#if anyone has any tips on how to like. make this better please dm me ive never done commisons before.

[lesbian-cowpoke]

Hi! I'm Cowpoke, I do art n stuff, and I am in seed of money so...

Semi Emergent commissions are open!

Now cowpoke, what is a semi emergent commission? Well. A lot of emergency commissions I see are like, ppl going to be evicted, and I'd feel bad if I labeled my situation an emergency so. Semi emergency. My moots and those who have followed me for a bit would know that I'm a uni student, and disabled, making it very hard for me to get a job. And I live in a city with terrible public transportation, so. I have to drive myself. And gas costs money, of which I have none. I also have to buy a textbook that I can't "legally" get online (I have to write in it n stuff, tear out pages for lab) so, I also need money for that.

So: Commissions!

Here are examples of my art (tumblr destroys the quality but if I give you the image via like dms or smth it is better)

The first two are unshaded, while the last one is shaded.

Pricing:

Bust (Shoulders/mid chest) $9

Thigh $10

Fullbody $12

Add another character +$4

Add shading +$1

What I don't/can't do:

I won't do incest, pedo, other such things

I can't do NSFW, backgrounds (I can try but I make no promises), and detailed gore

My work is not for commercial use btw

Don't be afraid to ask for things!

I use cashapp mostly, but if you use another app I'll just make an account for it haha.

You can DM me for more info and stuff!

My goal is $40 (a full tank of gas)

50% or any money I make over $40 will be donated directly to a Palestinian family or charity (if you want you can choose which one, I can also provide recipts or whatever to the commisoner) (I would like to donate more but 40 bucks is only one tank of gas. I will need more in the future and I cannot get a job rn so. I'm doing what I can. I may donate more than 50% if I feel like I can.)

I'm sorry this is so long haha!

I mostly do dc art but I will draw like. Anything.

[safety-pin-punk]

Any good tips for any baby punks out there? I'm new to the scene and need some advice. Any advice for diy's/ideology/music/ect?

Hi!! Sorry its taken me so long to get to this, I’ve traveled about 1300 miles (aprox 2093 km) in the last 2 weeks

Tips for baby/puppy punks!! Yes! I have a lot of those, but I’ll summarize into the important ones:

The absolute most important thing I can tell you is to develop critical thinking skills (if you don’t already have them). Dont just hop on a bandwagon because all the other punks are doing it. Take the time to learn and form your own opinions on something

The second most important thing I can tell you is to always take advice/criticism with a grain of salt (this applies to things outside of alternative sub cultures as well). People will tell you things. Sometimes they are lying or dont know any better. Sometimes their advice will work for one person but not another. For example, a lot of people say if you dont dress the part, you arent punk. However, sometimes it takes a while to build up an alternative closet. Sometimes people live in an area where it may not be safe to wear their opinions on their sleeves (especially minors). Sometimes people just like the color pink and thats *fine*. This mindset can be applied to literally everything. Just do what works for you

That leads nicely into my 3rd point, you dont have to dress or look a certain way OR listen to certain bands to be punk. Anyone who says otherwise is a poser. That being said, it’s generally accepted that you shouldnt wear shirts or patches for bands you’ve never even heard of (no one can stop you but you might be labeled a poser)

Advice specifically for diy: watch videos, if you want to learn how to make a specific thing there is 100% a video somewhere on it. Also, ask people. If someone has something really cool and you want to learn how they made it, go talk to them (assuming its not some dark alley). Some materials you might want to start collecting are can tabs, bottle caps, and safety pins

Music advice that I will die by: You dont have to listen to punk music to be punk. Sure, its an important part of the subculture, but not the only part. Its more important to learn about punk values than headbang until your neck snaps

Thats all I can think of off the top of my head, but if you have more specific questions please feel free to send in more asks or DM me!!

[dogslosing]

welcome to toujours, an experience of a lifetime.

bare with me as it's been a while since i did something like this, but it's that time of the year where i'm itching to write, develop and world-build and there's no better place sometimes to do that then in a group verse.

that said, there are a couple of rules. pretty self explanatory of course but if anyone has any questions, feel free to message me!

no god modding.

ic interactions do not equal ooc. if something happens in character, it is important to remember that it is not personal nor directed at the mun, it is the reaction of the muse only.

inclusivity is important. no one should feel left out. this is a group effort.

that being said, just because something is plotted does not mean it is set in stone. sometimes chemistry happens between muses when you least expect it and everyone should be able to explore connections without feeling tied down / fear of upsetting someone.

try not to bubble rp. we understand that our muse can fluctuate and be stronger for one connection over another sometimes. sometimes, you feel like writing one muse over another, but please use your best judgement and be open to others.

life can get busy, but please don't join if you don't think you can be on at least 2 days out of the week. in order for a group to thrive, the group needs to be active.

you can apply for a max of two muses.

taken fcs: lucien laviscount, leah halton

reserved fcs: amataalp, matheus claus, madison beer, jacob elordi, olivia holt, justin bieber, sophie nelisse, chico moedas, cindy kimberly, austin butler, lexi wood

app count: 14

application: [ fc, gender, pronouns ] is that MUSE NAME i just saw checking into the hotel ? the AGE IN LETTERS year old is known as TROPE, which makes sense given they’re both + POSITIVE ╱ - NEGATIVE and associated with 3-5 AESTHETICS HERE. don’t tell anyone, but i heard SECRET HERE. i wonder what will happen now that they’re in paris … [ alias, timezone, url ]

applications will close on sunday, july 21st. if anyone needs an extension, please let me know. when the time comes, i will send through the server. please submit your applications here. if you're afraid it won't go through, feel free to dm me!

general plot: the verse is set in the south of france. bennett is a renowned hotel that doubles as a sex club called toujours.

the feds have been tipped off for corruption and are now keeping a close eye -- curious about what could be going on behind closed doors at the hotel. so be careful, not everyone is your friend and not everyone knows how to keep a secret.

the hotel is an infamous spot where the 1% come to visit -- whether to have lunch, use the pool, or grab a couple of drinks at the rooftop. they could be a guest of the hotel, work for the hotel, or work for the club. they could also be a member of the club. the options are endless!

listen here.

[spaceyaceface]

I should have specified that it wasn't just your writing that put me off on you, but if I ever said anything to your face in the server, everyone would be clamoring to defend the "Patron Saint."

Which by the way, whoever said that? Was it in the DMs for you to repeat with pride like a badge of honor to feel special? I'm all for people spending time talking, drawing, or writing about the things they love, but every other message that comes from your finger tips makes me feel exhausted. Like I don't even want to be apart of this fandom and accidentally support someone like you.

You've misrepresented disabled peeps, gone off on rants for them when hello - let us speak for ourselves maybe? With attention seeking behavior of bragging about your organization skills, only speaking to those that are popular, and by creating an entire archive as if us writers will disappear. If we do disappear, that's none of your business and not your job to preserve what we put out. Ao3 and Wattpadd exist anyway for us to use if we choose to.

You can pretend all you like that you're living rent-free in my head, that you're speshul to get hate, but truth is - I've seen what kind of person you are and I'm fucking tired of you. I'm tired of people like you, who have the loudest voices and refuse to let others speak for themselves. Who can't allow the conversation to drift off away from them in group settings, and I'm tired of everyone who would have a heart attack if I said one bad thing about you as though you are a literal saint. You aren't a nice person, you're just as bad as me - but at least I have the balls to be fucking honest with people and know when to shut up.

???? I am genuinely confused by a majority of what was said here, and please know that this is the last time I'll respond to you, anon.

Let's get the first thing straight. You don't like what I do? Block me. I don't care. The fact that you said server inclines me to think that we may have crossed paths on discord, and if so, please feel free to block me there, too.

Second, the whole "patron saint" thing is a joke because a while back, there was very little Ominis fanfic being written, so I started writing a bunch. Someone left a comment jokingly calling me 'the patron saint of ominis fics', which I thought was funny, and a couple other people also commented. So, as I joke I added it to my bio. End of story. It's not because I'm better than anyone or perfect or anything like that. It's a joke that I went along with.

While Ominis is disabled, I truly do my best to represent him the best I can. If I've ever said anything hurtful or wrong, then I am sorry about that. I would have greatly appreciated a kind critique letting me know what I've done incorrectly, to better that in the future. Besides Ominis, I have written ONE (1) other fic with a disabled character, which was specifically requested by a disabled person in which I did my best to follow their prompt exactly. I don't know what rants you're talking about. I have actually tried by best to stay away from most things regarding disability, because I myself am not disabled, and therefore have no experience in those conversations. I've made a conscious effort not to get involved in that, besides being a listening ear when others speak on it. However, it's inevitable that I'd touch on it briefly in the fics I write, as Ominis is fucking blind.

Again, any sort of pointers or comments on how to improve these interactions I've written would have been appreciated. How was I ever supposed to learn when no one has told me I'm doing something wrong?

As far as the archive goes, I just randomly suggested putting together lists of all the fics I could find---IT'S NOT THAT DEEP. I have no clue why this would annoy you, but once again, BLOCK IT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE IT. I've seen it done in other fandoms, thought it would be fun, others seemed to like the idea, and tada. Fun fact, if writers delete their writings, it the links won't work. They can still make it disappear if they want. I've said it on the sideblog, if people don't want their work on there, I will take it off, no questions asked. I just figured that since they're publicly posting to the internet, it's pretty much fair game.

I also do my best to interact with each and every person who does the same to me---I'm bad at initiating interactions because I have fucking awful anxiety and OCD, which also accounts for the "organizational skills" I brag about. I try to be as genuine and show my appreciation for all the people who are kind to me, because I am absolutely baffled anyone would take the time of day to say a nice thing to me. If you feel I talk about myself too much, then whatever. I use the internet to vent, whether on here or on discord.

And here I'm about to say the rudest thing I ever have on the internet, and it's this: I am not nearly as bad as you. Never in my life have I left anyone a nasty message full of personal attacks and accusations under the guise of "honesty." Nor will I ever do that, because there is enough hate and heartache in the world already. This behavior that you've displayed is the worst part of internet/fandom culture.

I'd like to bring this back full circle: Block me. If you check my blog again to see if I've responded, then obviously I'm at least somewhat living in your head. For the sake of both your mental health and my own, eliminate the tension by stopping here. You have no idea who I am so don't pretend for a second that you do.

For everyone else who had to read this, thanks for your support. I won't stop talking about myself or writing things I love, even if they're meaningless. I will never be replying to another hate comment on this blog.

