#jocelyn writes

[hornyjorny]

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮!

goro takemura x afab!reader. 18+, mdni plz, blowjob, top!takemura, sub!v, slight angst at the end?? also riding + creampie

“I need you, V. “

Fuck. 

He’s got you there. 

Goro-Fucking-Takemura, the cold and calculating ex-Arasaka operative, was a contradiction you couldn't ignore. Takemura represented fucking everything you possibly could’ve stood against— and now here you are— on your fucking knees, with Takemura towering above you, eyes furrowed shut as you tug away at his belt. 

How the fuck did you even get here? Shit, you just wanted to invite the poor fucker out to get hammered and just maybe, just maybe take a moment to relax from the city’s constant chaos. 

You’d made up your mind— and despite Johnny’s dissent, you mustered the courage to finally as the old fucker out for a night on the town. Afterall— he deserved it. You didn’t actually expect Takemura to say ‘yes’— but shit, you were thrilled. You ended up choosing a dimly-lit bar— and as you two sipped on your drinks, Takemura's rigid demeanor seemed to melt away, revealing a man who had been burdened by the weight of his past. 

And for once, Goro Takemura seemed content with the ways of the world.

As the evening continued to progress, the alcohol continuing flow, even fucking Johnny could sense the growing sexual tension simmering beneath the surface. With a sly grin and a fuzzy mind you suggested you two continue the night at your apartment, inviting him in for a night. Takemura hesitated, and his icy gaze locked onto yours. The unspoken tension hung heavy, and in a rare display of vulnerability, he nodded with a wolfish grin.  

And now here you are— gazing up at Takemura’s piercing icy eyes as you attempt to undo his belt, before chucking it to the floor below. He told you to kneel, so now here you are, perched between his knees like a bitch, following his every command. 

He’s so fucking cute, you swear it— his normally neat, pulled-back salt-and-pepper hair is now messy and frizzy. His cheeks are pink— and his pretty eyes immediately flutter shut when you tug down his pants, wasting no time in freeing his already hard member from his pants. 

Shit, does he take your breath away. He’s fucking perfect. 

You’re just barely able to wrap your hand around the base— he’s decently sized, not too big—just enough. He’s perfectly groomed, honestly just as expected, and his tip is already leaking against your hands. He sighs deeply for a brief moment— his fingers intertwining in your hair just for a moment— forcing you to look up into his cold stare. 

You say nothing. Your heart’s hammering in your chest as he just stares blankly, his lips slightly ajar, cheeks flushed pink. 

You finally muster the courage to place a kiss to his leaky tip, looking up into his piercing gaze. His pretty eyes flutter shut— and a soft groan exits his lips. Fuck, he’s cute. Before he can recover, you wrap your lips delicately around the head of his leaky cock. You can feel him shiver beneath you, his thighs shaking for just a moment. You lower yourself then, happily taking in more of him into your mouth before he hits the back of your throat. 

You swear you hear him faintly curse.

Your lips leave his cock with a lewd ‘pop!’ and a string of salvia connects your lips and his tip. 

Takemura groans deeply— the soft noises he makes just send waves of heated desire through your veins, which only fuels the fire that is your horny gonk-ass brain. Unable to help yourself,  your tongue retreats to him, licking up his shaft before placing a sloppy kiss to his leaky tip.

Goro looks down at you with such malice in his eyes— and it almost terrifies you as much as it excites you. Your lips continue to gently suckle at his reddened tip, before one of his large hands rises to hold your jaw, pulling you off of his cock by your hair with the other. He’s looming over you—his dark hair spilling over his shoulders as he glares down at you, icy eyes staring into yours. 

“Open.” 

His voice is hoarse— deep. And so you comply, you don’t think twice. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth upon his command. 

Goro’s left hand entangles itself roughly in your hair, using his other hand to guide himself into your mouth again, pulling a little weakened whimper from your lips as he pushes himself down your throat, slowly guiding himself in. Aww. At least he’s being nice. 

Drool smeared on your flustered cheeks, tears glittering among your lashes, and your lips trembled with each pant as you took him in when he breaches the back of your throat. His fingers tighten their grip on your scalp as he forces your head down until his girthy cock entirely inside of your pretty mouth. You look up at him—your jaw beginning to strain a little bit, and you blink up at him with widened teary eyes. 

