#im not that good at writing lol

[thatlilgremlin]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Baby Face :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

➤ Warnings: Fluff

Now Lucius remembered why he hated Dumbledore so much.

It has been days since he locked himself in his office because of the incompetence of the current Headmaster, a killer was on the loose inside the school and the old git refused to shut it down. Now he had to write many letters to the other governors to figure out what to do, he was on his best behaviour after last year's outburst. If his dear husband didn't apologize for him — Salazar forbid a Malfoy would ever apologize to anyone he didn’t think highly off — he wouldn't be a school governor today; not that it would've mattered, he was as wealthy as purebloods come,  the job was barely to not lounge in his manor all day long, otherwise boredom would've killed him before he was of age. 

He signed his last letter and stretched with loud creaking sounds from his tired limbs, he felt exhausted and needed some comfort; he walked over to his bedroom and found his lover's sleeping form was on the bed, already under the covers, he joined him gladly, scooping him in his arms for a cuddle. He finally fell asleep, his nose nestled in the raven greasy mess that was his love's hair, taking a deep breath of his lovely smokey scent.

The first rays of sunshine woke him up, the first thing he noticed was that his husband wasn't in his arms anymore; he opened his eyes, taking a minute for them to get used to the brightness before shifting to his side, he was welcomed with his love's gorgeous face but with an expression on it that he didn’t really appreciate. The man's bushy eyebrows were furrowed into a scowl; only his dear one could be angry first thing in the morning.

“What did I do to warrant such an expression?” Lucius asked softly, sitting up and stretching once again, his darling kept his eyes on his face.

“How did you get that on your face?” He asked back, squinting his eyes slightly.

“What?” He touched his face, then looked at his hand, there was nothing.

“The beard”

Lucius looked at him then smiled, though still a bit confused, “What about it?”

“How?”

“How what?”  He asked, chuckling, his lover's sulky expression was just too cute.

“How do you have a beard?” He clarified, his expression slightly relaxing at the soft grey eyes.

“I've been working a lot lately as you know with the.. Black situation”, he said carefully, seeing the man stiffen at the name “I simply forgot to shave and here is the result” 

Lucius gently put his hand on the man’s waist  and pulled him closer against him for a cuddle

“It's not fair”, the man exclaimed quite suddenly in a whiny tone.

“What's not fair?” 

“I can't grow a beard whatever I try while you grew one overnight!”

Lucius smiled, caressing the other man's cheek affectionately, watching his expression weaver for a second. He placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and gently gripped his waist tighter.

“You're just baby faced, Sevy, it’s normal”, he said gently, “No need to get jealous of my facial hair, I think you look perfect the way you are, you’re already the most handsome man I’ve ever seen”

“Mmh”, Severus simply answered, bringing his hand to the man’s face to touch the blonde start of a beard, “Why do you never let it grow?”

He thought about it, “I think it’s just that I don’t want to trim it and such, you know how much care I put into my appearance and how much care body hair need”

“I see. I think you look great on you either way”, he said as a blush crept onto his cheeks.

“Thank you, darling”, he then put a small kiss on his lips and caressed the blush away.

[inkskinned]

i wrote an interactive poem for my girlfriend in 3 parts. she said you need to read it.

go here: take only the final quiz or take all 3. i don't mind. it's sad, though. this is a poem about choice. about fate and mental illness and how love fits inside of all of it. this is a poem about a long dark hallway. mostly this is a poem about mango sushi rolls.

good luck. i love you. despite it all, i'm hopeful.

[sweetieviktor]

viktor is in love! (headcanons)

summary: how he acts when he loves someone.

content warning: just fluff!! also, this was written with season 1! viktor in mind!

author notes: life has been hard (exams, school stuff, looking for a job and a lot of other things lol), but now im finally able to write again!! :) and season 2 is just arrrgh so good, so good. also, thank u for the request! i really want to write more about vik (and any other arcane characters), so please keep sending those in!!