[guiltyasdave]

hi Jana! i have a little question for you (you don't have to answer)

i would love to write like you one day and recently i wanted to start my journey with writing but i don't know how to do this. 😟 i'm afraid it will be too hard or overhelming and i don't want to fail.

do you have any tips or some advice?

thank you!

hi anon! this is the sweetest thing 🥺

i don’t have like a super organized writing process (and tbh i feel overwhelmed with it all the time lol) but i’ll try to put together some tips 🫶🏻

i think first and foremost i want to say, it’s not a competition and you’re never a failure! as long as you create something, even if it’s as short as five sentences, it’s always a win. you made something!

and i know it’s hard, and i struggle with that constantly, but try to not compare yourself to others. there’s always gonna be writers who you think are leagues above you, and you’re gonna read something and be like “damn, i wish i could write like that”. that’s normal, we’re always the most critical of ourselves, and i actually think it’s beneficial to aspire to be better, but it’s not beneficial to put yourself down because you think you’re never gonna be as good as person xyz. you have your voice that’s unique to you and no one is gonna be able to tell your story the way you are, just like you’re not able to tell someone else’s story. that’s the amazing thing about writing and storytelling <3

that’s more on the mindset side of things, so for a more practical approach: what do you want to write? especially if you’re worried about getting overwhelmed, it doesn’t have to be something big. maybe just a small scene, a bit of dialogue, a daydream that you want to put into writing, it doesn’t matter :)

just sit down and write it, however it comes to you. it doesn’t have to be perfect at the first try, and i promise you, everyone does edits, everyone has scenes that they have to rewrite because they don’t feel right. that’s completely normal! badly written words are better than no words!

if you don’t like what you wrote no matter what: step away from it for a bit. personally, i hate every single thing i write when it’s fresh. and when i come back to it later, more often than not i’m like “okay that’s actually not half bad”.

and most importantly: have fun with it! we’re all just making up silly little scenarios that we enjoy in our heads and that we hope others might enjoy too. i know how easy it is to get in your head and to put pressure on yourself, but really: just have fun 🫶🏻

please feel free to shoot me another ask or to slide into my dms if that’s something you’re comfortable with and if you do write and post something, please please let me know, i’d love to read it!

also, if anyone of the amazing writers on here has something to add, please do!

i feel like my writing advice always boils down to “idk bro just do it” so i hope this was in any way helpful. much love to you anon! 🤍

[hermitship-confessions]

hermitcraft and hermitcraft member obsession confession forum. can be nsfw or non-nsfw, i accept both gladly (nsfw will be tagged as such). can be shipping or non-shipping. can be self-shipping/self-inserting/self-gushing or shipping/gushing about hermits with other hermits (or anyone else). can be in-game/characters or irl (irl content will be tagged with #irl so that anyone who wants to filter for it can). all it has to include is brainrot of any type about/including any one or more hermit(s).

run by one mod with minimal-to-no experience running this sort of thing, so things may be slow or disorganized. if anyone else would like to join or help or has tips feel free to dm me please.

the singular mods name is currently: [gold or goldie], but since this can/does change, the mod also goes by mod tag: [mod magma]. gold/goldie/mod magma uses it/he/nameself/ne/any pronouns, with any and all neopronouns also welcome and enjoyed (the weirder the better).

rules, tagging, etc. under the cut!

the basics:

- 18+ only please. this blog can/will have sexual themes and for the safety and sanity of everyone involved, one should be 18+ to interact with this blog.

- don’t be a dick. don’t harass people. if you don’t like it, simply click away from it. if you would like something specific tagged that isn’t already being tagged for, feel very welcome to ask, however it may not end up being tagged for purely due to how many tags there would end up being to keep track of if tons of specific things are tagged.

- this blog welcomes non-irl and irl shipping/confessions. do not harass anyone about this. if you do not like irl content, you can filter for the irl tag.

- the content of this blog is fictional and purely for fun/entertainment. it is not made to seriously speculate on anyone or their real life personal information. while it may include some verified elements of individuals real lives, none of it is intended to be taken seriously nor is it intended to be an actual reflection of their real lives. if any private information about any individual that is not publicly known/provided is submitted to this blog, it will be immediately deleted - doxxing is not acceptable.

- each submission must include at least one hermit. the rest is up to you. submissions can include whoever else you would like in addition to said hermit(s), provided they are adults. controversial (in a loose sense) individuals like dream, wilbur soot, forever, etc. are highly highly discouraged though still allowed, however whether your submission is posted is purely up to the mods discretion and there is a quite high chance your submission may not be posted.

tagging:

- nsfw/explicit submissions will be tagged #nsfw

- submissions talking about irl hermits/individuals as opposed to their in-game characters will be tagged #irl

- basic things like death, gore, rape, and other commonly upsetting things will be tagged, but more specific things may not.

-the tagging system for individual hermits is currently in the works. there will be a way that each hermit in a submission is tagged so that they can be filtered for easily, however i am not quite sure as to what i’d like that to be at the moment as i don’t really want to tag a submission with just a hermits standard name and have the submission pop up in their normal tags (e.g. a post tagged “#etho” will pop up in the “#etho” main tag, and i’d like to avoid that if possible). i will probably just come up with some sort of convention or almost equation to convert a hermits name into a tag for this blog and post a list of them here (the hermits regular name and what they will be tagged as on this blog). i am tentatively thinking of making it their names but without any vowels (e.g. #tngtk for tangotek or #zmbcl for zombiecleo) but that might get confusing.

- if i, mod magma, ever have something i’d like to add to or comment on a submission, that submission post will also be tagged as #mod magma.

- any non-submission posts will be tagged as #not a submission, and any housekeeping/updates posts related to the blog itself will be tagged as #blog maintenance.

[aloeverawrites]

Hello, I’m Ameera a 23 years old Muslim lesbian who is trying to come out, I’ve been in the closet with my girlfriend for way too long, because of how dangerous and hard it is to come out as a lesbian to a religious Muslim family, but me and my girlfriend have decided to do whatever it takes and risk it all to come out, do you mind supporting and encouraging us?, though I know we all have what we dealing with, so I’m not imposing we just need all the support and encouragement we can get, check my pinned post for more information on how you can support, if you are a Muslim queer and you are out, please help with tips on how to make it less complicated, any word of advice is also really needed, we really wanna come out but we need y’all 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ pride please come through for us, I believe pride is for all

Hiya, I'm sorry it took me so long to reply to this, I'm terrible with asks and I didn't quite know what to say. It's really sad to know that you have to deal with things like this, that anyone has to.

You two deserve better.

Anyway, I don't mind and feel free to dm me anytime you want to talk. I haven't faced as much discrimination but I did have a hard time when I came out as bi and then as trans. I know it's not fun.

This is a song that really helped me out back then, I hope it helps you too. <3

The comments are full of people who understand too.

[miss-bibbles]

guide to writing a desi james potter (and even for harry)!

(desi is used for south asians. meaning india + pakistan, afghanistan, bangladesh, bhutan, maldives, nepal, sri lanka. now i’m indian so i can only speak about that but a lot of the tips are the same. please research! and be respectful while writing them! i’ll try to include as much as i can here)

i've lived here my entire life so trust me.

and this is gonna be long. under the cut!

1. james potter can remain james potter

we don’t usually anglicize our names. don’t go finding obscure names starting with j that you can anglicize to james.

it kind of perpetuates the stereotype of indian names being very hard to pronounce. and britain fucked us over so no way in hell we'll be changing our own name to something easier for white people to pronounce.

instead you can make potters indian christians. i have a lecturer named veronica so i can assure you people in india have all kinds of names.

its a suggestion of course. but i have read fics where james has very traditional and religious names. no problem with that but its a little out of the loop and old fashioned. but if you want some help with finding names then don’t hesitate to ask.

2. where is he from

okay so now this gets interesting. there are a 28 states and 8 union territories. james potter can be from anywhere and not just gujrat and punjab and tamil nadu.

where’s my james potter from the gorgeous seaside state of goa? from the busy heart of metropolitan mumbai? from the amazing states of northeast? from bengal? from madhya pradesh? from kerela? from-

okay this is not a geography lesson but you get my point! there are so. many. places. he can be from any of them.

3. religion

india has a big population of hindus, muslims, christians, sikhs, zoraostrians, buddhists, jains etc. agnostic and atheist people exist too (hi).

your indian character can be any of those, not just hindu. it affects the indian sounding name you choose for him.

example: goan christian james can be james maharashtrian hindu james can be jai

but being religious or not, it doesn’t stop us from enjoying all the amazing festivals. you don’t know what i’d do to read a jegulus diwali fic ashdjfksdj

4. looks

now i know everyone’s like obsessed with atj (i can’t see him as james at ALL) or for desi james, dev patel (god, he’s the only desi character in all hollywood movies im so sick of his face. i have much better fancasts).

but just like names, our looks are also different. pale, wheatish, dusky complexion. again depending on which state. we usually have dark eyes and hair. and light eyes like blue, green or hazel are pretty rare.

5. food

curry doesn’t exist. repeat after me. curry doesn’t exist.

naan bread isn’t real, naan is A BREAD. and even though butter chicken is tasty asf, we don't eat this on a daily basis, my dudes. (#justiceforpavbhaji). but we do eat a LOT of biryani (its apparently the most ordered meal in india lol)

and i know you want to make the "im very white for spices" jokes but where are my desserts????? rasmalai? gulab jamun? rabdi? so cloyingly sweet ashdj

and we call tea, chai and it can be sweet and spicy.

it would make me so happy seeing names of my favorite food sprinkled through out your fic even if you don't elaborate on his indian heritage much <;3

i can’t list off every single one of them here but my dms are always open if you need any help with them

6. not all of us

it makes me sad reading about fics where james doesn’t like his indian heritage. not all poc characters need an "accepting my culture" arc.

give me a james who loves how his skin looks, loves going back to india every summer, loves mythological stories and narrates them to harry every night before bed, is so excited when he takes regulus and his friends to india for the first time.

just so much potential. i have way way more headcanons for a desi james if anyone’s interested

7. languages

most of us grow up bilingual or trilingual. the first thing a lot of us learn is english alphabets and grow up with our family speaking hindi, english and the regional languages. and our accents are way more subtle that you think they are.

you know the drill - 22 recognized languages plus a lot of regional languages and thousands to millions of speakers for every single one of them.

8. for the love of everything gay, please do NOT use google translate

don’t trust google or online translators or dictionaries. they translate your sentences right but no one speaks like that irl so it sounds very fake.

interesting thing, we speak a mashed up new language called hinglish (code-switching and code-mixing of english and hindi) and it has way more speakers than just

i speak english, hindi, marathi and some konkani and my besties speak gujrati and punjabi so if you want any help translating, please please ask!!

9. headcanons

this is a personal addition but pleaseeee i want a fic where the black brothers meet james’s extended family. i want a fic where harry celebrates his first holi. i want james humming bollywood songs and calling regulus "jaan."

you don't need your characters to have a big heavy discussion on colonialism or racism. but including these small things matters very very much.

10. racism

it is extremely likely that james might have faced racism in hogwarts and even in muggle aus.

we experience casual racism and stupid stereotypes which is very annoying. don't base your characters off the ones you see in movies and such. they usually get everything wrong.

resources

to get a hang of the geography some stereotypes baby name website pretty accurate video on the whole of india indian food

thank you for reading this and bearing with my keysmashes and rants. if you have any questions, feel free to shoot a dm or an ask <;33

[mahougirlmutualaid]

EMERGENCY!! Yazid only has two days left to make rent for the orphanage! I’m asking you to come together with us to make this possible!

0/$400

(I want to preface this by saying, it is my fault things have become so dire. Back in October, I begin experiencing intense pains in my spine, neck, and rest of body. This month, it got worse, and I’ve been in pretty much agony physically. It’s the worst pain I’ve been in my entire life. I’ve also been having trouble writing, and with my fine motor skills. My doctors are about 99% sure now that I have multiple sclerosis, but I’m being sent in for a ton of testing next week and some specialists to be sure. 

Because of this, although Yazid has been working very hard, I was struggling to. And so it’s MY fault, not his, that this is so late. Please don’t blame him! He works so so so hard.)