For Takemura, there’s just something about seeing your cute face nuzzled all the way down on him, something about such a dangerous mercenary being such a fuckin’ compliant little toy for him. He loves it—whether he’d ever actually admit it aloud or not. 

“Good, V..”  he mumbles quietly, his nostrils flaring. 

You can’t help the quiet moan that escapes from your lips in response. You take him in again— feeling Takemura begin to shove you down, before he hits the back of your throat again. You pull back with a gag this time, your breathing heavy and spit dripping down your chin. 

Goro’s grip on your scalp tightens— before he pulls you down again on his cock, refusing to give you even a second. He guides his cockhead into your mouth, before bottoming out in the back of your throat. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You whimper against his aching cock as he begins to thrust into your mouth, fucking himself slowly in and out. “Mprrrrrmmmphhhh…” you groan against him, and at this point, a few tears have started to fall from your fluttering lashes, because fuck, Takemura was relentless. His hips thrust with a slow pace, but fuck, are they harsh. His metal fingertips dig into your scalp— and his deep grunts and occasional whispered curse only encourage your own arousal. 

As he continues to use you, you notice his hips are beginning to falter— his thrusts become more erratic, more unfocused, and through your blurry teary eyes, you look up at him— noticing his head is tipped back as he softly groans to the ceiling. 

But fuck, you can’t take it anymore. The slickness dripping from your thighs tells no lie— you need to fuck this man like you need to breathe fucking air. His throbbing cock in your mouth just isn’t enough— you need him. 

“Gorrrooooo…” You whine, noises muffled by him pulling you down to his groin. Fuck, he can’t resist your little begs and moans. He chastises himself internally for giving in, and he pulls you off by your hair— allowing his cock to pop out of your mouth. 

“What?” He glares down— teeth bared, eyebrows furrowed. It makes you shudder. 

“Wanna ride you..” You moan, pressing his wet cock to your cheek— looking up into his icy eyes as you press a kiss to the tip. “..Please?”

He towers over you for a brief moment, eyeing your quivering form below. You just look so fucking cute, salivia dripping from your lips and chin, face red, hair messy, on your knees— fuck. It takes him all he has to muster a response.  

“Not yet.”

You whine— and you’re regretting being so obedient for a moment, before he reaches down. pulling you harshly by your wrists, before ripping off his loose tie. He wraps the fabric around your wrists— tightly securing them, before hoisting you to your feet. 

“Now you may.”

You can’t believe your fucking ears. You immediately clamber into Takemura’s lap— wrapping your restrained arms around his broad shoulders. He’s so warm— the scent of his cologne is subtle, but god it fucking drives you insane. Your eyes trace from the black and grey hairs among his lower stomach, to his chiseled chest, to his cybernetic jaw, his scarred lips open slightly ajar in a pant. You lean in— your saliva covered lips grazing his. He leans back, his hands immediately trailing slowly down your body to lift up your hips. 

“Now, V.” He commands, and you obey. You position yourself above his stiff member, before allowing your hips to sink down. He angles his hips— and presses just the tip of his pretty cock in, before bottoming out in one swift movement. 

You’re immediately taken out— reduced to a whiny, moaning mess when he’s fully inside of you, and he moans back. Takemura remains still as you situate yourself, attempting to bring yourself back together after his initial entrance. He oh-so graciously allows you to rest your head in the crook of his neck, even though the tough metal poked into your skin. 

When he’s had enough of your panting, tired of your cunt clenching so deliciously around him, his metal fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips as he begins to rock your hips back and forth on his length, guiding your ass. 

“Fuck, Goro…” 

You moan, head pressed to the metal plating of his neck. You whine at the sharp smack he gives your ass, the stinging sensation vibrating through your body as he urges you to speed up. 

You swear you’re not usually this compliant. 

You’re fucking V. A fucking dangerous merc— the toughest of them all. And now here you are— moaning and drooling over Goro Takemura. It’s fucking laughable, but you can’t find it in yourseld to possibly disrespect or disobey him. He makes your heart flutter— makes your thighs clench together whenever he shoots you a glare. The least he deserves, and the least you deserve, is to let him have his way.  

Your hips crash into his, and for just a moment, time seems to slow around you. It’s a surreal moment— reddened neon lights frame your bodies, Takemura’s hair is splayed across his shoulders and back, sweat dripping down his face as he groans so so deeply, his fingertips digging into your hips as you desperately grind on him… it’s fucking insane. The room is basked in a sultry deep red, and it’s all but silent except for the lewd sloppy sounds of your wetness, and the pitchy, embarrassingly high moans you let out. 

