#inserting myself back into the fandom to talk about this

[findmewheretheseameetsthesky]

emerging from the void to present a thought that's been annoying me: are terminal diseases a thing for elves. Like cancer? Heart issues? Have they found a cure for these diseases?

Terminal neurological issues still seem to exist, (Fallon Vacker seems to have some vague form of dementia, and if I'm remembering correctly, it's because of his age?) and so elves have clearly not been able to figure out the brain very well either despite having telepaths.

[soullessjack]

i know we’re balls deep in destiel again But since revival talk is upon us again can i possibly pitch to anyone my jack guesses . Pretty please

[silversinfinity]

Cabin Fever

*this is a fetish blog- non-fet blogs and minors DNI (no age in bio -> blocked)*

Fandom: L/ove and D/eepspace Spoilers: None Pairing/AU: Z/ayne X f!Reader, normal universe Length: 5.4k

Contains: sneeze fetish content (duh), sickfic, fevers, caretaking, that trope where a character’s powers act up because they’re sick, reader insert

Summary: L/ove and D/eepspace's "Winter's Emissaries" summer event, wherein everything is the same, except I made it better gave Z/ayne a cold.

Notes: Backstory time! This game had an event last summer that included four different virtual roleplaying games to complete (one for each guy). In the one featuring Z/ayne, you play as “Winter’s Emissaries” searching for treasure to save a village. While playing through these, you also receive special social media interactions, one of them being this one from Z/ayne. I think my inspiration should speak for itself… 🥴

I wanted this to feel like it could seamlessly fit into the original canon plot, so a few lines of dialogue and description were adapted directly from the game. There's also gonna be casual mentions of things which might go over your head if you haven't played, but it shouldn't ruin the fic reading experience!

Okay, enough yapping. Enjoy 🫶

Fic Masterlist

Your reflection was barely visible in the glass as you stared out the window. Snow swirled in a gray and white cacophony, past the glass pane and all across the region as far as you could see. The conditions seemed more treacherous now that you had escaped them, free to observe rather than experience it. 

You'd experienced it enough today, anyways. Your face still stung of whipping, icy winds, and your hair dripped as clumps of ice and snow melted off your head. Every part of you felt chilled- your fingers, your toes, hell, your very soul. This little cabin was truly the desert oasis of the frigid mountain forests. There was no way either of you could've survived a night out there. 

To your right and behind you, a stunted rush of flames brought the fireplace to life. Your hand curled over your chest, relieved. There was never a situation where you weren't grateful to have Zayne around, but this one especially so. His simple presence was enough to flip an unfortunate situation into a favorable one, or at the very least, an okay one. This would be okay.

Another bundle of snowflakes rushed past the window as a new gust of wind took to the air with violence. You leaned into the knotted pine of the window sill and walls, pressing one ear to the glass.

Your brow furrowed. Only the crackling of the fireplace registered to your senses. Not even a muffled echo of the blizzard’s roar could be detected through the glass. Was the soundproofing of this cabin really that thorough?

Zayne’s hand on your shoulder shook the question out of your mind. “You shouldn't stand so close to the glass. A blizzard can break the window.” His voice was calm. “Come sit by the fireplace. It'll warm you up.”

You stood back from the glass, and one of Zayne’s hands caressed your cheek, palm hot against the chapped skin of your face. You found him in a similar state, skin flushed and wind-broken around and across his nose.

Zayne led you to the fireplace with a hand to your back. Heat instantly washed over you, and you tugged off the heavy coat that still clung to your shoulders. 

“You say I need to warm up, but you're the one who gave up your coat,” you said, hanging it on the hook off to the side of the hearth. He'd insisted you take it, once you realized the hard way that your own coat was highly insufficient for the weather.

“You're right. Come sit.” Zayne had seated himself in a wicker chair a few feet back from the fire’s glow. You paused to consider whether there was enough room to join him. If you were expected to fit next to him, you’d practically need to be sitting in his lap.

…Not that you minded. You never minded that.

As anticipated, you found yourself crunching your knees up to settle yourself next to him. You were squished against him, legs to legs, warm body to warm body.

It occurred to you, though, that there was plenty of sitting space throughout the cabin suitable for two people, much unlike the chair you had just forced your way into. You looked at Zayne and smirked. “I get it. You're using the fireplace as an excuse to cuddle, aren't you?” 

Zayne tilted his head and met your gaze. His lip curled so subtly you had to squint to see it: “Well, if you knew that was my goal, why did you still join me?” 

You nearly got lost in his eyes, aglow with a sunset orange reflection of the flames. “Because… I may or may not have the same goal,” you finally admitted, nestling the rest of your body to Zayne’s. Your head settled perfectly against his chest, like a puzzle piece to its match.

“I'm honored to be your personal heater after serving as your navigator.” 

A comfortable silence followed Zayne’s words. Your attention honed in on the crackling of the fireplace, the flames within wiggling their unsteady dance and casting a faint, smoky scent into the air. You inhaled deeper, chasing the nostalgic memories of summer bonfires lingering behind. The air was dry, but warm enough now that you didn’t feel moisture chasing every breath in through your nose. But the same couldn’t be said yet for Zayne, based on the still frequent sniffling above you. It really was dreadful out there…

The whole reason for your journey here slowly crept back into your mind. Today the blizzard would keep you both within the safety and warmth of this cabin, but you knew there was still a long journey in the cold ahead of you. As Winters Emissaries, it was your duty to complete the task given to you. The whole of a village was counting on it. 

As to what it was though, you still weren't completely sure.

“Hey… do you think the treasure the villagers mentioned is something like this?” 

You felt Zayne move above you at the sudden sound of your voice. He pondered your question. “A treasure that brings warmth in winter… the concept is similar enough,” he eventually said. 

“But visiting the palace just to get firewood for them would be pointless. They could just go into the forest themselves, couldn't they?”

“Perhaps the treasure is a self-heating energy stone. Winters Emissaries are like torchbearers. They've been entrusted with the responsibility of bringing energy to the village.”

An image of yourself and Zayne wearing special ceremonial attire during an Olympic opening ceremony, sacred torch and all, flashed in your mind. It was far more flashy and loud than your actual reality, traveling alone together in the winter wilderness of the mountains as the elements assaulted you. “Zayne, your imagination got a little wild there,” you giggled. 

“Oh? Then what sort of fantasy would you prefer to listen to?” Zayne sniffled again. Outside, the world had begun to turn dark.

“Something real, maybe.” Your eyes searched the space above the fireplace, as if the answer would appear there for you. “Hmm… talk about your childhood memories. When we were kids, wasn't there a time a snowstorm trapped you at my house?”

Long was the history between the two of you. You spent your childhood together, grew up together, and now Zayne was a unique combo of your primary doctor, lover,  and a formidable fighter you could rely on in any Wanderer encounter. 

So, you were a little hopeful Zayne would still remember your early days, after everything you'd been through. 

Zayne’s hand fidgeted at the small of your back. “...I remember that,” he finally began. “My parents and I went to your place for dinner. And then it suddenly started snowing. It was getting late, and we tried to head home but the car wouldn't start. We had no choice but to spend the night there.” Zayne paused, swallowed, and cleared his throat. His voice was noticeably rougher when he spoke again though, as if he hadn't cleared anything at all, “But you had already returned to your room. We had barely talked that day…”

There was a tremble you noticed in his voice too, as though the memories themselves manifested within the language he spoke. He wasn't always the most straight forward with his sentimentality of your shared youth, but there were always signs he cherished them the same way you did.

Yet you always felt strange, separated from yourself whenever you reflected on it, everything being the same and yet so different from what you had with him today. As children, could Zayne and I have ever imagined ourselves nestled by the fireplace one day, enjoying idle conversation?

“Maybe it's because I went to bed too early that day. If only I had known…”

You waited for Zayne to respond, or continue, but it never came. His breathing steadied and slowed above you, and you craned your neck to look up at him. 

His eyes were closed, long, dark lashes completely still. No surprise sleep took him so quickly; for as often as he would lecture you about getting enough sleep, you knew his line of work didn't allow him to rest as well as he'd like. He was known for taking any time he could between surgeries to nap. This quiet time in a cabin was the perfect environment for Zayne to take advantage of.

You were careful not to disturb him as you settled your head back where it was most comfortable. The warmth you shared between your bodies had only grown, stealing away any drive you had left to stay awake. The fireplace became a blur as your eyelids drooped.

Against your ear though, you were still awake enough to notice the slight wheeze in his breathing. And from his nose, the tiniest whistle when he exhaled. Both were not typical for him, in all the times you had rested together.

Mentally, you winced, remembering the pity taken on your poor choice of winter wear once the blizzard hit. Zayne assured you he still had enough layers on, and initially you believed him. 

Now though, you realized he would've told you that anyways. Of course he would've; he was prone to worrying more about you than himself. 