Anyway! Hi, I’m Madison, if you have not seen my posts before! I am a volunteer for God Provides, an orphanage in Buguri, Uganda, that is run by my close friend Yazid @godprovidesministry01 on the principle of making children feel safe, cared about, and to help them gain a sense of hope for the future. Yazid is so good to these kids, and wants to change the way orphans are treated for the better. The orphanage houses, feeds, and educates over 50 orphans, and also helps and takes in struggling families. He and everyone who works at or cares about the orphanage is saving these kids lives.

However, we are in a crisis. The rent is due in only a couple days, and we haven’t made any of it yet. Volunteers have been very busy, and Yazid has been recovering from surgery to his arm, as well as my multiple sclerosis diagnosis, so it’s been extra difficult this month!

The orphanage is also struggling to afford food, and really needs some. I send whatever I can, but I’m relying on food banks myself, and haven’t been able to help much.

So, I am sincerely asking for your help. Please reblog! Anything you can do can change their world. A share to Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter can help spread the word. In any discord group chats? Dropping a link in there can really help me spread this post! Know of any boosting pages? Sending this to them would mean the world! Have time to help me search for donors? Dm me and I'll give you some tips on how! We need all the help we can get. Even just an idea you have of something we could do will help a lot. And donation wise, small donations go a long way!! In UGX, one dollar can buy three meals!

Our cas/happ and ven/mo is savegodprovides

And our pay/pa/l is therealmaxspaceerase@g/mail./com!

I'll also be linking our GoFund/me in the replies. Proof can be found by scrolling back in my blog! But feel free to message me or yazid any time if you'd like proof or have questions. I'll be posting screenshots and receipts of all donations and me sending them to Yazid (with personal info blocked out, don't worry!) so you can be sure they reached him! I want everyone to feel confident and comfortable. I know how many scams there are out there :( I don't blame anyone for suspicion. Keeping cautious is a sign of care!

Okay, thank you, everyone!! I'll be looking for donors now! I'll try to get back to any messages as fast as I can.

[allthingsarmin]

Hello, can i please request an armin x reader but it’s a modern au where armin is a nerd and the reader is popular, feel free to ignore if you don’t like the idea :)

Thank you for your request, anon! I really hope you like it, and I can always rewrite it if it’s not the way you imagined. Also, sorry it is a little long - I think I got carried away with this prompt haha.

The beginning might be a little angsty, but the ending is cute ^_^

GN!Reader

Warnings: one cuss word, mentions of self-doubt, kissing

Word Count: 2,346

-------------------------

Things change - sometimes for the better - like how Armin finally cut his bob-length hair and now has a handsome undercut that suits his jawline and like how you are finally growing taller since it seemed like forever that Armin was the taller one.

Things change - sometimes for the worse - like how you and Armin used to be so close in grade school, but now in college, your relationship is made up of awkward smiles in the hallways, small waves when passing each other in the library, and unfinished conversations on SnapChat.

Things fade - relationships come to an end, people move on, and that’s just life. Look at you now, from a quiet person to a popular student known for your humorous remarks, angelic facial features, a delightful sense of style, and your beautifully color-coded notes. You capture hearts with your smile, and you never fail to make anyone laugh with your stupidly funny puns and nonsense. To put it simply, Armin is a bit different - well, you could say nerdy. Quiet, polite, and has as much passion for the world as he does intelligence. Always heavily invested in school and studying as you could almost always find his nose in between the pages of a book or study guide. Poor Armin - not known for his sweet personality or his above average intelligence. Definitely not known for his sense of style but always comes to class dressed in a rather dashing blazer and keeps a couple Kleenex tissues in his left pocket. Armin barely has any friends, - if any - but he always makes sure to hold the door open for strangers, smile at teachers when entering the classroom, and send you a “Happy Birthday!” text every year.

Some things don’t fade - like Armin’s feelings for you even after you two grew apart and he was forced to watch you from the sidelines. How could he not be so deeply in love with you? When you two were close, you coddled up with each other and read books about the ocean, learning about sharks and so naively believing in the theory of Atlantis. You stayed over at each other’s houses and studied together as well as comforted each other if one of you didn’t do as well as you expected on a test. You used to braid his long blond locks as he told you stories about his grandfather. During the summers, you would use chalk to draw a picture of you two on the blistering sidewalks outside his house, and he would give you handmade bookmarks as a present. Even though you two have grown apart, he is still in love with you, watching you laugh from far away. The way your eyes squint out of happiness and the sound of your hearty laughter makes his body heat up and his cheeks rosy. The way you sometimes send him “Good luck!” texts for when there’s a big test in a class you both are taking makes him smile with teary eyes since it seems that you have in fact not forgotten about him and his intense anxiety when it comes to test-taking. The way you ran up to Armin and gripped his arm when you unexpectedly saw him in the campus coffee shop that one time sent a euphoric tingle throughout his body that made him forget how to breathe properly. How could he not love you when you were always there for him, when you remembered every personal detail he told you during late-night childhood sleepovers, when you tried your best to make him love himself? Armin wants so badly to tell you how important you are to him, how he wants to protect you from everything bad in the world, how he wants to wrap his arms around you and listen to your heartbeat… you are just so hard to reach. He is a nerd, a loser, and you are so popular, surrounded by endless amounts of friends… he’s sure your contacts are completely full and DMs flooding with people who are interested in you and are a lot better than him. What was the point in even trying?

Luckily for Armin, you feel the same way. To be honest with yourself, your stupid jokes, loud laughter, and wide smiles were really just a cover-up for how deeply sad you are. No matter how many friends you have or instant messages you receive from strangers online, you feel incredibly alone because none of them are him. Popularity doesn't matter to you anymore - you just miss your best friend so terribly. You missed walking on the beach together, splashing each other with the salty waves, making study-flashcards together, and being able to touch his beautiful blond hair whenever you wanted. Armin’s birthday is coming up, and you want to make your move and do something big for him that would let him know how special he is to you. This time, it wouldn’t involve loads of friends or a loud party with that overly social and fake personality of yours.

You text Armin: “Hey Armin! We haven’t talked in awhile, but your birthday is this Saturday, and I would like to meet up with you. Are you free to go to the beach on Saturday? I want to give you a present, and I just want to catch up with you. I miss my friend!”

Armin read the text with relief. Even if he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, he still wanted more than anything to reconnect with his old friend. “It’s good to hear from you, y/n! I have no plans for Saturday, so of course we can meet up… around 7pm if that’s okay. I want to watch the sunset! And I miss you too…”

Saturday:

It is November, which means it’s cold. At the beach in November? Even colder, so you make sure to dress warmly.

It is 6:59pm, and you trudge through the moist sand, the harsh wind bearing itself against your face making the tip of your nose turn a bright pink as you grip your hoodie close to your body. In the distance, you see Armin sitting on the sand, shoes off and wearing a dark green sweatshirt with a black beanie. Sitting next to him was his backpack - of course he was the type to bring his school work with him while you always brought your violently vibrating phone with you everywhere.

You release a tired breath as you sit next to him in the sand, setting the bag of presents down beside you and keeping your cold hands in your hoodie pocket. A big smile is on your face as you ask him: “Aren’t you cold, Armin? Why don’t you have your shoes on?!” Armin laughs as he turns his face toward you. At this point, you can see how red his cheeks really are, and this is really the first time you’ve noticed how handsome he actually is. The softness of his blond eyelashes beautifully contrast with the sharpness of his jawline. His smile is soft, and his deep blue eyes pierce into yours. “Hahaha, I don’t know. I just haven’t been to the beach in a long time…” he trails off. “It’s ‘cuz you’re so popular now that you don’t have time to hang out with me,” he states in a playfully butt-hurt tone though you can sense that he is indeed a little upset about it. The waves hitting the shore fill the awkward silence between you two. “I know,” you softly say, “but I think about you all the time. I miss you, and I hope we can be close friends again,” you confess. Armin feels his heart flutter when you say that you miss him. He wants to tell you he loves you and wants to reassure you that he’d always be there for you, but instead he pats you on the back. “It’s okay! I was just joking,” he awkwardly laughs. “Of course we are friends, and I hope we can be even closer too.”

He glances to your side. “What’s in the bag?” he inquires. “Oh!” you exclaim, seemingly as if you forgot about it. You rush to give him the bag and shove it into his arms. “It’s just some stuff I got you for your birthday.”

He rummages through it, going through the endless amount of tissue paper on the top. He pulls out a light blue sweater first.

“It’s almost winter, so I figured I’d give you something warm. I think this color…” you pause and hesitantly reach up to adjust his beautiful blond bangs, “... would look good on you.”

You both make eye contact for a second and quickly look away from each other. “Haha, it’s beautiful, y/n. Thank you!” You are just about to say ‘no problem’ before he is quickly taking off his green sweatshirt and replacing it with the light blue one, his very toned abs peeking through the plain white t-shirt he had on underneath the sweatshirt. You feel your cheeks grow warm and instantly look away. Armin notices and chuckles to himself. He would honestly never mind if you wanted to look at them or even touch them.

“Now, onto the second one,” you say, trying to change the subject. Armin pulls out two matching, homemade bracelets that feature a seashell on both of them. He looks at them silently and intently.

“I made matching bracelets!” you say proudly. “They’re like friendship bracelets, so we both have to wear them all the time! You aren’t allowed to take it off!” you joke.

“They’re so pretty, y/n,” he whispers as he stares at the shells, a sparkle in his eyes. He immediately puts it on and gently takes your wrist to put yours on.

“There,” he says contently, carefully placing your wrist in your lap.

You two sit silently next to each other, shoulders brushing against one another and watching the waves as the sun casts a dull orange and purple glow across the sky. The sounds of waves crashing against the shore and the squawking birds in the sky cancel out the noises of Armin softly crying.

Once you notice, you quickly snap your head around. “Armin, are you okay?” you ask, extremely worried.

“Thank you for the presents, y/n,” he sniffles. “You have always done stuff like this for me,” Armin continues as he gets flashbacks of you two running across the beach and gawking at beautiful seashells, telling jokes to each other in grade school when it was supposed to be reading time, and making funny drawings of each other. “I’ve never told you thank you - for being there for me and comforting me all those times, and just letting me be myself. It’s been such a long time since we’ve done anything together. I miss making you laugh, and I miss going to the library with you and asking you about your day.”

At this point, you feel like crying too because you feel the exact same. You spent so much of your life wanting to fit in, and you finally became popular but at what cost? You nearly forgot about the most important person to you, the one person that actually cares about you.

“I love you,” Armin suddenly blurts out, a tear running down his face. “I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine,” he says so quietly that it’s borderline pathetic. You swear your heart stopped when he said that. You feel a burning sensation all along your body as you forget about the cold air hitting your face, and you feel your breathing stop. The uncertainty you felt that kept you awake every night about whether Armin thought of you the same, all the self-doubt, all the guilt about leaving your friend behind, had been erased in an instant.

The silence between you two is unbearably awkward, and with confidence you seemingly pull out of nowhere, you throw yourself onto Armin’s lips, your arms enclosing his broad shoulders, and both of you falling sideways into the wet sand. Armin, at first shocked, passionately kisses back and links onto your soft lips. The tips of your noses are cold, but you both eventually succumb to each other's warmth. You both pull away to catch some breath. Armin gently wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you bury your head in the crook of his neck. Even after all this time, he still smells the same - vanilla and cedarwood. “I love you too,” you softly say. Noticing that you both are practically wallowing in the sand by now, you apologize. “Also, sorry I ruined your new sweatshirt. There’s sand all over it,” you laugh.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he reassures, shyly placing a kiss on your forehead. “Want to watch the sunset with me?” You nod your head enthusiastically, a smile you couldn’t help leave your lips.