» at first, viktor would be pretty oblivious about his feelings for you, always ignoring the little tingling in his heart whenever you talked to him, the smile that appeared on his face every time you laughed or the way he seemed to be draw closer and closer to you, like if you were magnetic.

» whenever you talked to him, he would look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the whole world, like every word you said was sacred, like you were the most beautiful thing he laid his eyes on. and you could swear it was possible to see hearts on those eyes.

» if you happen to work close to piltover’s academy, he will find himself going out more, looking for you in every corner on the streets. but if you work on the academy, he will go to your workplace quite often to brainstorm or just to talk about some subject he is working on.

» and when you happen to talk about the things you like, be prepared to either face viktor staring at you, completely silent, or to be bombarded with viktor questions, trying to learn more about whatever you're interested in.

» after your meet-ups, he always come back to the lab and talk to jayce about you, about the things you like, how you're amazing and beautiful and understanding and pretty and intelligent and so, so many good things.

» maybe he is in love...

[lightnersdream]

i've been thinking about exactly why people portraying one of the other crew members successfully killing Jimmy as a "for what you did to Anya" kind of thing rubs me the wrong way a bit and it's because like..... this is just another form of taking agency away from Anya, in a way. it's kind of framing her as some meek, shivery woman-thing who's entirely at the mercy of the men around her, either to hurt her or save her.

(i understand these are mostly for wish fulfillment on the audience's behalf because everyone would like to see Jimmy pay for his crimes. whether or not this is the intention of the person writing it isn't really relevant, characterization happens with or without intent. i feel like it misses the point by portraying it as an 'ideal ending'.)

because... Anya is a capable person. she takes things into her own hands when she can. it was partially(?) her idea to get into the cargo,

(before he interrupts her.. remember when she interrupted Curly in the dead pixel segment?)

it was her idea to get the code scanner from the cockpit,

it was her idea to get the medication from behind the foam.

(the chance to do these things herself is not given to her.)

she'd been keeping Curly alive for months in a critical state somehow, her psych evaluations at the start are only so useless because Jimmy refuses to take it/her seriously and Curly is obviously biased when he puts it into his own hands. he's known him a long time, like he said. "I'll just put good for that one."

there's not a lot of material to work with because of how the game is framed, but it's there. we are working with two very biased perspectives and neither one lends Anya what she deserves

there's significant changes in how she speaks post- and pre- crash, and depending on who she happens to be talking to. i recommend re-reading her dialogue, because the difference is drastic

she acts the way she does around Jimmy because he has tangibly done horrible things to her, is actively hostile, and physically could not escape him by any means. she can't take away Curly's agency herself, in my eyes. you have to remember that Especially in the post-crash segments of the game, it's entirely from Jimmy's POV, and he obviously does not (and has never) thought very highly of her or treated her with a shred of respect

i've seen a general idea that she can't bear to hurt other people for any reason, but that doesn't really track to me. this is the real point of the post by the way

it seems based on the parts where she says she struggles to give Curly medication. "It just hurts him so much, I can't stand the noise." "It makes me nauseous."

it's not really the same thing as, say, hurting someone in self defense

this sounds like she did want the gun itself. this never felt worded like someone who would refuse to, at very least, threaten Jimmy with a gun, with violence. if she had been given the agency to make that decision on her own. she wasn't though

she still tries to reclaim some of it even as she's denied it

by the end she's still trying to keep that gun out of his hands

i think some people overly soften her, for similar reasons the game itself is trying to comment on. she's not a tender victim who couldn't cause pain to another out of the softness of her soul, she's a person who's had every last bit of agency ripped from her repeatedly until she couldn't take it anymore. that's the point. that's why framing her that way, "needing" someone to save her, is odd to me

she didn't need Curly to save her, she needed him to take responsibility

she didn't want to escalate things, but she's not an idiot. self defense was absolutely on her mind

but who knows im just saying shit *smiles serenely*

[choccy-milky]

the place me and my roommate were supposed to move into today was so disgusting and uninhabitable we just took our stuff and left and now we're gonna be staying at airbnbs and hotels until further notice/until we can find a new place hopefully quickly...........im in my homeless drifter era y'all!!!😍😍so if im not as active then thats why LMFAO