You wondered if this wasn't normal tired for him, but sick tired. Had he been hiding it from you? Or was it too early for him to even realize?

You were only barely awake yourself anymore, unable to think clearly. “Zayne?” you murmured, quiet, still hesitant to wake him. You heard nothing back, and then you heard nothing at all, as sleep stole you away too. 

—

You woke up suddenly, somewhere soft, warm. Pillow under your head, and layers of blankets draped over you. Sluggishly, you picked up your head. The grey light of morning seeped through the windows, pale and too early to be awake. You squinted to make out flecks of snow billowing past the window, just as energetically as the day previous. 

This wasn't where you had fallen asleep. So how did you…? 

Oh, right.

Somewhere in the night, you vaguely remembered being lifted and held to Zayne’s chest before he settled you somewhere else- it was in this bed, you now knew. You stretched and whined beneath the blankets before rolling over. Next to you, the comforter was pulled back and the fitted sheet wrinkled, implying Zayne had slept there next to you. The bed suddenly felt cold.

As you sat up, you frowned. Something had woken you, but what? It was quiet in the cabin. “Zayne…?” you called out groggily.

“heh’tSCHh-!”

Oh.

“hegH’SCHUhh-!”

Sneezing. Zayne sneezing, to be exact. Muffled and echoey beyond the half wall immediately behind you, you concluded he was too far away to have heard you, in another room of the cabin. 

You heard him sneeze again, after a longer delay. You internally winced as you had the night before. For all the time you'd known Zayne, you'd never heard such frequent disruptions, except for when an outside factor- such as illness- was actively aggravating him.

The urge to investigate dragged you out of bed. Your ears pointed you towards the bathroom across the way. As you got closer though, you stopped. The sound of rushing water could be heard, loud and clear with the door of the bathroom wide open. Your approach to the door was a little more hesitant- was he showering this early in the morning?

Beyond the steam cloaking the room, you found Zayne not in the shower, but hovering just to the side of the sink. His hair was slightly disheveled from its usual neatness, and damp, implying he'd been standing in there for some time. Even from where you stood in the doorway, his body language read of discomfort.

Though you stepped lightly, your bare feet weren't quiet enough to avoid alerting him. Zayne turned to look your way. His posture instantly straightened, but it didn't hold, wavering in tune with his breath. 

“Y-Y/N, hih…! hH’gnx’SCHhh-!” He notably pressed into his wrist, cutting the volume. That wrist flipped, and his fingers clamped over his nose, pinching tightly over the bridge in a fashion you'd seen before, when he was either annoyed or- “heh-NGTt-uh!” -suppressing a sneeze. 

“Bless you… thanks for the wake up call.” You couldn't help yourself from teasing him.

“Did I wake you?” He paused to sniffle, thick, unproductive. “I tried to be quiet getting out of bed, but I suppose that didn't last…” Zayne’s voice cracked and he coughed, hoarse. 

Concerned, you stepped into the bathroom, closing the space between you. “What's with the shower?” you said. 

“Clearing out my sinuses. You can turn it off.” The steam in the room was pleasantly warm, but the humidity was a little much, you thought. You shut the water off.

“Did it help?” you asked. 

“Well, it made me sneeze through the worst of it.” With the water off, you can hear congestion in his voice more clearly, and you shuddered to think this was an improvement from when he'd first awoke. His illness had set in, and it had done so quicker than you thought possible. Zayne took one step back from the counter, touching one temple and wincing. You saw him sway.

Your brow furrowed. One of your hands drew up to his forehead before Zayne had the chance to stop you. Your fingers brushed his bangs aside with a gentle sweep, and the pads of your fingers ghosted heat, searing his skin deeper than any steam could create on the surface. 

“You have a fever…” Zayne swatted you away, but you grabbed at his wrist in rebellion. Instantly, you gasped and froze in place. Under your palm and fingers was an icy cold, etched across his skin and leaving purple welts in his wake- it could only have originated from his abilities. “Your Evol, why…?”

In one quick move, Zayne shook his head at you, tugged his freezing wrist from your grasp, and twisted away with a wrenching sneeze. 

“hegH’NSCHhih-! Hh…” The exhale carried exhaustion. You allowed him the space to recover but refused him another inch beyond that. As you examined him closer, you realized that white, crackling frost glazed not just his wrist, but his neck too. 

“Are you…okay? Why is your Evol doing that?” you asked.

But Zayne couldn’t seem to catch a break. “I'm f-fine…hih…!” His denial was drowned out in a shuddering hitch of breath. He managed to retrieve a bunched up wash cloth from the counter, just in time to jam it under his nose before he-

“hih’MPFSChh-!”

Punctual.

“Bless you,” you said, wincing. “Uh, you were saying? About being fine?”

He was even slower to recover, as though the very last of his energy had seeped out through his sinuses, dampening the already soiled cloth in his hand. “I'm not denying that. Obviously I'm not well.” Zayne slid past you to leave the bathroom, and you followed nervously behind him to where he dropped down on the couch. He barely seemed to be present, tilting his head back, eyes closed. The dark shadows under his eyes told you he hadn’t slept much. “I just meant… the ice. I'm fine, this always happens when I'm unwell.” 

From where you sat next to him, you took the chance to touch his forehead again, and Zayne didn't protest this time. It was worse than you initially thought. “You're really hot, Zayne…”

One eye opened. “Flirting with me while I'm sick?”

“Hey, you know what I mean…” You smiled and felt at ease- at least he wasn't so ill that mirth failed him. 

It couldn't cure all your worries, though. Your touch trailed down his cheek, to his jawline, and then his neck. It was there that the temperature under your fingers went shockingly cold, as though he'd just been outside in the winter elements without a scarf. Zayne’s brow knitted at your touch, and he shivered. 

“You're freezing,” you commented. It wasn't a question, but Zayne nodded anyway. “Let me warm you up, then.” This too, wasn't a question of permission, but rather a warning that you would try regardless.

Again though, Zayne nodded. Even a doctor as work-driven as he was knew when it was time for someone else to do the caring.

You looked first to the fireplace across from the couch, in front of the chair where you had both dozed off last night. The flames weren't flames but small, smoldering ashes- certainly of no substance to subdue a fever and keep the chill of winter out. 

You tossed another couple logs on and allowed a moment for the fire to catch.

Then, back on the couch, you adjusted your knees under you. “Here, let me squeeze in.” You sidled close to Zayne’s spot on the sectional. He hesitantly straightened his legs, allowing you space between him and the back cushion of the couch.

“It'll get nice and warm here soon,” you assured. Zayne hummed, glassy, hazel eyes fixed to the ceiling above. Your attention drew back to his Evol, still vicious and frosty at his wrists and throat. The warmth of the fire couldn't sedate this- this cold came from within, and the longer you lingered on it, the more uncomfortable it looked. You feared self-inflicted frostbite was in his near future.

“Do you think you might be overdoing it? Your Evol, I mean.”

“It's…” Zayne paused, shivering violently as though simply acknowledging the sensation made it worse. You swore you saw vapor as he exhaled, as if the air of winter itself were contained around his head in a bubble. “It's against my will, mostly…”

His discomfort was nearly palpable to you as you realized this was completely out of his control. This was the same cold extreme enough for Zayne to use in combat, after all, and now it was acting of its own accord, attacking him. 

“Think of it as a flight or fight response,” Zayne went on. “My temperature is up, therefore my body is responding by trying to cool down.”

“It's just too much, isn't it?” you said, finishing his thought for him. Zayne nodded, casting his gaze towards you. He'd never looked so openly vulnerable underneath you, except in distant memories, and you felt your heart soften despite the circumstances. 

You laid your weight heavier into him, shuffling so that one leg intertwined between his own. He caught your eye when he moved his hands out of your way. 

Maybe… if you resonated with him…?

You reached for one hand. “Here, let me just…”

Zayne shrunk away though, tucking his arms to his sides. “No, you shouldn't…touch me when I'm like this. Not on my skin.” Worry, genuine worry flickered in his eyes, and you felt that soft glow in your chest trip and falter.

“Zayne…” Your hands remained hovered at his wrist. Begging him with your eyes. He tensed, but he didn't stop you from closing your touch over his wrist. His skin was frigid, burning against your warmer palms, but only that. “You won't hurt me. I promise.”

You seemed to get through to him, and Zayne found it in himself to relax, finally. Your squeeze over his wrist was firm, but gentle, wringing your grip back and forth. You slowed your breathing and sought his Evol’s frequency, and it met you with a chaotic and unusual rhythm. A warm light glowed from your palms. In a matter of seconds, his skin took the warmth of yours.

“Better?” You asked. 

Zayne nodded, brow raised just slightly as though he didn't expect this outcome. You weren't sure you had expected it to work either. Discomfort crept back into his features, and he breathed through clenched teeth- you healed his other wrist with more urgency.