You’re just bouncing on his length— he’s stuffing you full, and you just moan and whimper softly. You feel almost dizzy— your mind is fuzzy as he fucks himself into your tight hole with no remorse, and the stretch he made just felt so fucking good, you swear your brain’s on fucking fire. 

“You can take it, V.” He rasps, his hips ramming into yours. You’re beginning to lose the little strength you have left in your hips— he’s just too fucking good. Each hit comes to you like a shockwave— your mind beginning to simply malfunction from the pleasure alone. 

“I—ah—need..m-more..”

You whine, your tied hands still wrapped around his neck. He complies with a wolfish grin— using his right hand to reach up and cup your jaw. 

“More?” He repeats, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he forces you to meet his gaze. You nod as his icy eyes glare maliciously into yours. He’s fucking intimidating— he’s going buck-fucking-wild, his hips hammering up into yours as his fingernails leave scratches and red cresent-shaped marks, leaning foward to kiss your neck and collarbone to leave a masterpiece of blue and purple splotches. Who knew Goro Takemura could be so fucking dirty?

You can’t take it any more. You nod. The sounds of your sweet whines and moans for more echo off of the apartment walls, and Takemura lets out a little “s—shit” as he hits deeper, and the tight band building within your tummy is ready to snap at any moment. You’re truly just dumbfounded by him— dumbfounded by the sheer amount of pleasure and satisfaction he’s able to provide. 

Takemura can feel every fucking squeeze, every little defeated moan that reverberates throughout your body as he presses his lips to yours. It drives him insane— he’s needed reprise for so long. He’s needed this, needed you, just somebody— for so fucking long. 

And for in this moment, he wants for that to last. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when Takemura angles his hips particularly deep, and you nearly allow yourself to just fall limp in his arms as he fucks you through your stupor. The way you pant against his skin, drool starting to fall from your lips, it drives him insane. 

He uses his strength to hold you down on his cock as he buries himself deep inside, an occasional whimper escaping his scarred lips. And every time he does, it’s like music to your ears— causing you to clench even tighter around his girthy length. You feel completely full as his spit-glazed cock tenderly rubs against your walls, hitting and jostling against the best and deepest of spots. 

The thick head of his tip rubs so deliciously against your insides, you can’t help but to drool and whine. You try to place little kisses along his metal plating, up to his cheek— purely unable to help yourself. 

“Goro, m’ close..”

You’re barely able to utter the words, and he stares up at you with his icy eyes as your hips continue to crash and roll into his. A little semblance of a smile escapes him, and his fingers entangle themselves in your hair once more as his other hand guides your waist.

“I know.”

Your mouth falls ajar at his words, soft “ah-ah-ahs” escaping your saliva-covered lips as you gush onto his lap. His hips continue hammering into yours, his cock beginning to throb inside of your pulsating wals. The sound of your sopping cunt echoes of the apartment walls, along with your weakened high-pitched moans and his deep grunts. He almost loses his cool when your tight cunt seals around his cock when you cum, but he refuses to slow the battering of his hips against yours. 

“I’m not done yet.”

Jesus fucking christ, did this old man have some fucking stamina. More than you, apparently. 

It’s easy for him to lower you to the bed, his nimble form sliding over yours, towering over you once again. His hands reach for your ankles, pulling your legs over his shoulders as your slick and remnants of your own cum continue to drip onto the sheets below. 

Takemura’s cock twitched, and with a deep groan he came inside. He had shoved his cock inside of you so deep, letting it press against your cervix before his cum spurted out, thick, warm, and milky. 

You look down at your swollen puffy lips enduring his abuse before he ultimately slows and finally hunches over you— a loud moan escaping his lips as his cock pulsates and throbs inside of your walls, finally letting you have it all, filling your cunt with hot and creamy cum. 

“Thank you..” You sob, remnants of your makeup sliding down your tears in blackened streaks as he continues to dump his load inside. 

He finally collapses then—his body weight was pressed against yours, making sure to keep your pretty ass filled. Ever so delicately, Goro, he rolled his hips against yours as he came down from his high, his breathing was heavy and so was yours.  

Your brain practically short-circuited, all you could possibly think about was him. Goro, Goro, Goro. Everything about him drove you fucking insane. 