1 like = 1 prayer

[bacchuschucklefuck]

gukgak specifically from my typing (man w/ three jobs & a creeping sense of dread)

[kirkwallguy]

extremely funny coming from writers whose characters return and play major roles in more than one game. yeah sorry guys we couldnt do anything interesting with the game because we had to protect our fans from the conflict we would write if we did <3

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[fatedroses]

I offer the frankly hilarious scenario of zenos and estinien having to work together (probably because of tataru) and a little bit of headcanon-ing I have in regards to the one main issue they run in to when theyre a duo.

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[lovesickeros]

now that natlan is out it's tsaritsa yearning hours again because i am one nation closer to either being horribly disappointed or foaming at the mouth!

creator!reader w a little side of conflicted tsaritsa is such good food I can't not yap about it. a woman who has dedicated so much of her life to severing herself from "love" of all kinds and succeeding and. just being so confident that when she meets you she's bitter and angry and mean. because she can't stand you. she isn't supposed to love yet you worm your way into her heart anyway and you don't even know it.

especially in smth like an imposter au. she tells herself your just a tool for her to use but your treated like the Divine you really are, pampered and spoiled every step. tells herself it means nothing when she indulges you �� let's you hold her hand in private, eventually let's you move aside the veil, just a little.

and she hates it. hates how easy it is to let you break down the ice she's built up for years.

all you do is smile and she feels like she can't breathe. because despite how violently she rejects love in all aspects, it always bleeds through eventually. she despises it but the way you brush your thumbs over her cheeks makes her bitter and warm and it infuriates her to no end.

she hates you and she loves you and she can't stand you and if you were ever taken from her she'd destroy every inch of teyvat if she had to go get you back.

and ironically enough I think she'd also be the one to initiate any first kiss. maybe she's still trying to convince herself it's just a fluke and itll make her realize it meant nothing, it means nothing. desperate to fix whatever you've done to her and instead it just makes it worse.

a horrible mess of a woman who gave up on love just to be confronted with it when she finally accepted it's absence.

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[mintypsii]

guys i love them i promise i just have the urge to put them through the grinder sometimes

umm on the bright side here's the alternate good ending version lol!!!!!

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 10

Masterpost

The thing is, Tim has a few more resources than the average person. And maybe it's cheating, but the names in the first video aren't exactly the most unique, and when he and Bernard google them, they get a lot of results, and nothing very obvious. Which means that Tim spends most of the night laying next to Bernard, staring at the ceiling as his brain spins in some extremely fruitless circles. And by morning he is unquestionably exhausted and annoyed. Bernard is as kind and empathetic as he ever is, and the moment he realizes Tim's insomnia had gotten the better of him, he goes about making Tim an absolutely delicious breakfast. And then Tim has to go to work, and deal with idiot business people who think nothing of tactics that would harm thousands of their own employees.

Being an absolute pinnacle of restraint, Tim does not throw a chair at the department head who tries to subtly suggest cutting down his department's bonuses to increase his own, and he goes through dozens of emails, but by the time it's late enough to get away with leaving for the day, Tim is feeling exceptionally irritated. So, maybe it's cheating, but it's not like anyone has to know. After all, he can always work backwards once he has the connection, and present Bernard with a more appropriate methodology. So around mid-afternoon, he heads to the batcave and plugs some parameters in, so it can cross-reference the results for him.

What he gets is interesting, to say the least. The program flags a handful of different individuals and documents, but among them is an article from the Gotham Gazette about a motorcycle accident. Listed as victims are two teens, named Katherine Taylor and Jonathan Woods, both names that were among the details of the first video. It seems too odd to be a coincidence, though, and when Tim searches for the individuals in question, he manages to find their obituaries, and the photos reveal a near definite match.