Briefly, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You couldn't deny that you found it all alarming, try as Zayne might to act casual about the whole thing. The nature of Evol was different person to person, but was it really okay for it to attack its user? Even under circumstances of illness? What if there was more to this?

…No, no. You had to shake this out of your head, stick to the task at hand. Interrogating him in the midst of being miserable wasn't good for either of you.

You forced the frown out of your expression, before Zayne could read it and interrogate you instead. “Your hands look better,” you said. “Is it just your shoulders now?”

“Yes. I think.”

“Get comfortable, then.” Both having lost their icy touch, he tucked his hands under you, and you properly draped yourself over him like a weighted blanket. Zayne tilted his head up to accept your arms wrapping over the back of his freezing neck.

You suppressed a shiver of your own as you nuzzled your cheek into the crook of one shoulder, the cold seeping into you through his shirt. Then, you remained still, focusing to match the frequency of his powers again, further resonating. Any remaining anxiety drained out of you. Maybe you couldn't cure his cold completely, but a small win was still a win in the war against misery.

Zayne sighed above you in relief. ”hh…hih…!” And then in urgency. He fidgeted under you, prompting you to lift your head.

You were greeted with the sight of a man most definitely about to sneeze.

And it had you a little mesmerized, to say the least- the stoic type, you rarely ever witnessed his face so obviously contorted. Somehow, Zayne always maintained a calm and collected demeanor, even when he was feeling anything but. This expression he currently wore though, was scrunched up, needy. His brow pinched together, eyelids taught. And the pink rims of his nostrils ticklishly flared, lip curled back into a snarl.

“Y-Y/N, my…hands…!” His breathy voice barely hung above a whisper.

You didn't get the memo- at least not fast enough. His hands remained trapped under you, and with nowhere else to hide, Zayne twisted toward the couch cushion, squelching the sneeze into submission by willpower alone.

Willpower didn't carry him very far, however. “hH’NXTt’shih-!” The burst of moisture that broke through was audible. Zayne’s chest swelled under you to gear up for a second one, and you braced a little tighter around his neck- “hegH’SCHUhh-!” The force his sneezes wrought nearly folded him at the waist, even with your full weight on top of him.

Zayne stilled after that. You were more timid as you looked back up to him. “Bless you. You shouldn't fight it like that…” you said softly.

“You shouldn't keep my hands trapped, then,” Zayne shot back.

You shrugged, although you did shift your hips up to free one of his arms. Zayne took to knuckling under his nose, before carefully dabbing at any excess dampness with the edge of his sleeve. 

“Really though, don't worry about politeness,” you went on. Your expression turned downcast. “You're sick because of me, after all.”

Several seconds passed as Zayne processed your words. Then, he gave you a look, the one he always had when you said something silly.  “You know people don't get sick just from being out in the cold, right?” 

“Says who?”

“Y/N, I'm a doctor. Your doctor,” Zayne deadpanned. 

You couldn't hide your grin. “Okay, but consider this: I saw it happen in a movie. A lot of movies, actually.”

Zayne shook his head. A yawn crept into his voice, and his eyes closed. “Right. Next time I need continuing education credits, I'll just watch some movies instead.”

“You better invite me over for a movie date night then!”

“But of course.” You held him a little tighter. The corner of Zayne’s mouth tugged into a smile. “Y/N… you really never grew up,” he said. 

“Oh?” You tilted your head at him. 

“You're just as unserious as you were when we were young,” Zayne went on. “More than when we were young, actually.”

To that, you stuck your tongue out. “Coming from the most serious guy I know? You should try it sometime.” 

Zayne opened his eyes, and there was That Look again, the Y/N-Said-Something-Ridiculous Look. For a moment, it even seemed like the feverish haze had left his eyes. But it only lasted a second, and the sorry state of him continued to be evident.

Your eyes shifted down to his throat. The skin looked healthy now, as though it had never been coated in a deadly ice. “So is this whole, uh, Evol thing gone now?” you asked awkwardly.

“For now. I imagine it’ll stay away now, so long as you're here.” 

A complicated knot of feelings sat in your chest, out of nowhere. For all the times Zayne had gone out of his way to protect you, save you, cure you, rarely could you return the favor. And it was a regular experience- you were good at getting yourself into trouble, after all.

But now, here you were, in a position where he needed you. 

“Good,” was all you could muster in response. 

Your hands snaked out from behind his head where they found his face. Cupping his cheeks, your fingers brushed over all the contours you now knew deeply, intimately. You let your eyes drift thoughtfully over his lips, threatening your resolve. 

Clearly you had grown up in some way- the idea of kissing Zayne would've been strange and wrong in your youth, but now you found yourself fighting with your better judgment not to. You could already hear him quietly scold you for kissing him while he was sick.

Only then did you realize Zayne was looking at you. You found yourself instantly shy under his scrutiny- for all the times you had kissed him, gone on dates, fully gave yourself to him, he still managed to make you nervous. 

Just as the tension of your eye contact threatened to become too heavy, Zayne sighed and melted a little deeper into the couch. You shook yourself back into a caretaker mindset. 

“Are you warm enough?” Zayne hummed his confirmation. “Okay… can I get you anything? Fever reducers, maybe?”

You sat up, preparing to get up from the couch, but Zayne’s hands held your waist firmly. “I already took some. Why don't you just rest here with me?” His words caught and he coughed into his shoulder.  

Zayne’s voice was growing ragged, even for how softly he spoke. You made a mental note to raid the cabinets for tea later, whenever he was ready to accept it. 

For now though, resting with him would be an easy task. The light filtering through the snow plastered windows was still too dim and early for your liking. And with the most concerning of Zayne’s symptoms relieved, you were content to relax a little. Your breathing synced with the slowed pace of his, calm.

For all the symptoms that had been relieved though, there was always another waiting to rear its head and break the moment.

Zayne suddenly stirred under you. He stiffly exhaled. “Actually, Y/N…” Zayne sniffled, and then sniffled again, sharply squeaking within his swollen sinuses. “Maybe…you should, hih…!”  You sat up in time to see the twinge in his expression take hold, uncertain, a will-he or won't-he battle. The fluttering of his eyes and twitch of his nares tells you he definitely will, though Zayne seemed intent on holding back. The rest of his words tumbled out in a rush, “...should get me some tih-! tissues, hH-!”

His arm tensed over your back, and he swung up with the intent to cover above you. You moved quicker though, tucking his face against your shoulder. Another gasp shook him beneath you, fluttering against your skin. You only held him tighter.

“heH’MFSCHHeh-!” Throaty and violent, the sound was squashed into your shirt. It was a warm and damp rush in the fabric, and Zayne jostled you as his nose betrayed him a second time. “hH-! ‘ESCHh’uh-!”

Several peaceful seconds came and went. You propped yourself up and met his gaze sheepishly, exposing the damp spot that now soiled your shirt. Zayne’s face was hard to read, but his ears were noticeably pink. “You know, when people ask for tissues, they don’t usually mean someone else’s shirt,” he mumbled.

“I- wasn’t thinking, I guess…” you said. One hand lazily traced along the curved top of his ear. “You don't need to be so embarrassed.”

“I have a fever, remember?” Zayne retorted, so casually that you almost couldn’t detect it as an excuse- almost. He sniffled again, wet and productive. “Listen, I could still really use those tissues… unless you’re expecting me to use your shirt for that too.” His eyes shifted away from you.

The heat on his face seemed to possess your own cheeks, as it occurred to you just how compromised he was under you. Completely at your will, or at least as completely as he would allow, and so far it seemed to be a lot. Your mind threatened to drift to places far from innocent. 

“No, not unless you- asked to, I mean…! N-not at all.” Your words tripped over themselves as your tongue knotted itself with your inner desires. You shimmied back to the other end of the couch, part in preparation to get up, but mostly to hide yourself from Zayne’s intelligent gaze. He could always read right through you.

You managed to pull yourself together while fetching a tissue box from the bathroom. And a glass of water- you were sure he needed it.

You stopped in your tracks exiting the bathroom. Zayne still laid on the couch, eyes closed, somehow serene despite  being in the throes of a bad cold. 

Cute.

He stirred once you approached close enough to be heard. “Here,” you said, passing the box of tissues to him.

“A whole box? How generous,” he playfully remarked. Zayne plucked a tissue from the box, and then another. You looked down at the glass of water still in your hands, for whatever shred of privacy it would offer him as he loudly blew his nose. Soiled, he tossed the tissues into the wastebasket nearby. At this rate, and with the way that had sounded, you had a feeling that the bin would be full of them by the end of the day.

“Thanks,” Zayne said in a thick voice as he took the water from you next. He made quick work of it, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for thinking of his needs before he had even voiced them. 

You checked that the fireplace was still lively, and then you turned back to Zayne where you stood before him.

“Can I get you something else?”

Zayne looked at you with warm eyes. “I don't know… I’d just really like my blanket back.” You frowned, only to falter when Zayne winked at you. Duh.

