certain direction and either 1) it would've crossed another writers' boundaries, or 2) it was something that I didn't want to write even if the OTHER PERSON was okay with it. If the person claiming they "don't control their muse" is using it to coerce or force an interaction you don't desire or are uncomfortable with, yes, THOSE people are just using characters to veil their own personal fantasies and are best AVOIDED (dealt with and seen plenty of THOSE people myself).

But generally, I find that if the OOC WRITER is willing or even WANTS to hard-stop an undesired interaction/thread/whatever should that situation arise (and isn't claiming they want to just to coerce you into agreeing to undesired themes, very important distinction! If you express discomfort and then reluctantly agree and they're TOO eager to get right back to it without considering your feelings, that's a BIG red flag) then chances are they actually do have a "Muse" separate from their personal desires and fantasies. A genuine "Muse controls themselves" writer will happily stick that Muse in the time-out corner if they refuse to behave themselves.

[elsfairy]

How would submissive/bottom Sevika look tho 👀?

Either I'm half asleep or really stupid, but if you mean by how she looks when she's getting fucked or pleasured then well, let me use my sleepy brain for a second.

First of all, whenever I think/write about sevika being a sub, I just envision her being flustered. Really fucking flustered. You're kissing her neck? I don't doubt for a minute she's not blushing at the way your lips trace her skin, nibbling and sucking every few minutes. The woman is a mess whenever you're alone. I'm sorry, she radiates top energy in public but when you're the only one in a room with her? She's got those fucking puppy eyes.

I think she's the type to pout. If you're teasing her and not giving her what you know she wants and needs, then she's looking at you with a pout and once again, those pleading doe eyes. You weren't exactly surprised by how she looked at you, but sometimes you are. Sorry but she does pout. Yall can't change my mind.

Speaking of doe eyes, she has needy ones too. If you're doing something like playing with her hair, I think its enough for her to go limp and just look at you with such desperation, her way of saying "I need you" or "please touch me"

God I'm rambling. Okay let's just move on.

When she takes your strap. My god. I think about this a lot, and I can't help but think she would be blushing the entire time. The dim lights hide it from you, but it would be there. So evident on her face.

Breathtaking. She looks beautiful under you. Her damp hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. The tears well up in her eyes because you're so good to her. She would have such a beautiful fucked out face.

I'll be real, in all honesty, she would look good. So fucking good. She's never really done this before, she's always the top but I can just see how blissed out she would be. The thin layer of sweat covering her body when she desperately takes your strap, your fingers and your mouth.

Having the scariest woman under you, looking at you all flushed and needy? That's a hot sight by itself. Sevika sprawled out, looking absolutely ravished beneath you is so hot.

My ADHD is coming out, I've gone off the rails and I'm still rambling. Sorry, this is so short or doesn't remotely answer anything, I haven't slept much but I think she would look really beautiful. Eyes glossy and dazed by the way you touch and pleasure her. She would look so fucking bratty when she's asking you for more. But also, she would look small. Her lips quiver when you deny her but you just can't help it because like this, her all hot and bothered is so hot and beautiful.

[attackthemap]

I missed the SKZoo preorder so of course I had to make my own Wolf Chan.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hi is it okay if I ask you to write a little something about the boys meeting a witch? I've seen so many takes on this but I'd like to see how you would pictute it going, no pressure tho

Okay, I was really excited when I saw this in my ask box!! Okay so this is definitely going to be a fic rather than an imagine. Here you go!!

A Reading (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

Next Chapter ->

Warning: minor cursing, harassment

Word Count: 2266

You didn’t even know why they went after you. You weren’t a black magic witch. While you’d casted the occasional hex, you never sacrificed anyone for your practices or cursed anyone. You were mostly a divination witch, that dabbled a little in telekinesis, but you didn’t consider yourself a threat. To anyone living or dead.

When you first arrived in Santa Carla, you had no idea what you were walking into. You had no idea about the vampires living there, or else you might not have come to the beach-side town at all. You lived in a little caravan and you parked it right off the boardwalk. You needed a place to stay, a place without persecution. Even though the witch trials had ended centuries ago, it didn’t mean witch hunters didn’t still prowl around.