“Oh, fuck,” you quitely exclaim.

“What’s wrong?” Armin asks in a concerned tone.

“I forgot I have an essay due at 11:59 tonight.”

Armin busts out laughing - a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life even though he’s laughing at your poor planning.

“When the sun finally sets, we can go back to my dorm, and I can help you with it if that’s alright with you,” he politely offers.

“Sure!” you happily reply.

You both sit up and face the horizon. The sun was almost gone, and the sky was a heavenly pink color while the sea began to look indigo. Your hands were linked with Armin’s, and for the first time in a long time, you felt warm despite the air getting cooler.

Getting ready to go to Armin’s dorm, he grabs his backpack and his dark green sweatshirt. You get up and check your phone, not at all caring that you have nearly fifty missed text messages and missed calls asking why you didn’t come to the weekly campus party.

You finally have all that you need.

-----------------------

I really hoped you liked it! Requests are open ~ I have another request that will be posted soon.

[obeyme-headcanons]

Now this is something I really want to do in the game. And I'm so dissapointed that we cant. So....I've written it down!! :)

What if MC helped clear ALL of Mammon's debts??

A/N: Much fluff, a G/N MC, and possible TWs.

TW: Much fluff, blood, some cursing, mean witches 😡, some bullying, and a wholesome baby Mammon 💛.

Please enjoy!! :) 💛

Mammon comes into your room all bloody and bruised. He staggers a bit before plopping on your bed next to you.

"M-Mammon...are you okay??" You question. You hear a muffled grunt from your left side.

"Mammon? Who did this to you?" You hear silence. Mammon must not want to answer. You think about who could've done this. His brother's are abusive, but only mentally. No lesser demon would dare mess with the second-born. Hmm. Wait, wasn't Mammon summoned by the witches earlier? It must have been them. They're always attacking him in some way,

"Mammon? Did the witches do this to you," you ask. "Please tell me the truth." The second you finish, Mammon lifts his head to you, and you see tears running down his face. From his reaction, it's safe to say the witches did it.

"Why would the witches do this?"

"It because of my DAMN debt!! I don't know what I did to them...*sniff* I never even met them before they came up and told me I owed them!!"

Poor Mammoney. He didn't deserve this. Every day, he either came back with nothing, bruised and bloodied or so emotional. Mammon kept talking about the witches, and what they'd do to him. He was spiling his heart out.

"And one time...OH!! I can't forget about...then they said..." Mammon kept going. Eventually, he stopped talking, realizing what he'd just said. You getting more furious, you kept thinking if a plan to get Mammoney out of debt. Getting more furious at the witches with each of Mammon's words, you can't think of anything. So you decide to try and make him feel better at least,

You fix Mammon up, get him emotionally stable and watch his favorite movie. He rests his head on your shoulder, and you die inside. How the hell is he so cute?! You slowly take out your D.D.D, set the brightness all the way down, and snap a few pictures. You head over to devilgram, of course stopping by your settings to update your wallpaper, and scroll around. You find a certain demon's page, supposedly the owner of ristorante six, and scroll.

You see a post of the demon stating that they need more workers. The pay seemed pretty good! 10 hours a day for 10k Grimm! Sure, it'd be hard. And painful and annoying. But you already had quite bit of Grimm saved up. About 666k (😈) to be exact. And you'd do anything to see him smile. So you DM the demon and ask for an interview. They accepted and wanted to see you the next day after 2. You smiled and sighed, praying to Lord Diavolo you could get the job.

"Hey, human. Where are ya going?" Of course Mammon had to barge in. Not that you hated it, now just wasn't a good time. All dressed up, you glance around nervously.

"Ahh, I'm just...going..." You couldn't find the words. You had to make up an excuse for this man. "Ahhuumm..."

"Jeez human. Just say you're going out! It's not that hard, ya know?" He sighed. With his hands on his hips, he pauses, and walks out. You're confused, but understand when he comes back with your backpack.

"H-Here you go. Sorry I took it. I was looking for Goldie-"

"It's okay Mammon." You walk over, kiss him on the cheek and walk out the door. His face turns red and he's very glad you walked out. After he's calmed down, he knows something is up. Everytime you go out together, you never dress up. Are you going to see someone? Do you not like him?? His thoughts spiral until he convinces himself that even if you did find someone, at least they made you happy. Not like a scummy, stupid brother would be able to do the job. But hey, he could hope. Right?

"So that's why you want this job..." and you nod. You see them ponder for a moment. "Okay. You're hired!!" You jump. It was unexpected and surprisingly very easy. You thank them over and over again and ask them when you can start.

"Right now if you're up for it! We're short on staff today, so I'm paying whoever works a little more today." You eagerly nod, and you're shown to the staff room. You put on your apron, and get to work. At the end of the day, you get 2k more than you should have. And including the tips you form in total you got 15k Grimm. Not bad for a first day! Exhausted, sweaty and hungry, you walk home with a coworker and head inside.

It's a good thing no one was awake. You make it to your bed and melt. To help pay off his debts and give him a little extra money, you're going to have to work-overtime. Meaning you can't hang out with the brothers anymore. Especially Mammon.

"Sorry Mammon..." You whisper, before falling into sleep.

It's been 5 months since you've started working. Luckily, Mammon had also been trying to pay off his debts. Which has helped you alot, but now you have enough money to help pay Mammon's debts off. But you're tired, and he can wait until morning, right? You slowly walk home and luckily no demons come to pick on you. You thank Lord Diavolo. You slowly open the door so it won't creak.

Luckily no one is awake. Except for Lucifer and Beel. You practically zombie walked into your room because you were so tired. Your about to open your door, but you hear a small sob. You stop in your tracks and listen.

"T-They don't love me. Why would they? I'm just a s-scummy second-born..." it sounded like Mammon. And by what they said, it confirmed your beliefs. And you're pretty sure he was taling about you. You open your door and walk in. Mammon looks up at you in surprise.

"Y-You weren't supposed to be back for another hour." He says while sloppily wiping off his tears.

"Well, they let me go early," You respond. You need to tell him. "Mammon..I have something really good to tell you. I-"

"Save it human. I already know, I don't want any details."

"You do? Mammon, isn't it wondererful?! Now you won't be bullied by your brother's or the witches!"

"If anything, they'll bully me more..."

"W-Why would they continue...?"

"Because they know I love you," he slams his head onto a pillow that oddly looks a lot like you. " And now you're going out with someone. I don't want any details. But...do they treat ya well?" His head pops back up, and you can see the tears in his eyes. His question hurt. Why would he think that?

"Going out with someone? Why would you think th-" you finally connect it all together. Leaving at 2 to get home at 12, if not later. Always dressing up and giving Mammon less and less time and attention to Mammon. It doesn't help that this has been going on for 5 months. And now that you got your last paycheck, you thanked them, quit and wished them well. You were free of that hell.

"Mammon, I'm not seeing anyone." You walk closer to him and rest you're hand on his cheek, and he blushes a little.

"Then why were you gone so much?"

"Silly demon. I was helping you pay off your debts!"

"You what...?" You could see the confusion in his eyes. But you also saw a glimmer of hope.

"That's right. I was gone for 5 months to help you pay of your debts to your brother's and the witches! And...I may have put a little money of Goldie."

"B-But why?" He realized there was no reason to lie about this. His eyes lit up and he perked up. But he was still so very confused.

"Because, I see what they do to you. And you just take it, like a man." He blushes at the word 'man', but gladly takes your compliment. You climb onto your bed, make room for him and pat the side next to you.

"Now come on Mammon. I'm tired, and I need snuggles." He blushes but gladly climbs in. He wraps his body around yours, pretty much pretty much protecting you from anything to come.

"Goodnight Mammon..." You whisper, before falling into the best sleep you've ever had.

The next day, Mammon is more than ready to pay off his debts. He pays off the witches and each of his brothers. You loved the look he had on his face. The witches could no longer attack him and his brother's could no longer verbally abuse his either. At the end of the day, he was excited to find out he had 500k Grimm on his card. He thanked you and pulled you into the biggest hug ever.

"Thank you MC...I feel more safe than I have been in decades." The comment made you sad, but made you smile. No one could hurt him, because you'd be there to protect him.

"I love you Mammoney...💛💛"

"I love you MC..." And you share a tender kiss.

The end~!!

Did you enjoy it? Give me more ideas please! My brain is too smol. Bye my little Grimm!!

💖 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤

[extravalgant]

this might not be the right place to ask because i cant remember if you have a wizard oc yourself but does anyone have any tips for developing a wizard oc? i love my girl and i want to develop her character/backstory, any tips would be appreciated!!

I HAVE PLENTY OF WIZARD OCS ANON dont worry 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 ill try to take you through the process of making mine!!

(which...that reminds me... i should brush up on the template i had to see if i can make something out of it)

— the first thing i try to establish is their primary and secondary school!

i know in canon secondary schools aren't brought up as much or regarded as something that can be utilized outside of what people think you should train for maximum potential (feint, tower shield, etc) but i always like using it as a means to establish their personality!

the question i ask myself is... what is their relationship to magic and how does their primary and secondary school tie into it?

for example - diana is my death wizard who has a secondary in ice, which makes her seem easygoing, patient, and slow to anger.

another is iridian - my ice wizard with a myth secondary. the myth secondary helps me get the point across that she is a thinker, someone who is creative based off the information we've been given in canon.

i think knowing about the schools characteristics and how it can apply to your characters via the schools of magic they choose is a good way to flesh out their personalities :^D

i also think it allows the opportunity to develop them more - and even those who choose to only have one can have their reasons to fall back on it.

— the second thing i try to consider is where in the story do i want to input them in?

with the current world out (lemuria) we have 4 arcs to choose from! i try to separate my characters from my scions (that means these characters are the ones summoned from earth and are present in arcs 1 through 4) and my general characters (characters that can be added into the story in certain places, taken out of the story, or can influence other wizard's stories)

that being said.. don't be afraid to mess around with canon a little bit!! ki doesn't even keep track of their canon right lol . its OUR city now anon

ive seen people have multiple characters travel the spiral, characters go into groups to defeat the villains of arcs 1 through 4, change certain parts of canon to make more sense, add stuff into already established lore just for the hell of it!

the world is your oyster anon... do whatever u please 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

— third thing i try to establish is their style, which i ... tend to fall back on my character design capabilities on lol. i don't use the in-game clothing and tend to design all my wizard ocs clothing to better reflect their styles and personalities!

i do think style is a big part of it though... what they wear, why they wear it, and what it says about them as a person.

i tend to fall back on poofy sleeves with ribbons, or white button downs with a vest to match. i usually take to pinterest to try and gauge what they would wear though...!

(and - take into account the weather for where they are placed in. iridian is stationed in polaris, so while she does wear stuff that is made for a colder climate, she does still want to look cute - that is how you develop them in smaller ways!)

— you can even have them interact with other npcs or canonly established characters! ive seen lots of people draw their characters interacting with ones that have appeared in canon - its a good way to see how your character interacts with others!

and of course... if u ever want your ocs and mine to interact... 😏 my dms are open anon .