It leaves something of a sour taste in Tim's mouth when he remembers this is supposed to be a fiction thing. Unless somebody involved in this knows how to hack shit real well, then they're using real people who cannot possibly have consented to becoming part of some game. There's also implications in the fact that the date listed for the photos is well after their deaths. He knows enough to know ghost stories aren't exactly uncommon in these sorts of things, but trying to imply that real people have become ghosts? Especially when ghosts are usually antagonists in scary stories — Tim stolidly reminds himself not to jump to conclusions, and simply notes the connections and moves on.

The bat computer, unfortunately, doesn't pull up info about the three other names, and it pulls up way too many results when it comes to the listed locations. It takes almost an hour of fiddling with search parameters, before he finally managed to land on something that might be a match. It's difficult to tell, because the photo they'd used is definitely old, but it looks like the Carle Park in question is in Illinois, which ostensibly gives them a location, corroborated by the fact that a highway 49 runs not too terribly far from it.

It takes a while of debate, but eventually he decides to go ahead and run the other photos of people through facial recognition, in case the photos match anything. He feels kind of slimy about it, but these things are public record, and even if this research isn't supposed to be for anything important, and even if the circumstances aren't exactly ideal, he and Bernard don't exactly have to post any of this info.

He's not sure whether to be surprised when he gets a match on a third individual. This time, the person in question is actually misidentified as Amber McCall, when the girl's actual name appears to be Ember McLain. What's more, the photo they'd been provided with is one of her as a child, despite the fact that she apparently didn't die until 21.

It seems an odd combination of details to get wrong, especially compounded by the fact that she was apparently on her way to fame, with a burgeoning music career. Her death is similarly tragic, reported as an accidental house fire, though Tim finds a contemporary article speculating otherwise. The writing reads as nothing but gossip, though, so he promptly closes it, and at the sound of footsteps, he closes out his search and takes his notebook upstairs, before any of his wayward siblings can start asking him questions.

[sweetieviktor]

young! silco x reader that has cryokinesis (headcanons + tiny scenarios)

summary: living in zaun isn't easy, but with someone and a little magic everything seems easier.

content warning: i think there's nothing to be warned about lol, maybe a bit of ooc silco?? overall it's just fluff :))

author notes: i loved to write this request!! even if i don't think it is this good bcs i feel like silco is soooo ooc but it's fine it's fine, we barely have a glimpse of his youth so yep. hope you guys like it!

» it didn't matter if you knew each other because of vander, sevika or babette, or if it was just a natural meeting. the moment silco laid his eyes upon you, he was mesmerized.

» he knew he wanted you, and he was determined to get what he wanted. always.

» but, as you've gotten to know each other, you ignited something on him that wasn't just desire. so he talked about it to his most trusted friend, vander.

“you're in love, brother” vander was smiling from ear to ear. it was so uncommon to see silco admit he was liking someone, even if it was so unlike him, it was also really cute. “i still can't believe you haven't called them on a date yet. well, if i was you, i would” silco was red, both flustered and angry, and, just like old friends do, vander really liked to annoy him. ��have you ever thought about someone getting them first than you?” he lowered his head, gesturing with his hand to make his statement clearer.

“please, shut up, vander.”

» some days after this, he asked you out. silco had a few partners before but he was afraid you wouldn't go on a date with him. he was not conventionally attractive nor did he have anything special, but his words were sincere and you could see it.

» it wasn't rare to have magic in zaun, but it still was something uncommon and it could easily cost you your own life. so, after a lot of dates, after a long time building up trust on one another, you asked silco to go to the bridge that connects piltover to zaun.

» it surely was a pretty sight but you would like to go there because below the bridge, there was water.

» you wanted to show silco a part of you that you kept pushing away and hiding for so long. a part of you that almost no one had seen.

» when your hands met the clear water, it felt like life was finally running through your veins again.

“what are you doing?” he came closer to you, inspecting how the water danced around your fingers, how it changed its shape until it turned into ice in your hands.

“well, i can do... magic.” you looked in his eyes expecting to see fear, disgust or hate, like everyone did, but he looked at you like the only thing that mattered in this moment was you.

“it's beautiful. could you, maybe, show me more?”