Takemura finally pulled out, his eyes tethered to your stomach bulge, gaze lowering to your oozing cunt, just observing his seed dripping down from your tiny abused hole, dripping down to the curve of her beautiful ass. Fuck, he swore you looked so fucking cute; all naked, tears down her face as you whimpered and whined still. Goro pulled back from your trembling body, his gaze still on your sopping cunt, with two fingers he pushed his cum back inside before shoving himself back inside his pants, buckling his belt. 

As you flop over, he swiftly removes his tie from your wrists, before slipping it back around his neck. You’re too fucked-dumb to think— you just lay on your side panting, completely taken aback at the situation. 

“L-Leaving so.. hah… soon?” You hiccup. 

The shadow of a man says nothing. He straightens out his collar and tie, before bringing his hair back in one swift movement. You lay there, just staring back at the handsome man in front of you. 

He leans down, his cold, icy eyes just inches away from your own. 

“This is just business, V.” 

He turns away, adjusting himself as he immediately exits your apartment. 

It was immediately what you expected. 

He wasn’t obligated to stay. You knew he would immediately leave afterwards. 

But you’ll be damned, it still hurt. 

You expected it, and yet your heart still ached when he shut the pneumatic door with a swipe of his thumb— leaving your body alone in the dimly lit red room. 

But that’s just business, baby.

[tiredandoptimistic]

Continuing my family tree project, today it's the Fairchilds!

I think this one might end up getting remade once A Sea Change comes out, since I'm guessing it'll give names to Charlotte and Henry's twins and possibly prove me wrong about Sylvain Allard being Matthew's endgame love interest. For now though, I'm happy with it.

Herondale

Blackthorn

Carstairs

Lightwood

[wikitpowers]

If you could have a spinoff of any group of tsc characters, who would you choose? (I’d personally want more ragnor, Raphael, and Magnus content bc the few scenes we got do the three of them in the bane chronicles were so funny 😭😭)

I AGREE THOSE CHARACTERS TOGETHER WOULD BE AMAZING AND I NEED A SERIES WITH ALL OF THEM + CATARINA!!!

other than those three though, i would desperately wanna see a kit, ash and kieran because they would just have such a funny dynamic i'm sure of it and i wanna see them in faerie and just vibing (with their love interests ofc😌)

ALSO THE CIRCLE MEMBERS!!! a series that shows us how the circle was formed and the uprising and everything! would be so cool to see michael wayland (i love that man) and robert and their chaotic energy and what they're parabatai bond was like for them, and then how maryse shifted the dynamic and young jocelyn and luke would be so cool to see, their friendship and growing up together *sniffs*

and i'm so interested in stephen and amatis's love story (+ céline's role in the circle and what her relationship with stephen was like) like that would be so cool ahhhhh GET ME THIS SERIES CASSIE PLS

[horizon-verizon]

Personally I take a show! Rhaenys as an affront against me.

The first time I read about dance, I was about 17? (and if I'm not mistaken I had only read until feast and I met her through world of ice and fire) And I thought she was the most impressive character in the entire book despite having such a small mention.It was incredibly important to me to have this woman who was overlooked simply for being a woman and supported the next woman who found herself in that situation faithfully, to the point that he died fighting for her and her claim.

There is an underlying idea that women of past generations who had been hurt, offended and overlooked said "no, you. You will succeed and I will help you." I found it incredibly beautiful, it was powerful, it was something I wanted in my life.

So when the show tries to eliminate this sonority *hurts* and I find it unforgivable.

Show!Rhaenys is mean to Rhaenyra, she failed and considers herself morally and intellectually superior to the rest of the women around her, but since she was never successful no other woman ever did.She sees the traps, she lived the traps and instead of telling the women who come after "just because it's hard and it's going to be bloody doesn't mean you should give up" tells them "you better not try it, give up because the cost is not worth it (although I didn't even try)"

Rhaenys' death in the show will lose all its meaning, because whatever the reason she dies, she will not be dying for the cause and archetypically that mattered.

Her death may be painful for those who like the character, but it will lack true weight, which is what matters when you tell a story, especially a story with a *message*.

I would dare say that in the original story Rhaenyra represents the symbol, the piece to be crowned or sacrificed.Alicent and Rhaenys are contrasts at two extremes.Alicent the woman at the service of the patriarchy who will sacrifice other women if it gives her some indirect power, Rhaenys, the woman who will fight against The Status Quo even if she is not the one who will embody the power she fights for.