ANYWAYS... i hope that helps you anon!! anyone else is free to add onto this post to help them out more <3

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

some scattered thoughts about what i’ve started calling the homecoming au, that au where maedhros and maglor come back to tirion after the war of wrath, end up prisoners-in-all-but-name in finarfin’s palace, and nothing is beautiful and everything hurts. credit for @sunflowersupremes for writing the au that for lack of a better word inspired me, credit to @outofangband for listening to me blather about this over dms, warning to everybody, this au is dark. it’s essentially about maedhros and maglor being abused for being mentally ill, talk of suicide, late stage fëanorians somehow getting worse, generally not a fun time. caveat lector

i feel like it’s worth emphasising that by the end of the war of wrath maedhros and maglor are in a bad, bad mental state

they’re so inured to violence death means nothing to them, and neither of them really remembers what it feels like to be happy. they’ve lost everything, whether to the fires of war or the maw of the oath. there are so many things maglor can’t let himself think about or he’ll tip off the precipice into madness, so many things maedhros has quietly put aside to deal with after the end of the world. they’ve got nothing left but ash and nowhere to go but their own destruction. they’re fully aware of the monsters they are, and they loathe those monsters as much as anyone else

finarfin’s offer of mercy feels like a miracle. it’s a way - it’s a way out, first and foremost, a way to somewhere else, because what could possibly be worse than this? maybe it’s even a way back to the dreamlike world of their childhood, when they were more than their sharp edges and they could look on the future without despair. i figure this is an au where maglor won that last argument, predicated entirely on the possibility of an existence without pain

maedhros is skeptical, but logics himself into going along. on one condition

‘please’ maglor tells their uncle, trying to let his guard down and show as much vulnerability as his pride will allow. ‘do not give us to the valar’

he’s more successful than he realises. the last remaining sons of fëanor have been growing visibly more and more unstable for decades now. even the elves who were once their closest lieutenants approach them with caution now

finarfin catches a glimpse of what his nephews have become. he makes a conscious decision to choose pity over fear

which - yeah, alright. maglor and maedhros need therapy, they need to process their emotions in healthy ways and build selves they can be comfortable in the skins of again. and the general mood in tirion is one of reconciliation. it was the younger generation that went to beleriand, so many people have children they feel like they’ve failed

but if they can un-fail these two, maybe there’s hope. maybe there’s a chance for them to heal

except, well. nobody who stayed in aman - nobody who’s seen cuiviénen, really, beleriand was nasty - can really process just how much healing needs to be done

like. i’ve said this before, but screeching furiously at each other at high volume for multiple hours is a regular thing maedhros and maglor do. they’re the last people in the world either of them is even slightly close to, their relationship is shot through with as much bitter hate as it is steady reliance, and really, who else can they yell at

it’s a maladaptive coping mechanism. their minders recognise this inside five minutes, i’ll give them that much

it’s just. their eventual method of stopping the fight, after trying and failing to talk the brothers down, is to jump them and gag them to stop them making so much noise

partially they were worried it might escalate into a physical fight, which to be fair, these screaming matches occasionally do. but partially they just wanted them to stop

(this is the first really big incident, but things have been subtly, uncomfortably wrong for a while now. there’s this vibe that everything would be so much easier if the brothers just behaved. acted like the nice normal princes they used to be)

(but they can’t. they’re trying (well, maglor is; maedhros is mostly going along out of resignation) but they can’t. and when all the little tensions of this supposed-to-be-happy-ending get too much, they take it out on each other, like they always do. what are they supposed to do, unleash their own corruption onto the innocent valinoreans?)

(as is usual with these shriekfests, it got vicious fast. it was maedhros saying that he should have just killed the both of them back in beleriand that makes their minders decide they have to stop this now)

the whole situation’s a mess. the way the non-exile noldor are thinking, if they can just put all the unpleasantness behind them, things can go back to normal and they can forget any of this ever happened

the valinoreans are trying to help, you understand. it’s just that their definition of ‘help’ involves sweeping everything under the rug so they can all be happy again

and everything the brothers do to remind people of all that makes them... uncomfortable

maedhros and maglor are never left alone. there’s always someone within at least hearing distance, keeping an eye on them. they initially say it’s for the brothers’ own benefit - so there’s always someone nearby in case they need help, like - but the first time maglor gets so frustrated he starts trashing his room he is immediately seized

the valinoreans get very good at stopping the brothers from doing the thing. they are less good at addressing the reasons why the brothers feel the need to do the thing

maglor is by far the angrier of the two. when he has a bad day, everyone around him knows it. he snarks, he glares at people from corners, he refuses to be at all cooperative. even on his good days, his mood never goes far above ‘melancholic’

maedhros, on the other hand, is quiet. he does what people tell him to, mostly. he sits in place and acts the perfect patient and only occasionally tries to kill himself. a poisonous plant picked here, a window’s lock subtly fiddled with there, he’s good at waiting for his minders to lower their guard enough he can take a chance

(neither of them are particularly violent towards the valinoreans to begin with, and their violent tendencies towards themselves, each other, and inanimate objects quickly recede. lashing out like that always, always makes things worse)

sometimes he’ll regress back into behaviours he learned in angband. the first time this happens and the valinoreans figure out what’s going on, he gets a very polite finarfin asking him to please stop equating them with the enemy, finarfin knows they aren’t settling in as well as they might but it’s very offensive to be compared to morgoth

still, they learn. there’s this one incident when maedhros is having a fit, and while all their minders are running about trying to make him stop, maglor, who happens to be in the room, is standing completely still, staring at nothing

one of the minders snaps ‘come on, help! don’t you care about your brother?’

... he does. they’re closer now than they were in beleriand, leaning against each others’ bodies, quietly holding hands. the palace is full of people all the time, but they’re still so isolated from the rest of the world

it’s just hard to protect someone else when you’re barely hanging on yourself

you ever write a perfect closing line, and also it’s 1:30 am? yep, yep, i’m going to bed. more tomorrow, i’d guesstimate three parts in total

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Alone at the Edge of a Universe - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: You were in an accident before everything went to hell. You don't remeber how it all started. Now you live in a small apartment with a strange man who seems to be trying his best to look after you, but doesnt know how to take care of himself.

AKA: oh my god they were roommates.....Despair Edition TM

Word count: 7169 Contains: fem reader, no pronouns usage, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, very mild blood/injury, panic attacks, despair era Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

There’s an explosion outside your window, and something huge tumbles to the ground. Everything in the apartment is shaking, Knick-knacks wobble and fall off the mantle, smashing on the floor, the bed frame shakes and lurches underneath you. Your fingers are digging tight into the quilt, trying to find purchase somewhere in the quake.

It is not your first collapsing building, and you fear it will not be your last. The world outside the apartment is dangerous and frightening, layers upon layers of horror folded together into the culmination of true despair. You don’t remember how it happened. It was some time ago (weeks? Months? Years?) that you woke up in a hospital, weak and emancipated, barely able to walk. You had been in some sort of accident, whatever happened to the world, started while you were still comatose and all the doctors were long gone when you finally came to. The fact that your life support was even still running was a stroke of luck.

There’s another thundering outside, but this one doesn’t make the house shake. Another building? You can't be sure, it was too far away to be of any danger to you so there is no reason to think about it. Instead you pull yourself up from the bed, bringing one foot down on the floor and being absolutely sure that there won't be any aftershocks before standing up properly. There are little broken pieces of glass and china all over the wooden floorboards, you cross the room on your tip-toes, careful to avoid any of the more dangerous looking shards. It is as you feared, your favorite knick-knack had also broken. You drop into a crouch, trying your best to gather the shattered pieces of what had once been a small glass jar full of little keepsakes.

Your housemate (if you could call him that) frequently brings back little presents from his adventures out into the fractured city. But this had been your favorite, a blue jar with a cork stopper, full of buttons, beads, marbles. Any pretty trinkets he could find for you. The shattering of this particular gift hurts something terrible, because you know it took him a very long time to collect it all. You manage to find a sturdier jar that survived the quake (it was once holding three stems of lavender, long since dead) and scoop as many of the shards and trinkets that you can inside. It isn't as pretty, but it will do for now.

He’s been gone for a week now, and you are hoping he will be back today.  

When he first brought you to the apartment, you couldn't even stand. Confused and scared about what had happened to the world during your coma, and having trouble remembering what your life was like before either. The apartment was a mess when he first found it, but there was a bed and clean sheets in a closet, so it was fine. He sat with you for hours, barely moving, just watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness, as the world finally came into focus. At first you were afraid of him, of his dishevelled appearance, trembling limbs and wide watery eyes. He never made any move to touch you, he sat there and would answer questions if you asked them, but otherwise just watched.

Once you were able to move on your own, he started heading outside for longer stretches of time. He used to just leave for a few hours each week to bring you back enough food until his next trip, but now he is often gone for days at a time. You wonder how long it will be before you can go outside with him. He is strange, but given the state of the world outside, you can’t imagine anyone else is faring much better.

You manage to salvage a decent amount of the broken trinkets and either pour them into a vacant jar or the trash and are in the middle of sweeping away any remaining shards when you hear a shaky knock on the door. He has a key, but he always knocks anyway. You let the broom drop to the ground and dash over to the door to let him in.

“Hey…” you say, pulling the door open. His red striped sweater has more holes in it than it did last you saw him, his hair curled and messy, more grey than white. His disheveled appearance means little, you are thrilled to see him, “Welcome home.”

His eyes are desperate as he looks you over, crossing the threshold of the apartment and closing the door behind him, “The quake...are you okay?”

“I stayed in bed the whole time, I’m fine.” You attempt to take his rucksack from him, to help him carry it to the kitchen. He pulls it away from you and carries it on his own, “A bunch of the gifts you brought me fell off the mantle, though. I should have been keeping them somewhere safer, I’m sorry.”

He wheezes, giggling under his breath as he starts pulling food out from the rucksack and onto the bench, “Don’t waste such sweet apologies on me. I can find more gifts if you want them.”

With you standing in the sitting room, and him unloading groceries in the kitchen. In a different time, this may have been domestic. Your heart warms at the thought, “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Trouble?” He doubles over with laughter, the sound is scratchy in his throat, “You could never cause me any trouble.”

He doesn’t look like he belongs in the nice clean apartment. He stands in the middle of the room, all shaking limbs and wheezy breaths, clutching his own arms like it’s the only thing still keeping him together, but you can tell he is trying, he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “you were outside when it happened”

He giggles breathlessly, gnawing on the cuff of his sleeve, “you are worried about me?” His knees shake like they're about to give out and he buzzes with manic energy, “Aha! the extent of your hope, it’s incomparable!”

You suddenly notice a line of blood running down from his forehead, curling down past his eyebrow and over his cheekbone. You rush over to him and take his face in your hands. His skin is pallid and sickly, his lips chapped and bleeding. You push his mess of dirty hair away from his forehead and gasp, “you’re really hurt, why didn't you tell me?”

He doesn’t say anything, he’s just staring at you with wet unblinking eyes as a wide smile tugs at his lips. Shuddering under the soft grip of your hands. The gash on his forehead is shallow, but blood is gushing out of it quite quickly and you aren’t really sure what to do. As you look closer at the wound, his eyes flutter shut and you feel him leaning into your palm. Your heart thunders in your chest, he’s cute under all the dirt and grime.