You didn’t have the luxury of living with a coven, and you weren’t well-connected enough to even find one if you wanted to. A lone witch encroaching on a covens territory was dangerous business, and that’s why you had chosen Santa Carla. There wasn’t a coven in the entire town, or even the neighboring towns. You had the entire area to yourself, and you never really thought as to why that would be. You didn’t plan on staying long. Just long enough to make some cash from some tourists, and then you’d start driving up north. For a witch without a coven, it was always best to keep moving.

You set up a table outside, covered it with a table cloth, and set up your cards, cups, and tea pot. It didn’t take long for some curious boardwalk go-ers to wander down. You’d read their palms, their tea leaves, and their cards. You’d perfected your craft. Their palms showed you their past, their tea leaves showed you their present, and their cards would show you their future. All of your fortunes were always right, and sometimes people didn’t like that. People didn’t want to hear the truth. So, whenever a fortune showed something too bad, you knew to give it to them gently. You’d get a better tip that way.

You had noticed a group of boys leaning against the railing, watching a few of your readings. Sometimes, specifically when you fudged the details, they’d make snide remarks. You would always look up to glare at them, and their leader, the one with the platinum blonde hair, would always give you a smirk. You frowned. You could practically smell the trouble from here. The way they hung around, joked and jeered above you. It gave you the creeps. It didn’t matter if they were all attractive, you sensed something dark. They were attractive though.

The one on the far left, the brunette, was tall and intimidating. He would stare at you as you worked, his dark eyes never once leaving your face. His dark hair hung around his face, and down past his shoulders. You could see the exposed skin of his chest, but you didn’t let yourself look for long. He didn’t jeer like his friends, and instead would send a small smile when you would look his way. For some reason, you thought that was worse.

The one next to him was the leader. You could tell the second they had leaned against the railing, and you wanted to credit your intuition. Not the way he seemed to command everything around him. He murmured to the others commands or comments that you couldn’t hear, not matter how much you strained your ears. Platinum hair, ocean eyes, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. It was almost like he was forcing you to look, to see the smirk that dawned his features. You refused, and flicked your eyes to the next of the boys.

He was the smallest, and his face was crowned by a sea of golden curls. He was doe-eyed and had unfairly romanesque features. He looked more like a bust belonging in a museum than a punk on a random boardwalk. He grinned, but he covered it by placing a thumb between his teeth. His grin made his cherub face look mischievous, and it was as if he was trying to cover it up. Hide it. It unnerved you, and your eyes fell on the last of them.

He looked to be the most rowdy of the boys. He talked to the others loudly, and you had to glare at him a few times during your readings. He’d always cackle whenever he caught your eyes, and his crystal blue eyes would light up with glee. He even once sent you a wiggle of his fingers, and said,

“Hey there, sugar.” With a slight Californian drawl. It had led to the boy besides him, the little museum bust, giving him a small push. He’d enthusiastically returned it, and had a wide smile on his face when he looked back at you. He was tall and looked more glam rock than the others, with his blonde hair teased and wild as it fell down his shoulders, and you weren’t surprised when you saw him pull a homemade cigarette out of his jacket. 

But, still, your intuition told you not to underestimate him. Any of them, for that matter. They were dangerous. Each and every one of them. It didn’t make you feel better that they stayed even as the boardwalk began to empty and the night stretched on.

 After your last customer, what you assumed would be the last customer for the night, you went to make more tea. You locked the caravan door behind you and took your cards, the tray, and your money box with you. The table could be replaced, even if you’d have to dip into the money you made that night. Your familiar, a cat named Salisbury, rubbed against your leg. He could tell that you were nervous, but he didn’t know why. You put him back on your bed and gave his head a small kiss while the water heated up. When you came back out, you expected your table to be stolen or trashed and for the boys to be gone. You were going to collect whatever they had left.