I'm just saying that they took a simple story, with a theme and a message and characters that embody and build archetypes and transformed it into a 6 o'clock soap opera and I can't forgive them for that.I especially can't forgive them for what they did to Rhaenys.

Maybe responding to this post.

Rhaenys' death in the show will lose all its meaning, because whatever the reason she dies, she will not be dying for the cause and archetypically that mattered.

As you say, it will be those who always rooted for her or those who haven't really prioritized/clocked what Rhaenyra's story's significance as a anti-misogyny piece it was or want to be ignorant about how the unreliable narrators of F&B actually operate (I mean, this is the same woman who wanted to join her dad to battle the Myrish while she was trill pregnant with either Laena or Laenor...why can't she be the women who argued for them to burn down the Red Keep?!). What's infuriating, anon, is that some people will probabaly argue that you built up a false or very flawed and trussed up image of Rhaenys in your head once they learn abt you having been 17 when you read this...as if 17 year olds don't read far more complex literary work, and those with unreliable narrators all the time!!!

Ever since show!Rhaenys didn't kill the greens when she had the chance, the overall enthusiasm around her character has dropped and stayed steady, at least from what I've seen. Yeah it makes sense for her to not want to perform first blood and truely ensure a war...but then what was the whole point of her standing there for a few minutes on Meleys as if she were contemplating it? Does it really take that long to get to that logical point when you already have shown and acted to keep yourself and Baela out of the "g v b" business?! This is me taking the show's writing at face value/Watsonianly, btw. Yeah she doesn't want to possibly get herself accused of kinslaying...however, if Rhaenrya truly wishes to protect Baela and Rhaena's hold over Driftmark without the greens breathing down their neck and therefore undermining that rule...if that is her true primary objective...take one for the "team".

Because her primary objective is certainly not to "protect the realm" when she kills thousands of smallfolk instead of sitting in her room as a hostage and allowing the greens to try to pressure Rhaenyra to give up.

Anyway, she shouldn't have even stayed behind with her grandkids both gone back in episode 8. she's merely there so they can do that substance-less spectacle of a last moment in epi 8.

[muwitch]

It’s better this way. A little lonelier, but better.

[joycieillustrations]

Nine lines, Nine characters.

Thank you to @backjustforberena for the tag! I’ve gone with nine lines from a little oneshot WIP I have focused on Jocelyn and Aemon’s life together in the Red Keep - Ex libris has given me a lot of Jossy feels! Tagging @youleavethetardisbrakeson and @backjustforberena again because I know you have more AUs to share hehe

————

The golden-haired figure leans down - only slightly, for she is rather small and Jocelyn is an unusually tall thing, even at the tender age of seven - and smiles at her with delight. It makes her feel a little uneasy in her tummy: she’s not used to being looked at.

“Haven’t you grown, hāedus ñuhys!”

Jocelyn blinks, not sure what a hide-us-new-ease is.

“Look, Harys-”

A man, as tall as the woman is short, appears at her side and looks down at Jocelyn with vague interest: his face, like that of his companion, feels strangely familiar.

“Is this our Jocelyn? It cannot be, she is far too grown up.”

Her uncertainty fast melts away as the man and woman smile at her name.

“I am,” she insists with earnest, delighted at being recognised. “I am Jocelyn.”

[bitchycreatorbrett]

Looking for volunteers for an ilitw fan project

So, im working on a fan book called No Love Lost centering jocelyn and britney from it lives in the woods. (more info can be found here) It's pre canon, but some parts will be during or after. I originally started it as a powerpoint, but that wont work for everyone with the fonts, and choices wont really exist. Itll pretty much be a playthrough. So after this, i got frustated, because this was the easier option and it just ended up fucking me over. Now instead, ive decided to move this project to renpy to just have more flexibility and such. But ive also realized, this is no longer a one person project. Which brings me to the point of this post. I am trying to learn renpy, but theres only so much i can do on my own. Im also struggling with writing, coming up with ideas, pacing, order, etc. So im looking for anyone looking to help out who's skilled in writing and or using renpy, however renpy is my priority. You dont have to be a complete expert at renpy, but i certainly wouldnt complain. But if you know what youre doing at the very least, that is more than i can say. If you'd like to help out, please dm me or send me an ask if thats more comfortable!