He cares for you a great deal, you aren't sure why. He won't even tell you his name.

“I’ll wash it out for you. Okay?” You say, taking one of his hands in yours and tugging him towards the bathroom. The one gentle tug on his hand is enough that he almost topples over, but he rights himself quickly. His hand is quivering in yours.

“Oh! You don't need to do that!” he protests, but continues obediently following after you, “I’ve dealt with much worse, aha! Don't bother dirtying your hands to fix something that will only break again.”

You grab him by the shoulders and lower him down onto the toilet seat. His big eyes peer up at you from behind the mass of hair now tumbling down over his face, he watches you with a pointed devotion that might make you uncomfortable if you weren't already used to it. He brings his sleeve up to his mouth to chew on it again, you take his hand in yours and lower it before he gets the chance, “I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry.”

His nails dig into the meat of his thighs and he is shivering again. You can feel his legs bouncing as you lean forward to take a better look at the gash on his forehead, he whines when he feels your fingers brush his hair away from his face. You sigh at him, “You know this will get infected if you don't clean it, don't you?”

He whimpers, practically rattling as his tremors get worse, “How kind of you to notice! But I have more important matters to attend to of course.” another bout of laughter boils through him, shaking his bony shoulders,“like you, for instance!”

You drop to a crouch so you can meet his eyes, resting one hand on his shoulder and holding his hair back with the other, “You can't look after me if you’re dead.”

“Oh I won't die.” He breathes, the depths of his eyes shining with a shocking lucidity, “Not yet.”

He really believes that. You can see it on his face, “Either way. I’m going to clean it. Sit tight.”

Sitting tight is not possible. To his credit, he doesn't move on purpose, but he is still shaking intensely as he waits for you. His protruding knees knocking as his legs bounce up and down. You purse your lips and wet a cloth in the sink, the water is a little brown, but all of the water is a little brown so there isn't much you can do about it.

“Okay.” You say, turning back to him and lifting the cloth to his forehead, “Let me know if it stings too much, alright?”

He nods, smiling up at you pleasantly as you bring the cloth down on the gash. There is a lot of blood, the coppery smell is overwhelming but you try your best to seem like it isn't affecting you. If there is any pain, it doesn't seem to be bothering him, his eyes are closed again and he is leaning gently into your touch. Your heart warms for him, and the hand you are using to hold his hair out of his face starts gently scratching his scalp. You hear him gasp, but he makes no move to stop you. His hair is soft, you can feel the grit of dirt and smoke caught up in it, but under that...he is so soft. The blood running down his face is well clean by now, but you don't stop. The washcloth falls from your hand with a splat and his eyes snap open. One of your hands is buried in his hair, combing the mess through your gentle fingers, the other traces the sharp line of his jaw, all the way up to and then down his cheekbone.

“What are you doing?” He asks, you are dimly aware that his shaking has stopped. At least for now.

Your pointer finger runs up the bridge of his nose and over his right eyebrow, now you are the one shaking, “I...don’t know.”

“You’re touching me.” He breathes

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, “I am.” you let your hand drop, “I’m sorry. I don't know why i did that.”

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his cheek. His eyes are wild, “You can do whatever you want to me! I don't mind!”

His suggestion raises an unwarranted heat to your cheeks. You gently tug your hand from his grasp, “There’s some vodka in the cupboard. Give me a moment to disinfect you.”

You pick the cloth up off the ground and leave it on the side of the sink as you walk over to the kitchen. All of the food he brought back with him is still strewn about on the countertop, abandoned when you realised how badly hurt he was. You worry about him. Constantly. He was the one who found you half crawling, half stumbling through the desolate remains of the city mere hours after you woke up in the crumbling shell of the hospital. Since then he has been so careful of you, making sure you are well fed, bringing you gifts or clothes, anything he can find out there. He clearly doesn't extend the same olive branch to himself. You stand up on your toes to grab the alcohol from the top shelf, it was already here when he first found the apartment. Half empty. You hope whoever lived here before you had enjoyed it.

“This is going to hurt.” You warn as you step back into the bathroom. He nods loosely and you wring the cloth out as best you can before dousing it in the vodka, “Are you ready?”

“Pain or pleasure,” he starts, looking up at you with a loopy smile, “anything I feel by your hand is exhilarating.”

Oh. You liked that . It made something in the pit of your stomach twist.

You clear your throat and crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair out of the way. His eyes are half lidded, and you can tell he is uncomfortably lucid. He intimidates you a little like this, there is a sharp intellect behind his big green eyes that feels like he is dissecting you with his stare alone. Even though he has stilled quite a bit, his hands are still jittering at his sides. You gently press the alcohol soaked rag to the gash in his forehead, he hisses through his smiling teeth, but the sound teeters dangerously close to being a moan. You swallow, continuing your ministrations.

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” You ask, purposely focussing on cleaning his wound so you don't have to meet his eyes.

“No.” He says. It doesn't sound like he’s lying.

“Okay.” You reply, “I trust you, but you can't hide these things from me. I have a duty to keep you safe, too.”

A shudder runs through him at your words and his eyes flutter shut. Like he is savoring it, “You are too generous, truly.” his voice is so breathy, and your positioning makes it sound like he is whispering in your ear. You bite your lip.

“It is not generosity.” You laugh a little, your fingers tangling in his hair again, “It’s selfishness. You are all I have and I don't want to lose you.”

He is shaking again, his long fingers grasping at nothing. Like he desperately wants to hold you but knows he can't . His arms wrap around himself instead, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as he rocks back and forth, “Aha! A regular Pylades you are, looking after trash like me!”

You have long since abandoned any pretense. Not even pretending to be tending to his wound anymore, your fingers brush through his hair unhindered, “Pylades?” you ask, twisting a lock of pale hair around your index finger. Surprised with how much classic literature he’s managed to remember through all this tragedy, this is not the first time he has quoted one such piece to you.

“From Euripides!” he’s grinning now, lips curled almost painfully wide, “You need me to jog your memory, hm?” He asks, leaning forward. He is very close to you now, and your hand freezes in his hair, “Orestes says ‘it’s rotten work’ and Pylades replies-”  

Oh. You do know this one.

“Not to me.” You breathe, heart thumping in your chest and mouth going dry. Your hand slides down from his hair to cup his cheek, you can feel his pulsepoint racing like a hummingbird under your thumb. He is so close now, you can see flecks of gold in his eyes. You can count his eyelashes. You are shaking, “Not if it’s you.”

For a moment, you think you are going to kiss him. For a moment, you want to kiss him. Instead you let your hand drop from his cheek and stand back up, “It’s um...it’s as clean as im going to get it. Might need stitches, but i dont have the means or the skill to do that for you.”

He brings his arms up in a shrug, “No matter. So long as you’re satisfied.”

“This isn't about my satisfaction.” You say, crossing your arms, “You need to take better care of yourself out there. Look, maybe next time i should come with you and-”

He shoots upright, suddenly towering above you, all quivering limbs and sweaty palms, “Nonononono. You have to-” he sucks in a wheezy breath and shakes his head, “-you have to stay in here. For you to be tainted by the world outside, the despair it would-” a breathy laugh escapes his lips, growing and growing in volume, his hands tanging his hair pulling strands out at the roots, “-It would be glorious .” He growls, shaking and panting as he starts hitting himself in the head with his fist and a crescendo of, “nononononononono” is erupting from the cavern of his mouth.

It is frightening, but you are used to it. He gets in these fits sometimes, but has never attempted to hurt you, it’s more like he’s fighting himself. You wrap both your hands around his wrist, holding his arm still so he can’t use it to hit himself anymore before slowly bringing it back down to his side. He is still shaking with a mania that seeps out through every pore, but at least he isn't hurting himself. His mouth runs a mile a minute, arguing with both himself and people you have never met. He talks to them a lot, these other people, you don't want to ask him about them.

“Hey.” you whisper, “I’m here. It’s okay.”

His big eyes turn to you, but he doesn't calm. He is still muttering and shaking, but this is okay. You start slowly rubbing your hands up and down the length of his forearms, “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

He whines and brings one of his sleeves up to his mouth to gnaw on it. You don't stop him, when he gets like this it’s one of his less destructive habits. It's preferable to scratching. You keep rubbing his free arm, your other hand curled around his hip. His eyes are slowly growing less wild, drool is dripping down his chin, “Alright. We’re going to move to the couch. Nice and slow.”

You loop his arm over your shoulders and tuck your other hand into his back pocket, slowly walking him over to the couch. This is the main reason you haven't left the apartment, the door unlocks from the inside so if you really wanted to, you could leave at any time. You’re scared though, both of what is waiting out in the city, and of what will happen to him if he comes back one day to find you gone. He is finally starting to calm when you lower him down onto the couch, still chewing absently on his sleeve, but his breathing has slowed a little. A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you tuck some of his hair behind his ear.

“Why do you worry about me so much?” You ask, more to yourself than to him. Stroking his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, “I am no one to you.”

He is tired now after his episode, his arm is slow and shaky as he reaches out to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist. The warmth of his skin seeps in through your shirt, your heart climbs up into your throat when he squeezes , “You are hope. You are everything to me.” his eyes are half lidded, and his smile is soft, “The corruption, the despair it...haahaa...it tainted us all, but you-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, “-you slept right through it. You’re still hopeful...still perfect…”

“And if I hadn't. What would I be to you then?”

“Dead, most likely.” He sighs and it rattles through his chest, “Is there even a point to talking about what might have been? In my experience it has never helped any.”

He’s right. You hate the idea of a reality where you never meet him. This realisation makes your stomach turn. Familiarity breeds comfort, but when what is familiar is a man who is (under dirt and grime and sweat)  incredibly beautiful, you find that it breeds something else as well. You give the hand on your waist a pat, and he lets you go.

“The sun is setting.” You say, trying to distract yourself from how much you want his hand against you again, “I’m going to light some candles before it gets dark.”

“Oh! Before you do.” He manages to pull himself up from the couch and stumbles over to his rucksack, bending over and rummaging through it some, “I hm...i found something for you.”

You stand in the middle of the room, the last dregs of daylight are casting an orange light over his shaking form. He comes back over to you, holding out his offering, for a moment you're not even sure what it is.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, turning it over in your hands. It’s a polaroid camera, a little banged up but it looks like it will still work, “thank you.” you smile up at him, heart melting to nothing in your chest, “thank you so much.”

He laughs a little, shaking as he passes another two objects over to you, “I only found two film cartridges, but i can look for more!”

“No! This is perfect, I'm amazed you even managed to find two.”

“My luck may not be worth much.” He says with a sad smile, “but if i’m able to bring you some happiness with it, then i'm glad!”

“Here, just...give me a second.” Your hands are shaking as you fumble with the first cartridge, popping open the back of the camera and clicking it in. Before he has a chance to protest (because you know he will) you lift the camera up to your eye and snap a photo. For a moment he is dazzled by the flash, but then immediately starts wheezing.

“Wha....What?” His knees are wobbling again, his eyes are wide and unblinking.

The photo slides out of the camera and you grab it between your index finger and thumb, giving it a light shake, “I took a photo of you.”

“Why would you do that?” He’s laughing, but it sounds more confused than it does manic, “You only have two cartridges of film and you would waste a photo on garbage like me?”