Instead, their leader sat in the chair opposite of yours. You glanced up, and you saw that the other three were watching you closely. Curiously. The blonde rocker still had a small smile on his face, while the other blonde did not. Neither did the brunette. When you looked back at their leader, you had a bad feeling. You went back inside to grab your tray, tea cards, and the emptied money box. The pot you made for yourself was now going to have to be shared. You sat down in your chair, set down the small tray with the teapot, a single cup and saucer, and then took out your cards. You’d said your spiel about the fee probably fifteen times that night, and the boys had heard it at least five. You realized then that they’d been watching you for hours.

“My name is y/n. I do palms, tea, and cards. Past, present, and future respectively. It’s twenty one dollars for the set. Three readings, seven dollars each.” You said, and you held out your hand. He smirked, and he took out his cash. He placed it into your hand, his lingering just a moment longer than necessary, and said,

“David. I’ll take the set.” His voice was smooth like silk and incredibly charming. It made you even warier of him, especially when you felt just the hint of a suggestion. A mental one. You didn’t trust the boy, so you counted the cash. After you were satisfied, you tucked it into the money box. You held out your hands. You watched him take off his gloves, and you looked up into his eyes for only a moment. You regretted it the instant you did. You felt something worming into your mind, a mental attack. The crystal necklace you wore blocked it, but now you were on edge. You knew the attack had come from him. He wasn’t as normal as you thought. You guessed he was a warlock, or something of the sort. It explained the tight-knit group he had. You were hesitant to take his hand, but you pushed it away. Now, you had to know.

His hand was cold in yours, and he held it palm up. He watched you as you looked down at his hand and traced your fingertips over it in a small spiral. It only took a moment, and then you saw flashes.

You saw the brunette. Dwayne. You saw the angel-faced blonde. Marko. You saw the stoner rocker-type. Paul. You saw a face you didn’t recognize. Max. Then, blood. Screams. His friends faces, all changed and sharpened. Laughter. They enjoyed it. You saw yellow eyes with red, and then fangs- Vampires.

You ripped your hands away and you knocked the teapot into the sand. You gasped and covered your mouth, and you launched yourself out of your seat. You looked at him, and then you looked at the others. They’d all been leaning with their arms on the railing, but now they were moving to stand. So was the boy in front of you. David, Dwayne, Marko, Paul. All vampires. 

You were lucky the boardwalk was empty when you did this, as you didn’t really think. You panicked. You shoved both your hands out in front of you, and it knocked David back. He didn’t fall, but he had to steady himself. You grabbed your cards during his momentary distraction, and then you darted into your caravan and slammed the door shut. You locked it, but you knew it would be no use if they really wanted to come inside. They could probably rip the roof off your caravan if they wanted to. Still, you went around and locked all the windows, and you shut all of your curtains.

Vampires. Four of them. And you’d stupidly revealed yourself. And attacked one of them. You grabbed Salisbury off the bed, and held him tight to your chest. You had just made probably the stupidest mistake you could’ve made, but everything was quiet. Eerily quiet. You sat on the floor, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart by petting the cat in your arms. An hour had gone by. Sometimes, you’d hear whispers outside. They were so faint you thought you’d almost imagined them. You hadn’t moved, and you had only let Salisbury out of your arms when you were sure they had left. Then, the shaking started.

It felt like someone was shaking your caravan from each side, and your cat started going crazy. You raised both your hands, and stopped everything from falling to a crash onto the floor even as the vampires did their best to earn the sounds of things breaking inside. Salisbury yowled, and you screamed when one side, the side behind you, of the caravan was lifted. Only to be dropped back down with a crash. There was a roar of laughter, and an unknown voice told whoever had done it that they were an ass. Then, it stopped. The shaking stopped. You started to softly cry, and you let your hands fall. You heard scratching and whispers, and then the sound of someone walking on the roof of your caravan. The boys were talking and joking, and then their footsteps stopped. There was the sound of someone landing in the sand outside. You couldn’t see them, but you knew they were there. That this wasn’t a trick. They laughed, and you heard the sound of tapping on the window of the back wall, right above your makeshift kitchen. You heard a teasing voice call your name, and then,

“Come out, come out. We just want to play.” In a sing-song voice. You didn’t know which it belonged to, but it earned snickers from the other boys. Another joined it,

“C’mon, little witch. We won’t bite.” And then the dragging of nails against the window of the wall behind you. It was the voice of the rocker from before. “Hard.” He added, and another chorus of laughter. It’d been him that had lifted the caravan. Paul.