[aces-and-angels]

WIP Wednesday

on a saturday- bc time ain't real 😗✌🏼 ty @starlight-starfury for the tag!

i've got a few that have been in the vault for quite a bit- might as well unleash them out into the wild. here's a few snippets for abel x mc, jocelyn x mc, and lincoln x mc:

---

abel x f!mc:

"Did she like the conchas?"

Abel had his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, his hands occupied with grading his latest batch of term papers. "Yes, Mercedes, she liked them," he chuckled faintly as he marked an error he found with his red pen. "How many questions are you gonna ask me?

"As many as I can think of! I can't believe you told Cesar that you had girl over before you told me," she whined.

"He called home first. And I did not 'have a girl over,' I just had a friend visit. That's all."

"At night," she added suggestively.

"She went home."

"But you wanted her to stay, didn't you?" She teased in a sing-song voice. He took one second too long to respond. "Ha! I knew it! You like her."

"I do not!" Abel felt his cheeks grow warm despite his protests. Suddenly, he was very thankful that they were talking over the phone. After a beat, he spoke again, his voice a touch softer than before. "But...What if I did?"

A high pitched squeal rang through his speakers, making him jerk his phone away from his ears.

---

jocelyn x f!mc:

“You really get up at 4 AM... to run?” Rowan stared at Jocelyn, perplexed. 

“Yep,” she answered plainly.

“Every day?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, taking a sip from her water bottle. 

“On purpose?”

“Burke, do you have a problem with how I spend my day?” Jocelyn spat out defensively. 

“N-no,” Rowan squawked, “I’m just- y’know, impressed.” 

She cocked an eyebrow at them. “Why?” 

“Most people don’t have that kind of discipline.”

“Most people are idiots,” she countered flatly. Rowan laughed at her dry tone. Jocelyn quickly turned her head away, but not before Rowan caught sight of her lip quirking upwards. “I, uh- I gotta get to class,” she muttered, slinging her backpack over her shoulders. “See you around, Burke.” She waved over her shoulder. 

“See ya,” Rowan mumbled, watching Jocelyn's hair bounce slightly with each step. 

---

lincoln x m!mc:

“You never went to prom?!” Rowan shrieked, his eyes wide with disbelief. A few heads turn in his direction at his sudden outburst. He shrunk back into his seat, mouthing ‘sorry’ to the disgruntled restaurant patrons. Clearing his throat, he lowers his voice to a more appropriate volume. “Why not?” 

Lincoln simply shrugged, unbothered. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I spent the last half of my senior year at a military school. They weren’t big on throwing social events. Or any events really.”

“Oh. I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth- he hadn’t meant to bring up such a sore subject. Especially not while they were on a date. The familiar weight of Lincoln’s palm on his cheek brought his eyes back to him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “It’s just one night. Now c’mon or we’ll miss the movie.” He slid out of the booth and offered his hand expectantly. 

With a small smile, he laced his fingers through his. “Alright, let’s go.” Hand in hand, they made their way out to his motorcycle parked out front. Like clockwork, they both slipped on their helmets and swung their legs over the seat. 

“Hold on tight, love.” Lincoln’s voice is slightly drowned out from the roar of the engine revving to life, but Rowan hears him just fine. Wrapping his arms around his frame, he pulled his chest tight against his back, relishing the warmth of his body. Only when he gave him a small squeeze did Lincoln pull out of the parking lot to drive to the theater. A comfortable silence fell between them, which allowed Rowan’s mind wander as the sounds of traffic faded from his focus.

Memories of his own prom night come up to the surface. Originally, he hadn’t planned on attending. But Amalia’s persistence was a very powerful weapon. He smiled to himself as he remembered how she all but dragged him to the mall to buy a suit. 

“No best friend of mine is missing out on senior prom. Especially not one who helped me plan the whole thing. Now go try this on.”

The punch was watered down, most of his song requests were ignored, and his suit was hemmed one inch too short. But he loved every second of it. For one night, he was a regular teenager; Someone who danced the night away with his best friend until they were both tired and sweaty. It was the first time since that day in the mountains where he really believed he could have a normal life too. 

Then his thoughts drifted to Lincoln, the man he truly adored. He was sweet...

“Oh!” A small yelp escaped from Rowan’s lips as he felt a pair of cold hands slide underneath his shirt.