“I don't think it was a waste.” The photo has just about finished developing, the light from the flash doesnt do his already pale skin any favors, but you smile all the same, “Sometimes you’re gone for a long time, and if i can't come with you then...i dunno, it’ll be nice to have.”

“You...miss me?”

You see no reason to lie, “I miss you.”

He is just staring at you now, eyes slowly examining every inch of your face. Your heart is racing. He takes a slow, shaky step towards you, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“I shouldn't.” He says, even as his trembling hand rests on your hip, the pads of his fingers slipping up under your shirt to stroke your skin, “I’m disgusting for even thinking about all that I want to do with you.” His grip on your hip grows tighter, and you feel a warmth in your stomach, “If you knew...eheh...if you could see what i was thinking right now.” his breathing has quickened, and the hand on your hip is trembling. So are your legs, “you’d kick me out of this apartment like the...the...haahhaa...the perverted trash that i am.”

Any thoughts within you about resisting or denying him have long dissipated. You do not even hesitate as you loop an arm behind his head, digging your fingers into the back of his hair, “I wouldn't.”

He doesn't say anything, he’s just looking at you and trembling. A whiny moan escaping his lips.

“The things you want to do to me…” You start, fingers slipping under his striped sweater, just enough to feel his skin, “Show me.”

His hand joins its brother on your hips, and he tugs you towards him. Your lips colliding in a desperate kiss, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. You moan into his open mouth, your fingers tangling even tighter in the mess of hair on the back of his head, he groans when you tug a little harder, slipping one of his hands up the front of your shirt and palming you over your bra. You cling to each other like two lost sailors adrift in the sea, attempting to find purchase in a world long gone. Your kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He is moaning and shaking, his long fingers tightly squeezing your breast as his other arm wraps around your waist and somehow tugs you even closer. He is so thin, pressed up against him like this you can feel his bones shifting under his skin. You bite his neck so hard you taste copper on your tongue and a moan explodes from his lips.

“Yes... yes! ” He stammers, drooling and shaking. His mouth pulled in such a wide smile that his lips tear and bleed, “hurt me...hng-hahAHA... destroy me !”

Your hands become frantic, grabbing his jacket and tugging it down his arms. His sweatshirt soon follows, ripped up over his head with a tenacity you didn't even know you had. You want to feel his skin, to suck, to bite, to bury your nails in it. Desperation is building inside you, almost ready to overflow. His skin is salty with sweat when you run your tongue over the length of his collarbone, fingers on your left hand running over each jutting rib as you slip your hand down to grasp his hip. The bone is sharp under the soft skin of your palm. Despite all his sweating and panting, his flesh is still cold under your hand, you want to warm him up. You tug your own shirt up over your head, chucking it behind you and unclasping your bra.

A wheezing laugh escapes him, he pushes his hair away from his face but it immediately falls back down again, “You...you’re…” his breath hitches, his pointer finger traces the underside of breast, shaky and cold, “you’re so soft...so warm .” he moans, licking his lips, “my goddess...would you permit me to pleasure you with my mouth?” he purrs. His eyes are swirling with arousal, his hand creeping up to massage your breast in his palm. It feels so good, he feels so good. He looks at you with this endless devotion, like you are something precious to be protected and loved .

“My guardian angel.” you whisper, tucking a wisp of hair behind his ear, “Whatever you want to do to me. Do it.”

His ghostly green eyes are blown wide, and he is wheezing again, “You just...what did you just call me?”

“I would have died out there on my own. You know that right?” You say, leaning in close enough that the tips of your breasts brush against his bare chest and cupping his cheek in your palm, “You saved my life. You are my guardian angel.”

“You are too kind to me, truly.” He whispers, his cold hands moving to your shoulders as he guides you backwards, “I am little more than garbage after all.” the back of your knees hit the couch and you collapse onto it, “Just a bug under the heel of an ultimate’s shoe...but you...hm…” he drops to his knees in front of you, his grin is all sharp teeth and drool. Some people might have been afraid of him, you thought he was the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen, “you deserve to be worshipped .” he breathes against your skin, leaning in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. His mouth is warm and wet, you throw your head back in a wail, digging your fingers into the mess of hair on his head.

His hand slides up the side of your ribcage, thumb rubbing small practiced circles around your other nipple. A needy moan escapes your lips, and your legs drop open almost instinctively. He scrambles forward to nestle himself between them, the sharp angles of his torso dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and his free arm wraps around your waist to tug to two of you even closer together. A strangled cry rips through you as the bare skin of his chest presses firmly against your sex, hips bucking against him almost involentarily, overcome with a desire to just feel him . He laughs against your breast, sinking his teeth into your flesh as his tongue continues lathing across your pert nipple.

“Mm...you’re so soft…” He whispers, resting his cheek on the plump skin of your breast, “your skin is so smooth…” His other hand is still toying with your nipple, rolling it in between the calloused pads of his thumb and forefinger, “haaAAH...I’m so lucky. You permitting scum like me to pleasure you? Your kindness is...hm, how could I put it?” his tongue darts out to give your nipple a lick, you shiver, “It is inexorable ”

“Wrong again.”, You laugh breathily, carting your fingers through his unruly hair, “This is no kindness. This is desire, unflinching. I want you so badly, selfishly .”

A raspy giggle escapes him, shaking his shoulders as he pulls his arms from you to wrap them around himself instead, “Someone like you getting so riled up over someone like me...eheh…” His hands are shaking when he brings them back down to your waist, gripping the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, “The ideas I have - the things I want to do with my fingers,” he starts pulling your pants down. You lift yourself up a little to help him pull them over your hips, warmth blooming in your cheeks, he moans at the mere sight of your panties, “f-fuck…” he whines, all drool and sweat, “i want to finger you until i die . Oh... oh god… ” he’s kneeling lower down now, you can feel him shaking between your thighs, “you smell so good...i want to eat you until there's nothing left. Like you’re my last meal…” his hands come up and grip your thighs tight, he leans in closer to your center and you can barely hold in a moan when you feel his nose bump against the wet spot on your panties. You don't hold in the moan when you feel his tongue. You aren't sure you could if you tried, it tears out of you, the one swipe of his tongue over your soaked panties is like a bolt of lightning to your cunt.

He continues like this for a while, moaning and shaking as he drags his tongue up and down your panties. Occassionally suckling your clit through the fabric. His bony fingers dig so tight in the soft flesh of your thighs that you swear you’ll have bruises tomorrow morning. After one particularly brutal suck, all you can do is sob, pulling his hair so tight that his lips are torn away from your centre.

“Something wrong?” He asks, playing innocent, but the look in his eye is cool and intelligent.

You heave a shaky breath, staring down at him, “Take them off. Please! ”

You swear you see his hips twitch at your demand. Eyes glazing over and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he hooks his fingers through the legs of your panties and tugs them down, leaving them to dangle off your left ankle. A whimper escapes you at the feeling of his breath against your wetness, his hands are hovering above you, shaking in the air like he isn't sure what to do with them. He wants to touch everything, he just can't decide where to start.

In the end, his left hand comes to rest at your hip, while his right middle and ring fingers push their way inside you. Your head lolls backward and your mouth drops open with a long moan at the feeling. His fingers are longer than yours are. A lot longer.

“I can feel you... twitching around me.” he makes a strangled noise, half a laugh, half a moan and pistons his fingers slowly in and out of you. The sound it makes is obscene , but it seems to only encourage him further. He leans in, and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently and occasionally flicking it with his tongue. Your hips buck reflexively, trying to get closer to his mouth.

“Ahh - ah! You taste so sweet...” he whispers against you, his breath cold on your burning flesh, “I - mmph...i feel like adam biting the apple...or persephone swallowing the pomegranate seeds...haah…” he removes his fingers, and his tongue slips inside you, swirling around before he returns his attention to your clit, “But which do you think it will be, hm? Will i be forced to leave you, or will i be bound to you for all eternity?” his eyes meet yours, boiling with passion and desire. He looks godlike between your thighs, grinning up at you with sharp teeth and the sheen of your own slick all over his chin. All you can do is shake and moan, quivering for want of him, “Care to try your luck answering the million dollar question, my goddess?”

“Never leave me…” you say, chest heaving. You reach down and cup his face in your hand, “I will never ask you to leave me.”

“Never?” he asks, his smile growing manic and his nails digging into your thighs. You hiss at the pain, “A dangerous promise.” His tongue enters you again and he moans sinfully against your skin, slowly thrusting the wet muscle in and out of you. His hands slip down under you and he lifts you up by you ass, pulling your sex even closer to his face. You whimper and moan and grind against him. Fingers tangled in the mess of his hair as he tongue fucks you into oblivion.

He’s whining and groaning, devouring you like a man starved, and when you feel the couch lurch, you realise he is also desperately grinding his cock into the front of it. You tug on his hair again, weaker than last time as the wobbly feeling of pleasure has overtaken you. He slowly draws back from your sex, licking his lips and staring up at you with his intimidating eyes, “Mm?”

A shaky breath rattles through your lungs and you lean forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, “I want you inside of me. Would that be okay?”

“I was already inside you.” He says, smirking and sticking out his tongue as a reminder.

“You know what i mean.” Your eyes flit down to the tent in his jeans, making what you really want even more obvious than it already is.

“You spoil me.” He breathes, pressing a wet kiss to your jawline, “You couldn’t possibly know how desperately I want to sink myself inside you...but I- haaahh ...I am not worthy of such an intimate act.” His fingers reach out, and slowly begin circling your clit, you choke on a moan, “I am more than happy to pleasure you like this...no need to worry about my satisfaction.”

“But I want to see you come undone.” You hiss as his index finger circles you entrance, “I want you on top of me, inside of me. I-“ his finger pushes inside and your breath catches, “-I want you to fuck me. Please .”

A giggle bursts from his lips that quickly grows into a cackle. His shoulders shaking with its intensity, a line of drool dripping down his chin, he throws his arms wide and shoots you a manic grin. All teeth and gums, “If that is what you truly desire, then it would be pointless to deny you any further!” He clambors up from the floor, stumbling a little as he struggles to remove his jeans, “After all, I want you as well.” He purrs, his jeans and boxers dropping to the floor, “More than that…” he breathes, lowering you by your shoulders until you are lying back on the couch and nestling himself in between your open legs. Your heart is racing, he is hovering over you now. His lips barely a breath from yours, and the head of his cock brushing against your sex. He groans, “My goddess, I hunger for you.”

He hisses a breath in through his teeth as he starts pushing himself into you. Hips shaking as he resists the urge to shove himself in with one long stroke, his eyes roll back into his head and he moans. The feeling of him slowly entering you, combined with watching the strangled ecstasy on his face, it’s the most aroused you’ve ever been. You can feel yourself clenching around him, your own hips quivering as he finally bottoms out inside of you with a raspy groan, “So wet…” he hisses, “You feel so good around me…” he slips one of his hands down between the both of you, rubbing gentle circles around you clit. You keen loudly at the feeling and his hips stutter into yours, “Y-you like that, huh? I felt you tighten around me…”

You nod loosely, struggling to speak through your moans, “Please...move…”

He visibly shudders at your request, slowly inching his hips backward, and then forward again at full force. A moan that shifts to laugh halfway through escapes his lips, and he finally sets his rhythm. His hips snap against yours with a desperate fervor, he whines and mewls above you, his hair bouncing delicately with the movement. Eyes half lidded and drool slowly dripping down his chin. You look up at him in absolute awe, he looks and sounds like an angel . Covered in grime, twisted and tangled, but an angel all the same. His fingers return to your clit and you moan again, digging your nails into the skin of his back, tracing the protruding vertebrae with your fingertips.