You needed no other prompting to crawl back into your original position, settling yourself over Zayne like a large lap cat, or a blanket, as he had put it. A new sense of ease washed over the two of you. 

You turned your head where it was more comfortable on its side. Snow still billowed past outside, and you found yourself reflecting again on why you were both here. Although there would be much to do later today, or more likely tomorrow, when the snow had slowed, you could both have this moment. You didn't get to lay and nap together at home nearly as often as either of you liked, but right now, you were free to indulge in it. 

You had each other's comfort. And you had each other's warmth.

“Ya know, maybe what you said yesterday was right,” you suddenly spoke.

“Hm?” Zayne opened one eye, brow raised.

“About the treasure being something warm within winter, or however you put it.” Your limbs twitched, and you curled a little tighter into Zayne. “Maybe it's cheesy, but I feel like we have our own little treasure here, ya know?”

Zayne exhaled a laugh, but it was genuine. “Perhaps you're right.” He closed his eyes, and through a yawn, “We had to find our own little treasure before we could find one for the whole village.”

“Exactly.” You smiled, closing your own eyes. Your ears zoned in on the cracking and popping of the fireplace, coupled with Zayne’s soft breathing. 

Flashbacks of the cozy night prior crept into your mind. “Can you tell me the rest of that story from last night?” Your words were slurred by almost-sleep. Zayne only responded with a soft snore. 

Ah well, you thought. Another day, then; this treasure was treasure enough. 

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[elodieunderglass]

Hi, hello, I'm sending you a weird not quite ask that you can feel free to tuck deep into the recesses of your inbox and never look at if it's too weird.

But I've been thinking about Killie. Again. Which is odd, because I'm not the blorbo rotating type. I'm happy enough to watch other people play in their sandboxes, but I just...don't. Fandom. The way people normally do on this site. So, I was wondering why your horrible horseboy is so beloved and such an infohazard to anyone who comes across him, and I think I hit on it. At least for me.

You don't shy away from two things in your telling of him: that he's kinda awful in some ways, and that he's deeply loved. He's a horrible little gremlin with bad lungs and worse social skills who bites, and he's LOVED.

As kind of an awful person myself (*this isn't self deprecating, gimme a sec), who's not at all okay with the idea of dying alone and unloved, Killie and your depiction of him is soothing.

*I'm not awful because I choose to be, and I know I have a lot of good qualities even if it takes my therapist bullying me into recognizing that I do, but due to both disability and just life in general, I'm sometimes not a pleasant person to be around. I'm irritable quite often, and I'm flaky even when I'm doing my absolute best not to be, and I'm overly sensitive sometimes, and don't know how to talk to people without talking about myself and trying to relate it back to them, and I'm messy...it's hard to imagine anyone loving me.

But even though Killie is a fictional character, there's enough 'loved in spite of and also for his flaws as much as his virtues' that helps me reroute the worst of those thoughts into something a little healthier.

So thank you? I think? Yeah. Thank you for your horrible horseboy and his long-suffering but steadfast partner.

(in reference to killie the horrible horseboy OC)

thank you so much for this. far from not looking at it, I have looked at it a lot. It made me think very hard and (hopefully very well) about what I'd like Throw Your Heart Over to be about, and what I'd like it to achieve for people. You remind me that, while it's all fun, what's most important is to be brave and true.

You are so very brave and true. I admire you very much for being so brave and true. I am humbled by it. It is a big, big thing and I don't quite know what to say. I think it is reductive and unhelpful to say things like there's someone for everyone! everyone deserves to be loved! when we live in a world where that doesn't happen, nor does everyone want to be partnered, nor does everyone want to be given to someone else as a partner. it's an automatic reflex when someone says "I don't feel lovable for these reasons," for other people to be dismissive of the reasons - as if that's helpful - or to instantly say "someone will love you!", as if there has simply been a administrative mistake in the assignation of one's soulmate. But that reflex doesn't do much good. Firstly, it's true that there are reasons that make love less easy for people, and pretending that love isn't work just makes people who don't get enough love feel rubbish. Secondly, there is no mechanism in the universe by which people are assigned their very own partner (and believing that there is can make people crunched-up and hurtful, if they're having trouble finding one.) So yeah! It probably IS hard to imagine finding someone! And that's okay! It means making your imagination stronger! Beefing up your imagination! getting your imagination buff and built! (insert montage of Killie attempting to lift weights with his mind.)

so I made this with you in mind, though I'm not sure it's all that I wanted to say. it was something about your fears might be true, but your hopes might be too; and in the event of someone loving you, you'll know that you will have something tremendously special, because you'll both have to be VERY brave and true with each other. and because of this, you will have a lot of evidence to show yourself how loved you are. You might be hard work, but to someone who loves you, it will be good work. and no weird ghosty worries, with or without antlers, or even your own self-doubts, will be able to take away how real that work will be.

I think you sound tremendously lovable. I think you make a great difference to the world. Thank you for making me more brave and true.

[reallyromealone]

Can you do (whatever characters you like) x male omega reader?

I don’t care what character(s) get put x reader.

Plot: Toman was in a meeting talking about god knows what when reader begins to enter pre-heat. Chaos insues

Title: atypical courting

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Toman + others

Fic type: smut

Pairings: all x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, nsfw, smut, Omega male reader, group sex, double penetration

Notes: I just added everyone in here, it's all post story version's but crime ✨

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

He's known them most of his life, Mikey coming to his dad's bakery almost daily and witnessing (name) beat the crap out of a thief trying to rob them, immediately asking him to join Toman even if he was an Omega.

That was ten years ago, and here he was.

On top of the world.

Being a Toman executive wasn't easy, especially as (name) secondary gender but he made it work as he kept a constant supply of suppressants to keep his heat at bay, refusing to be seen in a moment of weakness by the other Toman executives.

(Name) And the others always had... Tension between them, not hostile not but more so sexual, they had for a very long time and neither parties actually handed it from the occasional light pass to a grope, a game of cat and mouse.

Mikey, hanma and Kisaki were one of the worst ones with their infatuation, obsessed with him without ever doing anything.

(Name) Was annoyed as he sat in the meeting, he called in sick for a reason and nooo! He had to be here to hear about god damn taxable buildings they needed to check up on! (Name) Was prepping for his upcoming heat, his preheat would hit any day now and he just didn't want to be here when it happened.

He couldn't afford to be vulnerable with people present.

"(Name), you good? Yer' sweatin' fucking buckets" Baji barked out as everyone turned to look at (name) who was barely present as a sweet smell filtered through the room, the smell of preheat.

"Why did you come if you were in preheat?!" Kisaki yelled and (name) hissed back at him "I TRIED AND YOU WERE LIKE NO EXCUSES! THIS IS IMPORTANT!" he did not care that he was yelling at a Toman vp, his stomach cramping and headache forming as he shakily stood "I'll bring you home" chifuyu and mitsuya said in a synchronized tone before glaring at one another "I'm fine, I'll just go home" (name) grunted as he stood, shaking slightly as he walked out of the room but he didn't get too far as the Toman executives be worked with daily flanked his side's, the Haitani brothers just behind him as hanma wrapped his arm around his waist.

"Back off!" (Name) Hissed at them "I'm a grown man, I can handle myself" he glared and removed Hanmas hand and the specticalled man smiled at the other as if he were an angry kitten "you have an alpha to care for you?" Draken said seriously and (name) looked cross "that's none of any of your business" (name) moved faster down the hall and towards the elevator, pushing them back with little effect as they towered over and got in, (name)s headache and cramp being particularly hard and a pained whine escaped his lips "you haven't had a heat in a while, what has it been a year? Since you had one?" Kisaki said to the other while pulling him closer from behind "we all know you don't have friends outside of Toman"

"And we know you want us as much as we want you" Muto finally pipped up as Mikey pulled him closer, hips touching each other and the smell of pharamones made (name) hazy "let us treat you good... Be our pack Omega" Mikey commanded softly, watching (name) sway slightly before the short blond lifted him effortlessly "just... Just don't claim me..." He whispered, thankful he was wearing his collar today as they all grinned.

(Name) Didn't know whose cock was where as he was double penetrated, when one cock thrusted in the other thrusted out as someone's cock was in his mouth, jerking off others as he was surrounded by alphas and cocks as he was touched and most of all filled to he brim.

"Alphaaa~" if (name) were even slightly coherent he would be horrified at the fact he was pulling his boss closer with his ankles around the blonds neck as he jerked off smileys cock that was right by his lips, moving to take it in his mouth with a soft hum.

"God, we should have made you ours forever ago.." pah said drained, having had the soul sucked from him via (name)s tight ass "you think he would be a house Omega? Bare foot?" Angry asked curiously as he too recovered and Draken snorted "he would rip out our eyes for even suggesting that"

It was true, despite being cock drunk and needy now, they knew he was too work driven to even think of that, he wasn't a house Omega who would sit all docile for them.