“Sorry,” Lincoln chuckled softly, kissing his cheek multiple times but making no move to remove his hands. Instead, they wandered aimlessly over his bare chest as he continued to cook breakfast. His lips moved from his cheek to his jaw, then his ear, before finally seeking purchase in his neck. “You’re warm,” he mumbled into his skin. 

“And you’re distracting,” he teased affectionately, leaning into his touch anyways.  “You should be in bed.”

“Mm, you weren’t there,” he yawned. His nose nuzzled further into the crook of his neck. The stubble of his beard tickled his skin. “Can you make my eggs over-easy?”

“Already on it, babe.”

Supportive... 

It was 1 AM. A single lamp lit up the otherwise dark living room. Several opened textbooks were scattered on Rowan’s study table. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to focus on what he was reading. But finals week had him running on fumes, so the words jumbled together on the page into a haze of black and white. Groaning in frustration, he buried his face in his hands. The sound of something being set on the table caught his attention. 

“I made you some coffee,” Lincoln whispered, moving behind him to rub his shoulders. He let out a soft moan as his hands kneaded his tense muscles.  “How’s the studying going?”

“Terrible,” he complained. “There’s no way I’m retaining any of this crap.” The notes he had been taking got progressively sloppier the longer he studied. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to read his own handwriting.

“Don’t say that. You still have two days left.”

“But babe, I’m so behind. I can’t-”

“You can,” he cut him off before he could spiral any further. “You’ve been working non-stop for a week. You’re smart, capable, and you’ll do just fine.” His tone was sincere, absolute. Like he wouldn’t entertain any arguments. Rowan’s heart felt warm in his chest. Taking off a hand from his shoulder, he placed a tender kiss to his knuckles.

“Will you stay up with me?” he asked softly, holding his hand close to his chest.

“Anything for you, love.” 

Sexy...

Rowan’s eyes were glued to Lincoln’s muscles as he continued to deadlift weights in front of him. The veins on his arms had become more prominent, which only made them look more enticing. A tendril of sweat rolled down his face, dripping down to his sharp jawline. The low grunts he made each time he lifted his weights had Rowan thinking things that he shouldn’t while they were in the middle of a public gym. “Babe?” 

“Yeah?” he huffed, slightly breathless. He lifted up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, exposing the abs underneath. Another thrill shot through Rowan’s body. His mind was made up: he wanted him. Now. 

“We should get going,” he urged. Hastily, he packed their things into his gym bag and made his way over to the weight station. 

“Why? I thought you wanted to- mmph-” Rowan’s lips crashed into his before he could finish. 

“I just thought of another way we could get our workout in,” he whispered suggestively in his ear. A knowing smirk spread on Lincoln’s face.

“Lead the way, then.” He laughed as he eagerly dragged him by the wrist out of the gym. 

And made him feel just like he did on his prom night: happy. He only hoped he made him feel the same as he poured himself fully into every kiss, every touch, every I-love-you. But there was always some part of him that wanted to do more; something a little extra to make him smile the way he only did when they were alone together.

“We’re home.” Lincoln’s voice broke him out of his trance. He had been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized that they were no longer moving. 

---

passing the torch to @linkysmommy, @saibug1022, @lovehugsandcandy and anyone else who sees this and wants to air out some ol' wips 🖤

[requiesticat]

Writing more chapters for the Penumbra crossover fic as a warm up. Thinking I may split this into two parts, with SOMA being in the second half.

I like developing the dynamic these two have. In some moments, they got along well while in others they don't. Jocelyn is an OC I made a few years ago, but was repurposed for this story. Clarence acts as her ally in it.

[abelflints]

Pictures of You (ILW piece)

Basis: This is a little piece about the main cast and looking at some of their former friendships through photographs.

Characters: Jocelyn, Lincoln, Abel, Amalia, MC (non of them are mentioned by name.)

Word count: 500+

Warnings: some mentions of blood and dead people and mourning, chapter 17/18 spoilers, angst

A/N: This isn't formatted like a fic, but it's a form of creative writing.

Work is under the cut!

I need you to think about a photo of two best friends, ripped cleanly in two. I need you to think about the jagged-y white tear, serrating the shot of two lifelong friends into years of solitude. I need you to think about the contrast of the ruthless rip against the jovial smile on the soft-eyed friend's face, against the small-- but sturdy-- smirk on the others. I need you to think about the plastic-y tear of tape against teeth, echoing out across the dark, one tattooed arm steadying the roll as large hands work to seal the rift. 