“Leave me alone!” Then, everything was quiet. A minute passed. And then another. The only sound was your sobs. They were going to kill you, you were sure of it.

A knock was at your door, and your cat hissed at it. You stared, and you waited. When you didn’t answer, there was another. It was a bang this time, and you jumped. Slowly, you stood. You went to the door, and wiped your face. You thought about whether or not you should open it. You figured that if you didn’t they were going to rip it open anyways. You unlocked the bottom lock, but not the chain. You gathered Salisbury up in your arms, so he wouldn’t run out. When you opened the door, you peered out through the crack. David smirked, and he tilted his head when he saw you. He gestured to the door, but you refused to remove the chain. Or let them inside. You stared back, and he let out a soft sigh and rolled his eyes. The boys snickered behind him, and then you whispered,

“What do you want?” You were terrified. The four vampires had just terrorized your home, and you were sure they were going to drain you next. A slow smile spread across Davids face, and then he said,

“You never finished my reading.”

[badgerhuan]

1, 3, 12, 15, 19!

hello mar!!! thank you so much for sending :D

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

oh, it has to be sin city's cold and empty, written with @threeoaksy. i dare say it's the fic i'm most proud of as well.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

this has never been shared outside of a handful of my friends, but oaksy and i built and planned out an entire, separate au for RBL that we also wrote bits of together on and off, and i still think it this part is something i'm very proud of:

Les sees Rob's left hand reach for the railing half a second before it makes contact, and countless mornings of watching Rob struggling to barely hold on to a coffee mug with that same hand come flashing across his mind.

His body is moving forward before his brain can process why. He sees Rob's eyes snap open in shock as his hand gives out, and then he's looking right at Les, face full of panic, and his right hand reaches out to him as he falls.

Later, Les will wonder what that half a second might have cost them.

Right now, right then, he can only gasp in relief when he manages to close his fingers around Rob's wrist and stop his descent into the frigid water below.

But the relief is gone the next second. He's barely holding on to Rob as it is, and his other hand that had instinctively grabbed hold of the railing is losing strength way too fast. Fuck. Either he lets Rob go or he falls with him, and the one thing Les knows is that he will never do the former.

He meets Rob's eyes again, and hates that he can see in the terror on his face that Rob had reached the same conclusion as he had.

"Les-"

"No!" Les grounds out between clenched teeth. He won't let Rob say it. He won't do it. Not a fucking chance. If he has to fall with Rob, then so be it.

Just before Les loses grip on the railing, a pair of familiar arms, much stronger and longer than his own, reaches over him and grabs hold of Rob.

12. favorite character to write about this year

listen. i've written nothing but RBL this year. i love our boys so much. whenever i'm writing one of them i'll miss writing the other two. and even tho Les is a little bit harder for me to write i thoroughly enjoy writing him.

15. something you learned this year

i THRIVE when i write in tandem with someone else. i don't know what this means about my inability to write anything on my own, but i rather enjoy working with other people.

19. any new fics to start next year

i would hope that we'll have more rbl cooked up to unleash into the wild 👀

( fanfic end of the year asks )

[numbaoneflaya]

I've been following u for a while and. can i ask who is pisswolf? i know it's ur oc but i don't know anything else,,, also who is vince?

hghfdshdh pisswolf is vincent! People just call him that bcs hes a piss loving werewolf. And hes from the game boyfriend to death, which is 18+ horrorporn game. Hes one route from one of the games but iv kind of gone off the rails with him so my vincent is kind of far off from the original in a lot of ways lmao.  U can check out my ‘pisswolf’ or ‘ferret and pisswolf ‘ tags for shit on him and jilly (who is jilly and entirely my oc) . I dont rec u look him up unless your 18+ tho bcs he is very nsfw