They literally saw him beat the shit out of a lower employee for losing a cargo box of drugs.

So that said enough.

"I'm just happy we don't have to dance around each other... I wanted so many times to take him in my office" Koko said and Sanzu grunted in agreement "I once saw him climb the lounge kitchen counter and his ass was at face level, took everything not to shove my face in his plush ass" Sanzu was almost hard thinking about it but (name) fucked him out of commission for at least a day.

It had only been five hours and the Omega is just getting exhausted as he let the there's do as they pleased to him, eyes barely staying open as he took what was given.

(Name) Woke up sore, real sore as he sat up to see bodies all over the room, chatting or sleeping as the Omega processed what happened "you need another knot baby?" Baji asked as he chugged a water bottle as Angry looked at (name) curiously as poor (name) processed what took place, cum leaking from his ass as he shakily got out of Draken and Kakuchos hold "what... Fuck... Ow" (name)s hips and ass hurt as he nearly fell over, caught by smiley who snickered at the other man's pain "what did you all go to town on me?!"

"Yuuup" the pink haired twin said kissing his cheek with a cackle "I need a shower..." (Name) Grumbled as he stumbled to the washroom with a hard limp, kicking out any horny alphas that tried to join him.

(Name) Soaked in the bath as he thought about what transpired... He just fucked all his co-workers.

And his bosses!

Oh god he got railed by Mikey and Draken at once.

Memories flooded back as he remembered everything they said to him, everything he did!

He practically attacked Kisaki for his dick!

He didn't hear the washroom door open as mitsuya walked in dressed in nice clothes, a to go bag in one hand and clothes in the other "you haven't eaten since last night" mitsuya chuckled as he crouched before (name) "we got you some breakfast" he said as (name) looked confused "why?"

"You're the pack Omega, gotta keep you taken care of"

"I'm no--""-- we aren't asking you to quit, we just want you and we know you wanted in our pack... To stubborn to admit it"

(Name) Flushed as he didn't deny it and looked at the food they got him, his favorites all present as the Alpha tried to feed him "you have wet hands, you might drop a chopstick"

After the bath, Mikey tried to demand (name) live with one of them preferably him but (name) shut that shit down "I am not going to be your back and call fuck toy " he grumbled and Mikey glared but the pout proved his harmlessness at that moment.

"Next time, in not letting you all rail me back to back"

"No promises"

[ghostymarni]

Hi I had no caf today.

But uhh… OC lore pls?

no caf???? How??? 😂✨ do you prefer tea or perhaps you can run on juice?

I need it to function in the mornings. I either need that first brew or an ice cold energy drink to get the gears turning ♥️✨

I hope you mean how Aev started cause that’s what imma share haha!

Aeviririn is my main, self expressed, self insert. I wanted a way to express my presence on the holonet in a way I both saw myself, adding my hair + design style of expression, as well as overall expression of interests + communication. Her design has lots of symbolism in how I designed her.

with the loss of my late husband (it’s been 10 months already) I turned back to art knowing it’s the truest way of communication for me.

I know I started her as a self presence on “this is the artist” drawing myself with my designed mandalorian bucket. But it evolved to who she is now. I’m learning as I go, I’ve never had a public oc before in an active fandom. And it’s all new to me being so involved <3

I’ve learned + continue to learn, the difference between fun lingo usage + fandom RP, which I feel is a very thin line. But just balancing responses between me and using Aev confused myself sometimes because Aev is literally me hahaha. I don’t see myself starting an RP only account because my ADHD is too inconsistent.

my late husband + I called ourselves a mandalorian family, he was a long time boba fett fan even before I met him, and unknowingly we always initiated the keldabe kiss with our son and personal moments. He was into the bad batch before I was and he’d quote things to me not knowing their origin. Making TBB so much more personal. so the grief I felt, felt like I was exposing me to my true feelings and evolving aeviririn to who she is now, feels just as much healing as it is expression. Almost like I was recreating myself as I fell apart.

arm wraps - symbolize how I feel like I’m always fighting through life. Losing my partner I put the wraps on knowing i have no one to help protect me. To keep fighting forward.

long mohawk - it’s my actual hairstyle. I haven’t cut it in almost 8 years, and I shave the sides every other week.

left leg blaster - my late husband taught me how to shoot, helping me overcome my fear of weapons. I like the rifles/snipers not just in games but I lock in when I shoot them. As well as having a blaster for a sniper is essential for close range, but also I keep it as a reminder that my left handed partner always reminded me to be prepared for anything.

Aev is so much of everything I’ve grown to be, and who I strive to keep being. Her attitude is so much of my own as well as my inner confidence. Tomboy + femme, so much of my own desires and interests, and life experiences.

my obsession with the marshal commander actually started a long time ago. Denial cause I had a convo with my late husband talking about what clones I’d connect with before I was deeply immersed into clones as he was. Refusing the 501st because it felt basic hahahaha (he had a captain Rex tattoo) and I was like, I kinda like the red guys, it’s kinda cool.. referring to the coruscant guard. And he was like “oh they’re like the cops of the city” which made me cringe at the time because i wanted to find my reason for it on my own terms. Ironically after he passed I stumbled back onto fox and I hyper fixated on him. Which the fandom at the time was very minimal (from what I saw), about fox being mean grumpy and often disliked. But I couldn’t help it. I liked that hahaha thanks to @eobe for her forwarding me commander caf escalated post which sparked a whole cup of chaos that im so glad I jumped on. And connecting with @lonewolflupe finding out we had so much in common which sparked the chaos twins, initiating a whole new chapter of Aev and creativity <3

I truly appreciate everyone that’s drawn Aev, includes her, and supports my innuendo to myself. I can’t wait to see how she (and I) grow.

[yanderes-galore]

I allow myself to send a request now, because with the time difference, it will be 11pm in my country (and I do not know if I will still wake up)

Fandom : Jujutsu Kaisen

Personnage : Satoru Gojo

Accord : romantique

Type : alphabet

Thanks to advance ~😘

Sure! Here you go :) Hope you enjoy my take on Gojo!

Yandere Alphabet - Satoru Gojo

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Smothering behavior, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Violence, Murder, Kidnapping, General Yandere themes, Controlling behavior, Paranoia, Isolation, Slight jealousy, Dubious relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Gojo is most likely overly affectionate. His behavior may hide darker secrets but he's genuinely affectionate. He's physically affectionate, often clinging to his beloved and being overly friendly.

Gojo can seem overbearing and intense with his obsession. Part of him is scared to lose you... Yet he'd never show that part to you. He has to be strong for you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

The scariest part of Gojo is his strength. If he even had rivals he really wanted to get rid of, he could easily make them red mist. Safe to say Gojo is capable of getting messy for his darling.

He just knows when to pick his battles... usually.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Gojo would not mock you. He would treat you the best he can if he ever did abduct you. After all, if he abducted you he most likely did it for, in his words, "good reason".

He meets your every need, promising to give you everything you want as long as you don't leave.

However, Gojo most likely won't need to abduct. He primarily stalks you and why should he be jealous? He has the strength and power to make you his. No one else stands a chance.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He tries not to, you have more freedom than most yanderes.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Gojo keeps most of his baggage hidden, yet he seems open with you. He never likes to show vulnerability but I imagine the mask slips a bit at times. So when he is truthfully open with you, it's rare.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused. You're never going to be as strong as him... but he finds your attempts to fight the decisions he made for you adorable.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not really a game yet he might find your escape attempts amusing.

Most because he knows you won't get far.

The only way you can make escape attempts is if he allows you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Realizing there is no getting rid of him. As I said before, the scariest part about Gojo is his strength. He can easily follow you, take you away, and remove any threat around you.

That's the scariest part about him as a yandere. The fact he's strong and persistent.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Hard to say but he definitely wants you protected. Maybe he wants to be more than your boyfriend, maybe he's happy at that stage. For the most part... Gojo just likes you near him.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

I'd say he does but he's playful. If he didn't like you talking to someone then he'd insert himself into the conversation. If someone was getting a bit too flirty, he'll just pull you away.

He likes to play it off, maybe playfully pouting when you neglect him. Being jealous doesn't bother him too much. It's when someone genuinely tries to take you that he begins to have issues.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Obsessive, Overprotective, Manipulative, Slightly controlling, Playful, Affectionate, Clingy, Paranoid.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Honestly, you could meet him in many ways but he'd always try to be playful and friendly. He tries not to get too close at first. He's scared to lose you like the people he has lost before.

The world is dangerous and since you're not as strong as him, he could lose you easily. He originally tries to stay professional, best he doesn't get too close. However... Despite his attempts... You still manage to infect his mind.

After all... he can protect you if you just never leave his sight. This makes him stalk you, cling around you, and just never let you out of his sight. All for your safety...