A particularly deep thrust causes a choked sob to break forth from his lips, his head lolls forward and he nuzzles into the join between your shoulder and neck, “You’re perfect .” he breathes, hips still pumping, “I’m throbbing...can you feel it? Can you feel what you are doing to me?”

You can . You can feel the warmth of his cock pulsing inside of you. His arms are trembling and his breath is a rapid staccato, he’s trying to maintain his composure, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He breath hitches when you call him sweetheart .

“You are so kind to me…” He wheezes, his breath warm against the column of your throat. You shiver, a strangled moan escaping you as his dexterous fingers circle your clit even faster. Your thighs tighten around his narrow waist, hips grinding against the meat of his palm and deeper onto his cock. All you can do is shake and moan, the muscles in your stomach tight and only growing tighter. He looks at your face, visibly euphoric, “are you close?”

You nod and he drags his tongue up the shell of your ear, “Jeez...I can’t believe trash like me is going to make you cum.” His eyes are wide when they meet yours, lips pulled tight in a grin, “You’re going to cum for me!” His hips move against yours at a frantic pace, his hands groping any part of you he can reach, a laugh in his chest building to a crescendo as he hits deeper and deeper inside of you, “You’re going to cum around me and I’m going to feel it...I-haaaaHAAAAA-“ he can’t speak any more, he’s laughing and moaning and fucking into you with an unbridled desperation.

“You need to...cum...Ah~ I want you to cum too…” you swallow, words catching in your throat when his fingers start working your clit again, “Cum inside me, angel. Please .”

“In-Inside?” He stutters, breath heaving and teeth clenched as he grows closer and closer to climax, “You would permit me to soil your insides with my filthy seed?”

“I don’t just permit you. I’m begging you! ” Your hips are canting up to meet his, wanting to feel him as deep inside you as possible. Drawing yourself tantalisingly close to orgasm, “I want to see you, to feel you. Come undone for me, please.”

His breath hitches, and his eyes grow dark. His fingers begin circling your clit at a brutal pace, his mouth collides with yours in a desperate kiss, all tongue and clicking teeth. You moan loudly into his open mouth, legs twitching underneath his frantic ministrations. His fingers on your clit, his cock pumping in and out of you, his tongue tangled with yours. The heat in the pit of your stomach is boiling, your breath is coming in gasps. It feels so good.

“You’re mine.” He whispers against your lips, and you swear you hear a sob catching in his throat, “accept me, please. Cum for me, my love.”

With those words, he kisses you firmly, thrusting deep and slow inside of you, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps as you cum with a strangled moan. Dragging your nails down his spine and curling your toes, warmth settles through your entire body and it feels like a perfect finality. He whines against your lips, grinding and writhing as you walls clench around him, then his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open in the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard, and he cums .

His face softens in that moment, and for just a second, he looks normal. Like someone you might pass on the street or sit next to in class. You see him , and your heart turns to butter. You love him. Slowly, the speed of his thrusts peter out and he heaves a breath, eyes half lidded, giving you satisfied (albeit sleepy) smile. You return it, brushing your fingers down his cheekbone.

“Thank you.” He whispers, eyes moist with what will soon be tears.

You curl your hand around the back of his head and tug his forehead down to your lips. His skin tastes like sweat, “No. Thank you .”

*

He leaves the next morning. Unlike all the other times before, he never comes back.

[twigg96]

Hello my lovlies! Some Updates for Everyone!

Hey so I have a few announcements for you all on this blog I'd like to share.

So many of you may have noticed that I have turned on the tipping option here on my blog. It has been something I have been debating on turning on here or not. I would like to make it very clear that as much as I would apricate tips, I don't want anyone to feel that they have to. I recently quit my job and am looking for a new one I am only going to have this option on for the brief period of time I hope it takes to find a new job. I would also appritiate that if you would like to tip that you do so using the link at the top of my blog instead of on any of my posts. I know that reposts don't allow tipping but I would not like to be tipped for any of my fanfiction or my HCs. Those are free works I do for fun for anyone who asks. I would A. Never ask for money for someone else's property. B. Never ask for money for something I have loved doing for free in the past. So please feel free to continue sending in HC requests as nothing has changed.

Speaking of fanfiction I have to once again apologize for the delay on my newest Metalocalypse fanfic. I have been through hell in the last few weeks and honestly just needed this time to recover and figure things out. Fortunately I have and I am very excited to say that I will be publishing the first Chapter to Deep Purple tomorrow evening, a fic centering around the creation of and tragedy of Mr. Salacia. I am very excited to be posting this to AO3 as I have been working on the plot for months trying to perfect it.

As a celebration and a breather from my work I am going to be taking 3 Fanfiction Requests from you all. I'm only offering 3 slots so please DM me for more information about this if you are interested.

I have also been dedicating some time to starting a new side blog that I have recently revealed on here in one one my sunflower rants with @thatwritingho. @mental-harmony Is a blog dedicated specifically to teaching and reinforcing positive mental health. I am using some of the skills I learned over the years in my own therapy sessions to teach others who may not be able to afford therapy or who may not have access to a therapist. Let me be clear I am not a licensed psychologist nor a therapist myself I am simply a person who has struggled in the past with my mental health and knows how hard it can be to figure out what actually works and what doesn't for me personally. I have suggestions and asks open over on that blog as well if anyone has any mental health suggestions or they have anything to add that maybe I didn't immediately think of myself. My philosophy in life is that two minds are always better than one.

That's all I have for right now I love you all!

[yumgrapejuice]

Hello there! I recently found your fic A is for accidental dimensional travel on ao3 and would first like to say good job! I am thoroughly enjoying the story so far. As an amateur writer, I wanted to ask if you have any writing tips?

First, I’m really happy to hear you’re enjoying it, thank you!! And second, of course!!!:D That’s very flattering haha, and it’s something I can talk about for hours, though I’ll try to keep it condensed:’D I’m an amateur writer myself, of course, but, hey, I think every writer has something valuable to offer in terms of advice, and I have been pretty obsessed over the topic for years I guess lol.

I will say, though, that writing is like any other skill, and certain advice fits certain levels (I’ve had someone come to me about writing tips who didn’t have a grasp on the most basic concepts, so I told them different things from what I’d tell someone who’s actually been writing for a while). I don’t know what level you’re at, anon, so I’ll try to keep it to tips that I personally use whenever I’m writing, just a few quick things:D However!! You can always directly dm me and I’d be more than happy to offer more personalized/specific advice if that’s something you’d like:))

(I’d also like to mention that, to me, fanfiction writing is different from original writing. In fanfics, I usually go with the first draft of any chapter and I focus more on the Fun stuff, whereas with original stuff I’d have multiple drafts and be more careful. I just don’t have the time nor the need to perfect my fics if I like them enough as is, and I don't expect anyone else to perfect them, either. But, hey, that’s just me)

(Also, also, don’t look at me for grammar lmao sorry)

Putting the rest under the cut!:D

Dialogue is my favorite part of writing, so I’d like to share a few things I keep in mind whenever I’m constructing it.

First, unless a character is monologuing, I try to keep each person’s lines to no more than 3-4 sentences at a time. That way the dialogue flows more naturally and feels like people are actually talking.

Second, people are rarely graceful with their words, especially if they’re flustered for any reason. Cutting off sentences is a good way to show that, but don’t overdo it, either. That goes for stuttering, too. A couple of cuts or stutters is more than enough. I tend to break this "rule" when someone is really struggling, but that's only on special occasions.

Third, not every line needs a dialogue tag!! You need to evaluate what’s actually important. If you’re using a dialogue tag, you’re drawing attention to it. Why? Is it unclear who’s speaking? Are they performing some action that adds to/reinforces/conflicts with what’s being said? Is it funny? If there isn’t a good reason, you can just leave it without a tag. (Also, dialogue without tags flows much quicker, so that’s something to keep in mind. That's good for a quippy exchange.)

Fourth, I try to always progress some aspect of the story with every line. Usually, that can be plot progression or character progression. They can chatter about their day, the weather, work, sure, but it needs to progress something. Maybe it’s used to showcase the tense/awkward atmosphere. Maybe they learn information that’ll be useful later. Maybe it’s a way to show personality. Just, have it have a purpose.

And last, ‘said’ is not dead. Our eyes when reading barely register the word, so if you don’t wanna draw attention to how something is being said, use… ‘said’ lol.

A few more general things:

I don’t switch POVs often, but when I do, I try to make each POV have its distinct voice, which is something you hear a lot about in writing classes and such. People far more advanced than me can explain it much better, but the way I go about it is similar to dialogue. Different people use different phrases, some go on long tangents, some introspect a lot, some would rather die than think for a second about what they’re feeling (doesn’t mean you shouldn’t describe their emotional responses; just that some may draw more attention to them and linger longer). Switching between more formal styles to looser and rambly is also an easy and quick way to distinguish different narrators.

If you focus a lot on a certain detail, that detail needs to be important. Listen, I didn't spend multiple paragraphs on Dream fawning over an ender chest for that to be trivial in the future lol. The more attention you draw to something, you more weight you put on it. I really recommend that you bring it back eventually.

What’s the worst that can happen? Make it happen, and make it worse lol.

Your readers aren’t stupid, don’t spoon-feed them information. They’re smart cookies, leave some clues and they’ll figure it out. Hopefully. Use your judgement lol. But that goes for descriptions, too. Help them paint the scene, don’t actually paint it for them. Use different senses to describe something, such as smell, touch, sound. Once again, draw attention only to what’s actually important. (I’ve really enjoyed the way descriptions were done in Path of Golden Green)

If you want a line to have a lot of weight, put it in a separate paragraph. That’s probably obvious, but good to have it in mind haha.

Decide what atmosphere you want your story to have. If you’re going for a lighter one, don’t focus too much on serious, dark things. Likewise, tragedies and comedy don’t mix well unless it’s a tragicomedy lol, but that’s a whole other thing. I usually like going for a nice middle, sometimes leaning more towards light stuff. It’s why in A is for Accidental I didn’t dwell too much on the possible effects the prison could have had on mh!Dream because I wanted to keep that storyline relatively light (at least, compared to dsmp!Dream’s storyline lol). Possible trauma just. wasn’t the point here lmao. I just slap on a “eh, not his first rodeo” and I’m done haha. Not everything needs to be heavy angst and not everything needs to be all funny and fluffy. Find what balance you wanna have. Basically, it’s usually not a good idea to betray your readers lol.

This is more of a pet peeve but I really dislike head-hopping lol. It's basically when one paragraph is from one character's POV, the next one is from another's. I guess there's the third-person omniscient POV where that can fly, I suppose, but I'm more of a third-person limited kind of person lol. If that's the POV you're going with, decide on your POV character and stick to it (until the change in POV, at least), pretty please <3

This is very unorganized but each aspect of writing has so much that could be said about it that I thought I should stop here lol. If there’s anything specific you’d like me to talk about or to elaborate on something, please, feel free to ask; again, I’d be more than happy to ramble more about writing lol. I could go on forever, honestly:’D