Right?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Eh, not really, no.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He wouldn't want to hurt you so I imagine isolation in a room he picked out and maybe restraints if he feels you can leave. For the most part his punishments are actually really tame compared to more. Being locked in a room yet not restrained is an introvert's dream.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many as long as you're kept safe. He's actually a chill yandere compared to other JJK yanderes.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient, actually. He may not seem like it but he tries to be patient for you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Not really, no. Losing you may make him snap, actually. Which is the last thing the world needs, honestly.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Maybe a little bit but if he genuinely thought you were in danger he would not let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood and Curiosity seem to best fit him.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He'd do his best to comfort you, caging you in his arms as he whispers in your ear. There's no need to be afraid.... He's doing this to protect you.

He's doing this because he loves you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

There really is no escape when it comes to Gojo. You just have to hope staying out of danger and not getting too close with others appeases him. Which, again, is the scariest thing about him.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No, he would not.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere but would probably level a city for you. He's strong enough to do that, scarily enough.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Well, he protects you for a long time... but he may initiate romantic feelings after a year.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not intentionally if at all.

[thebroccolination]

helloooooo ! sorry if you've already been asked : a lot, like a huge lot, of people don't trust new siwaj as a director and are disappointed of him directing revamp. i dare say myself i don't fully have faith because i don't like the slowness he inserts consciously or not in some scenes. my fave serie is uwma as well (that's how i know you from twt) and i've watched ten of his dramas (i checked mydramalist) including his two latest 'fourever you' and 'perfect 10 liners. and i found some "improvement" if i may dare say. but people don't forgive him about 'we are' character toey who is ace in the novel having a nsfw scene in the drama.

ANYWAY. all of this gibberish to ask for your opinion please, thank you ^^"

Good morning!

New is a complicated subject for me.

I’ll be honest that I also have reservations about him, but they’re unrelated to any of his three recent series (which I haven’t seen). My main qualms with New are his mishandling of Between Us and his insistence on tackling all the jobs himself even when he is demonstrably not equipped to do them.

If you go back far enough, you’ll see a ton of positive meta posts I made as Between Us was airing, because I went into that series with 2.5 years of goodwill toward New for directing Until We Meet Again and also for building Wabi Sabi, the only Thai studio and agency with an openly queer CEO who explicitly allowed his queer talents to be as open as they dared. Earth (Cooheart) simply couldn’t have grown the platform he has now anywhere but Wabi Sabi. He wouldn’t have felt that safe anywhere else, I guarantee it. Just based on the interviews he’s given and the homophobic bullying he went through on the sets of his early series, I think Earth could have easily been shoved out of the industry altogether under any other management.

Wabi Sabi also became a new home to Art, whose career was almost obliterated by the relentless smear campaign against him by Mew and his fandom.

Without New, we wouldn’t have Boun, because before New, Boun had spent seven years being taken advantage of and abused by the entertainment industry. He doesn’t talk about what he went through nowadays, but back in early 2020, he shared some pretty harrowing details about what was done to him by certain predatory figures in the industry. There are a million ways his career could have ended prematurely if New hadn’t stepped in and taken him under his wing at Wabi Sabi.

Then there’s Prem, who was part of Starlatiz when UWMA aired, but New maintained a good relationship with his agency to the point where people regularly mistook Prem for a Wabi Sabi artist. Wabi Sabi didn’t just post updates for Boun’s schedule, but for Prem’s, too. Even when Prem had solo projects, Wabi Sabi still promoted them. And in an era where multiple khuujin had been separated or poisoned by their agencies or managers, we could have lost BounPrem so, so easily in those early days.

New kept Wabi Sabi, a small queer agency, going throughout the pandemic barely making ends meet—if he wasn’t outright in debt.

Now, I think he did do a subpar job on Between Us. I could rant and have ranted about that for hours. I’ll save that for another time.

But I also think New deserves grace for the sheer scale of the contribution he’s made to the QL industry. To the queer community in his country. To the actors he’s fostered and nurtured. SOTUS might have been the tidal wave that really kicked off the BL surge in 2016, but without Love Sick in 2014, we wouldn’t have had SOTUS. And New was still in his mid twenties when he directed LBC, so he really has been a pioneer in many ways.

As a director, I don’t love his music choices, I wish he’d give the editing scissors to someone else, and I think he needs to get over his “sex scenes aren’t necessary because I’m good enough that I don’t need to resort to that” mentality because not every sex scene is extraneous, New, but.

As a person, as an advocate, as a pillar of the queer community, as a friend and a mentor, I will always give that man his flowers.

So while I can’t speak to the series you’ve mentioned, I can say that’s why I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for Revamp. It’s outside his normal wheelhouse, and I don’t know if he’s really got his heart in it, but I also think Boun wouldn’t have trusted him with his passion project if he didn’t think New would do right by him.

(Of course, Boun’s also a big softie where New’s concerned because of the whole Saved My Life thing, but y’know.)

Ultimately, I’m willing to wait to see the results before I judge. I don’t want to pile on doubt or negativity on a project Boun has put his blood (ha), sweat, and tears into for years.

So fingers crossed.

I love you, New, don’t fuck it up. 🫵

[ruukina]

WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least. 

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat. 

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced. 

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world. 

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms. 

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway. 

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid. 

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart. 

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process. 

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home. 

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants. 

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there. 

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh. 

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core. 

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain. 

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan. 

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either. 

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.” 

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body. 

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you. 

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )

[plor-bindery]

Bound: Under Giant Mountains by wolfpants

The delightful, evocative, and thoughtful Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants is up next in my tour of wolf’s fic I bound. This landscape of this fic is soaring: mountains and dragons and wilderness. But at the same time, its subject matter is as small and carefully contained as Harry's postwar pain. This is a Harry who is struggling, and struggling to even admit he's struggling. At the risk of spoiling anything, the way wolf writes Harry's breakdown and surrender is so, so soft and sweet and real. I love a Harry who confronts any danger head-on except the danger of what's going on inside him.

(Fun fact: this fic was posted while I was in the midst of writing Polar Night/Midnight Sun and I was like OH GOOD WOLF HAS DONE THE DRACO IN NORWAY THING AND DONE IT BETTER THAN I COULD, I CAN STOP WRITING NOW but of course, I didn't stop; I let wolf's words inspire me onwards, and this is another reason why I love fandom: the overlapping of writerly worlds, the echoes and resonances we experience as creators and fans.)

For this bind, I chose a relatively simple aesthetic, but couldn't resist inserting little tiny dragons as scene breaks.

More process and materials talk under the cut.

Materials: This was my first go at making bookcloth! I had purchased a little remainder scrap of forest green cotton at the fabric store and only noticed after ironing it out and laminating it to the tissue that there were stripes of sun damage on the creases of the cloth, sigh. I had to start over. I used mulberry tissue but some of the fibres are palpable through the cloth, which I am not wild about. Still -- homemade bookcloth! Fun!

Text block is printed on 24 lb cream letter cut down to a quarto bind, and is actually the first bind I did where my grain direction was correct. (I know, I know...) Sewn on two linen tapes with waxed linen thread.

Endbands (which I neglected to photograph, apparently) are machine made.

End papers are just scrapbook paper, nothing special.

The decoration is gold HTV. Hoo boy. More on that shortly.

Process: My first quarto bind! First bookcloth making! First bind with the grain direction correct! So many firsts!

That being said, there was nothing particularly special about this bind's process. My biggest struggle (which is visible) was the gold HTV. I think I've since cracked the code more on how to apply larger bits of HTV without making marks in it (short version: higher heat, less pressure, more patience) but I was still struggling here, as you can see. That being said, I do love the sort of hobbity vibe of the rune-ish font and the dragon/mountain.

I made myself a copy of this as a test first, and the HTV is even more messed up on that. :| Also, I realized when reading it afterwards, I fucked up the page order in one signature. This is fixed (god, I hope it's fixed) in wolf's copy.

Signature length is a tricky thing with case binding/sewn binding in general. I wound up needing a bunch of blank pages at the back of the typeset so I did something I have since done in other binds: added a "selected praise for" section where I copy/pasted AO3 comments into the text block like literary reviews. I love this so much: the juxtaposition of the formal literary trope with the squee and all-caps and hype of fandom commenters. I am not the first to do this, of course, but you'll see it appear again in future binds from me for sure. (And of course I put my own comment first. OF COURSE I did. Binder's privilege!)

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (The Meringue Haberdashery)

Part 2 of the longforms, here we go:

So first things first, when I heard this title I had to google the definition of haberdashery because both myself and my mom thought it was one of those words that basically meant nonsense. Apparently it doesn't even mean that in America so idk where we got that idea

"I teach you nothing, I only show you the way" Someone needs to tell Don Juan the definition of 'teach'

"I sewed the funeral suit, she looked better than when she was alive" Not the best time to be prideful of your work but go off I guess

"It was a difficult time, and I found myself, uhhhhhhhh-" Absolutely no one knew what was going on at any point in this entire play and I'll never get tired of the chaos that vibe created

God, there's so much to say about the fucked up flashback sequence- The confusion over whether the dead girl was Don's wife or child, AJ assuming Sam was playing Don's child self as opposed to the kid who died, Don Juan being continuously 'in the flow' while no one seemed to know wtf he was on about, the girl's name changing to Nikita, AJ stage slapping the shit out of Sam, and ofc the fucked up death of a needle going through the child's eye shown via Sam's brilliant stagecraft

Also I think "You can sew a waistcoat perfectly, but you cannot sew a narrative together" deserves its own bulletpoint, I love that line so much

"I've had a difficult life, Don Juan, and if you want to live it... Then go for it" Words of wisdom from Don Juan #1 there

Even in a brief moment, we really get to see the gears turning in Sam's head when hearing the word 'sopa', searching the 'Spanish vocabulary' section of his mind before confirming Luke is in fact talking about soup

"You ever wonder why you and him have the same name?" Luke bringing up the elephant in the room that will soon become a surprising plot point

"He has no ambition!" "He's had a rough year!" He's like damn, give my name twin a break, his daughter died in a really traumatic way, of course he's not alright

"For many years his daughter was alive and healthy! Yet the shop stayed the same size! W H Y ?" Luke's delivery on 'Why' is perfectly over-the-top, as always

The back and forth of the soup bit "Give me a spoon" "I gave you a spoon" "Oh. Well this spoon is shit, get me a better one-"

*insert Adam Driver 'good soup' meme*

This is just a question, but could anyone tell me what Luke says after Sam says "He could maybe find some closure, some religion, something else-" because I can't for the life of me understand, and the autogenerated captions completely gave up on it

"I am a very sexy man" - Tom, in every goddamn improvised play (unless of course, he's a very sexy woman instead)

Luke deciding to become a ghost/hallucination of Don Juan #1's dead daughter- I know she ends up being a ghost, but the first scene really has vibes of 'oh this man has PTSD' so idk what the original intentions were

Idk if it was Nikita's voice or the fact a customer had just stolen the store's bell for some reason, but Don Juan has lost his ability to form words! That shit wasn't even stuttering anymore, it was full-on, natural-sounding gibberish, like he was playing the translator game with a language that doesn't actually exist

"Don Juan.." "Yes, Don Juan?" Ah yes, the culmination of the joke I've been waiting for

Sam suggesting AJ already tried giving himself a lobotomy after AJ speaks fluent alien-speak again is top-tier comedy

Unexpected Don Juan lore drop: Not only was he born and abandoned inside the haberdashery, he also constructed the entire building himself, as an infant. The more you know!

"Just like the namesake of this haberdashery, you are cracking! Like a meringue that's been left out too long... I can't watch your mind fracture like a meringue under a hammer" Guys I think Don Juan #2 might be trying to remind us of the play's title and that it's totally relevant to the plot

Hey so has the fandom decided on what the dead daughter's name is? Or is it like a Billy/Timothy/Benjamin type thing? Because I need answers

"Has your dead daughter been saying things to me fro beyond the grave? No! ... My wife on the other hand-" I don't have anything to add here, I just like that bit

Sam caught that needle in his hand like he caught the cocktail in The Hare Who Wore A Sweater

"You know anti-psychotics could cause mental cracking in healthy minds, so we're just wondering, what's going on here?" The tone of this whole conversation is as if the doctor is trying not to cause drama, as they actively (and accurately) accuse the 'sick' wife of drugging the town. I can't tell if that's just the characters general vibe or if they're worried about their own safety if they piss this lady off

Luke: "What are you doing?" Sam: *silently trying to figure out who the hell this character's supposed to be* "Nikita-?" Luke: *closing one eye to make it more obvious* "What are you doing??"

Sam goes through the same confused thought process after the 'What are you doing to yourself?' line

"Who is making you do this?" "He is" "Who is making you do this?" "He is making me do this-" "WHO is making you DO THIS? Come on!" "I- I'm making me do this-" ".. It's your wife, your fucking wife" Nikita/Luke is so tired of Don Juan/Sam's shit

"Do you ever wonder why you and my father have the same name?" Luke started this plot line, and now he's the one to end it

Luke being the translator for the audience is so funny. He said 'es verdad' and was like 'fuck you aren't gonna know what that means, here I'll spell it out for you'

"I was never sick.. I just don't like working!" Understandable villain motivation

"He said I was a bad influence and he kept me away" I mean you did drug the whole town, I can imagine you weren't the best influence back then either

Also wow, they made the daughter's death even more fucked up than before-

Tom being summoned to stand and represent 1000 Don Juans, as his singular self

"We really have to finish the show" "So it finishes with the villain winning!" A villain played by Luke winning is the only kind of unhappy ending I want to see, really it couldn't have gone better

Final thoughts: Everyone that thinks The Lighthouse is the most chaotic SFTH play needs to rewatch The Meringue Haberdashery right now

[eobe]

My dearest folks and wanderers, who come around…

Currently I’m overwhelmed of how much love and reactions I get in here 🥰 Thank you all so much! I‘m sending big Wrecker hugs to all of you 🤩✨🙏 Before I return full force to drawing Star Wars fanart, have a rare original artwork of mine – my current awake internal processing dragon ✨🐉

Somewhere it is told that those clumsy, precious-hoarding and -staring lizards, feigning intelligence for big effect, should bring luck allegedly 😂🤷🏽‍♀️ I‘m not sure about that, but the scale hatching pattern looks nice and was dopamining for me to draw, so yeah 🤩✨

Announcements and statements

have a caf for those ☺️☕️🫶

Things happened and things may happen and I‘m always open for messages, no matter if request, feedback or deep talk – be sure it’ll be with an open ear, respect and caf vibe 😀☕️ I‘m serious with important things, but I‘m not willing to discuss important things emotionally loaded. Agitated hearts aren‘t wise, only agitated – so I won‘t accept quarrel invitations 😂 This is the way 🤷🏽‍♀️

Holidays were weird 🤯 I got sick, I got unsettled, I did my first fanfiction-y writing (wtf? I write?) and my developing artstyle decided to unsettle me additionally, confusing my WIP and a genuinely asking feeling what for Maker’s sake is actually happening ❤️‍🩹

So with all my current whatevers I got inspired to do some more clarifications 🙏✨

What is that Chaos Squad thing?

For those who don’t know – don’t get confused, the „Chaos Squad“ is working on a definition and is in it’s finding phase 😂 As I see this, we‘re fun chaotic artists / writers / else collab group and want people to enjoy fun and inspiring-each-other-into-creating escalations with us in the Star Wars fandom 🤩🫶✨

I can only speak for myself, but like some others of us, I play with my Star Wars OCs and the art-, reblog- or comment-chaos gets OC „flavoured“. But I’m not a roleplayer 😀 I stay artist Eobe and use for Chaos Squad activities my OCs mainly to give myself an art- and scene-fitting face insert in our together creations! ☺️ Feel yourself always invited to reach out if you want to ask something! ☕️

This is an artblog and it stays an artblog ✍️ my focus is doing art, collabs and interactions mainly in the Star Wars universe, but I love to do art and crossovers with other fandoms if I like 🤩✨… or some more original art, if I manage to get over my actual shyness 😗

Eobe entering AO3

sounds like a threat 😂 I‘m almost sure I would even do threats not without offering a caf ☕️ what am I hihihi

I’m on AO3 now and dragon is my pfp in AO3!

Gorgeous @eclec-tech 🫶 lured me back to AO3 as co-creator for continuing „The Spicy Fox“ story ☕️🦊! Check it out, the new chapter is so much fun to read and I love to have the honor to accompany it with my artworks – a new one freshly added at the end of the chapter, already showing some progress in my artstyle (if my eyes aren’t jinxed like everything else seems to be currently 😱)! The artwork will get its own posting of course, but I wanted to opt in back to you all with dragon 🐉✨

As I also absolutely unforeseen managed to write a „thing“ despite blockades – my unintroduced clone OC took over when I was massively unsettled and started his Matrix / Undercover coded loner mission against the inhibitor chips, knowing way too much… I think I call it „The Source Code“ 👀✨ and I‘m very tempted to deliver you the continuation that already roughs my brain (some were also asking for it 🙈 thank you so much)!

So long story short (what a joke actually!? 😂)

There will be more art again soon hopefully (and maybe even those writings? Whatever maintenance is currently happening in my head 😂)

I‘m absolutely looking forward ☝️🤩✨

Taglist – for information: @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit @freesia-writes

[daddywright]

daddywright fall fic writing challenge

Because the Organization that Shall Not Be Named has embraced AI (among other sins), I decided I wanted to create a little challenge of my own that isn't just for November and contains prompts that I'd actually want to do as a fic writer. I did this for myself, but if anyone wants to try out any of these prompts, you're welcome to! Because I'm lazy, I'll be trying to commit to this all fall, and give myself a goal of 30,000 words. We'll see how that goes!

Some of these are 18+ prompt ideas, because I like to write explicit material. Take or leave them as you like.

As a way to get myself excited, I'm going to commit and post something by 12AM tonight (!) that falls along one of these guidelines. Stay tuned!

Write from a character's POV you've never attempted before.

Write for a ship you've never written.

Resurrect a character from the grave.

KILL a character DEAD.

Back to the Future: time travel shenanigans!

Share and develop a WIP that's at least 2+ years old

Fic inspired by a song you love.

Write a fic in future tense.

"He asked for no pickles" - Character A defending Character B (any level of seriousness)

Publish something from a fandom you've never released anything for.

Ask an artist if you could write a fic based one of their pieces you love!

For Want of a Nail: change one little thing from canon, and see what happens.

Write a crossover - if not a whole fic, then an interaction between characters from two different pieces of media

This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Two of Us: write a scene between enemies.

Self-Care: write a character getting comfort you could use in your life

Career AU: write a character with an entirely different career than their canon job

Babysitter Required: write a scene with a character that's been de-aged (through ageswap or magical means!)

Kryptonite: a character of choice encounters the one thing they can't tolerate

Live Cringe, Die Free: write an original character self-insert and have them interact in a scene with your blorbos

Knife to a Gunfight: write a scene where a character loses a fight

Passport: have your character travel somewhere you've been before

Because You Should: write a scene where the overlooked female character of a popular piece of media is the main focus

The Godfather: have a minor character play mom or dad to a child character for a day (reluctantly if necessary)

5+1 things: a classic

(18+) Laios Touden-core: Write an explicit scene with monstrous elements.

(18+) That Could've Gone Better: Write a scene that features some elements of bad sex. (Not sex written poorly, but sex that is in fact not good. They can talk about it, even.)

(18+) Write a scene featuring a kink that you've not written yet.

Werewolves of London: Your character has been struck by a curse. What is their terrible affliction?

AO3 Trope Bingo: write for a popular ao3 trend that's been around awhile (i.e., Sentinel/Guide, Hanahaki, Soulmate Writing)

To Shreds, You Say?: write a scene where a character absolutely ruins somebody else (ruin can mean whatever you want it to)

Halloween Special: write something spooky!

[nancylou444]

Hi Nancy,

I hope it's okay I turn to you with this, but I just recently joined spn tumblr so I haven't really discovered many blogs I share my opinions with yet (though I did find some awesome blogs I'm excited to follow, but most of them only really talk about spn and the characters and not the actors, and this ask is concerned with j2m and danneel). Buckle up, this will be long because I tend to over-explain myself. Sorry in advance.

So I've been in the fandom since 2018 but haven't really paid attention to the cast other than watching some gag reels/bloopers, interviews with j2(m) and clips from cons. I never dug deep into the relationships/dynamics of the cast members (and also took like a 3-year break from the fandom so I'm not at all up-to-date)

I like to think I'm pretty good at reading people (in that when I find someone likeable they tend to prove themselves to be a good person and when I dislike someone seemingly for no reason I usually discover some pretty fucked up things about that person later on. Obviously with celebrities you never actually know what they are like irl but so far I've been right about people as far as I know.)

All this to say that I had an inkling about misha from the start, even though I never cared enough to do my research and justify my dislike towards him. I always got this pick me vibe from him, and like he's trying to insert himself into the j2 friendship to seem more relevant and likeable. And it seemed pretty clear to me that he is clinging to jensen and making it look like they are besties, ignoring jared or making him look bad as much as he can get away with only to fuel destiehellers in their belief that jensen also supports destiel and that jared is to blame for it not being canon. I've since found your masterpost about why you're anti misha, and finally feel justified in my feelings towards him, so thank you for collecting his shitty displays in one place.

So what my ask is about (getting to my point at last) is that in my browsing the anti misha tags I came across the anti danneel tag and decided to check it out out of curiosity (and arrogance, as I wanted to see if I was right about danneel as well, since I always got a bad vibe from her too (even though I never actually paid attentionto her)). And I did find some things that makes me think her and jensen's relationship isn't a healthy one built on mutual love and respect, and is possibly even abusive. I'm inclined to believe it not only because of my own instinct, but because of a video I saw where jensen's body language screamed that he is uncomfortable while sitting next to danneel who was rubbing/petting his back (though I don't have context for that clip so there might be another explanation for his body language that I'm not aware of). However the only 'evidence' about her being abusive was instagram posts that were (slight) jabs at jensen, that could just as likely be playful teasing as actual bullying depending on their relationship dynamic and whether the teasing is reciprocated imo (& there's no way of knowing how they interact in private so who knows). I'd be curious to know if there are more concrete instances of her treating jensen badly or generally being a bad person, but I couldn't really find anything useful in the tags.

But anyways, reading these posts I discovered yet another anti tag, this time anti jensen, which I definitely did not expect. I obviously know about The Winchesters drama but I thought they moved past it and are tight again, so I'm confused about what other reason there is for people to be anti jensen. I've seen some posts discussing him not standing up for jared/not being very supportive of him, siding with misha (though I'm especially sceptical about that one) etc.

I would like to be better informed about these things without having to watch hours of footage to analyse their interactions or read through hundreds of posts that either have some proof or not, without having to decipher whether what someone says is their opinion/interpretation or actual things that happened. From looking through some of your posts you seem to be well informed and trustworthy, so I'd kindly ask if you could explain the situation to the best of your knowledge or refer me to someone who has more information regarding danneel and jensen's relationship as well as jensen and jared's and can provide receipts. Thank you so much, and again sorry for this super long ask <3

Hello my darling.❤️ Nothing to apologize for.

@lightofraye recently posted an awesome anti danneel post with pics and videos. HERE

As for anti Jensen, for me, the prequel mess is a done deal. J2 have moved on from it and are besties again. I have the 'anti jensen' tag blacklisted. I really don't see him picking misha over ANYONE, let alone Jared.

Maybe @its-sassyboots @hologramcowboy or @walkergirlsposts can help you with the anti Jensen stuff.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Love this point so much. I find that in fandom spaces A LOT of the time female characters are dragged through the mud for no valid reason at all. When someone says “oh I don’t like (insert female character)” a lot of the time when asked why it boils down to “oh she’s a woman.” Don’t even get me started on the way men in the fandom treat and talk about Abigail “she nags John all the time.” Yeah…because he’s killing people and putting himself, her, and their CHILD in danger and before that was an entirely absent father. He needs nagged.

But in response to this sexism, people tend to come back hard on any criticism of female characters who have been victims of fandom culture, and a lot of the time, this turns into people boiling down very valid criticisms into misogyny and misogyny alone. It makes reading valid criticisms of these characters weird and makes you look for underlying messages of tones of misogyny. When I stated in my original post that I didn’t necessarily like Mary, I was a little worried that people would see that and assume I was going to go on a misogynistic rant or at least a rant with misogynistic undertones. I wasn’t, and my point at the end of the day was that the line of thought is hypocritical, and while I don’t believe she intended to harm or use Arthur, that was the outcome in the end, and she knew that.

Another person I see this with, not in RDR but in real life, is Taylor Swift. Has Taylor Swift been the victim of rampant and disgusting misogyny? Yes. Does that mean any and all criticisms of her are rooted in misogyny? No. But you see any time any criticism is brought up against her, it is framed as simple misogyny and nothing else.

Misogyny not only harms women in both real life and media but has now sort of taken the ability to talk about or criticize these female characters without people rushing to defend them. Rightfully so, we’ve seen so many arguments rooted in misogyny and not valid criticisms that it can make you defensive. I’ve been guilty of it myself. The amount of hate and trashing Mary got was entirely unwarranted, claiming her to be this selfish, manipulative mastermind who used Arthur because “that’s what women do.” Is a disservice to her complicated character.

She is a woman of the 1800s. She’s high society, meaning her whole life she was raised to be a mother, a wife, and a homemaker. Arthur could never give her the life she’s prepared for, not with the life he leads. Arthur would never leave his life for one like that at the time they were together. Mary is isolated; her mother is dead, and her brother and father are fairly useless at helping or supporting her. I don’t blame her for reaching out to Arthur the first time, but the second time I do, and it shows that even if unintentional, she used this lifestyle of his that she would never accept or adapt to further her own interests. I don’t think Mary is a mastermind manipulator or has any intention to use Arthur, but using Arthur was the outcome, and so it left a bitter taste in my mouth about her character.

I hate that misogyny has even now taken away the ability to talk about valid criticisms of women or women in media because we are all so used to having to jump to their defense because men love to hate women…just to hate them. There are so many complex female characters and it’s a shame that men and misogyny have ruined takes on them. We can’t have anything.