I need you to think about blood-speckled polaroids pried from a dead man's hands. I need you to think about yet another two best friends, young and naïve and free, beaming on the paper in their silly little costumes and posed alongside the same face that now clutches the pictures in his death grip. I need you to think about now-mismatched eyes crumpling as they are handed the photographs that were pulled off of his father's lifeless body, gripped tight to him, even in death.

I need you to think about two parents on a once-glossen photograph, now pulpy and whited at the edges. I need you to think about the gridlines that score down the image, the wear and tear of years and years and years folded into a wallet and thumbed over and over and over by scarred hands, scratched by keys, cards, coupons, but always there, there, there.

I need you to think about an image of three not-friends, but somethings, one now dead, dead, dead, living on only in her head, head, head. I need you to think about the way the picture is warped and lumpy, stained with saltwater so, I need you to think about how she clutches it to her in a moment of weakness that she berates herself for, even now, as she ponders the what could have been, the if only, if only he had had a chance to be better, as she wonders if others will even deem him worth mourning at all, as she ponders if even she will be worth mourning at all.

And I need you to think about two lifelong friends, a man and a woman, hands linked from cradle to grave, twist of twine and twinkling beads round wrists that grow, and grow, and grow, time not one to slow, and slow, and slow, treats biting and sweet like so, and so, and so–

As years go by, and by, and by, and the roads before her fly, and fly, and fly, the picture of them nigh, and nigh, and nigh, her lungs breathing a sigh, a sigh, a sigh, the proof before her, stark, and stark, and stark, and you can try, and try, and try--

But you can't stop that that tear-filled cyan, shrink-shrink-shrink-shrinking by the second, shifting, shifting, shifting-- stranger-sidekick-sanctuary-- speck of a silhouette in her rear-view mirror (the eye, a lie, a lie, a lie.)

[wandixx]

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Chapters: 33/44 Fandom: Discworld - Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lord Downey/Havelock Vetinari, Downey/Others Additional Tags: let your dad die energy drink is a direct inspiration for my restarting this story, everything is a poison, it's the dose that matters, Family Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Classism, AM is an early modern city, and so the values/social norms reflect that, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, Downey POV, Significant Age Difference, between downey and one of his past Decisions, like. Significant., it's very very May-December, typical sex acts you'd expect in this sort of thing:, Anal, Fingering, Blow Jobs, etc. - Freeform, some slurs show up in a sibling fight, there's potential dub-con - depending on where one's personal line is drawn Series: Part 3 of coveting desperate things Summary:

After No More a Desolate Thing Downey and Vetinari are muddling through this thing called a ReLaTiOnShIp. Unfortunate segues into the past which runs parallel to the present occur namely because families are a sticky business, always, and things that happened thirty years ago have a strange ability to cycle back through your life. Oh, and there's been a death.

------

Obligatory Excerpt 

Jocelyn smiles—what a predatory expression. What a hungry wolf in winter look. Downey thinks he might have a thing for people who smile like a stiletto between the ribs whilst staring at him as if he were a particularly fascinating insect specimen. Vetinari does the same. As did one or two other past belles and beaus. ‘Can I be of assistance in any particular manner?’

‘Why?’

‘Because I have always had a fondness for you, you are the son of one of my oldest friends, and you are doing something that involves dubious interactions with the law. One of my favourite pastimes, historically at least. Therefore, please do let me know if I may be of use to you.’

Downey smiles, fully. Shakes his head, offers to get them some food, if Jocelyn would like. Jocelyn says he would, indeed, appreciate a small meal. Before Downey rises from the table a thought occurs.

‘Jocelyn. By any chance do you have spare clothes you’re willing to give up? You won’t be getting them back. But they might be useful for a small undertaking I’m in the midst of planning.’

Jocelyn sits back in the chair, laces his fingers, and smiles. ‘Oh yes,’ he purrs, ‘I do. Werewolves are a tricky business, aren’t they?’

Jocelyn, out here enabling Downey’s poor life choices. Also, in this chapter we get more breaking and entering! 

Vetinari: Why. Why are you encouraging him? We don’t encourage him. 

Jocelyn: You don’t encourage him. I think everything he does is fucking hilarious. Look at him go! Doing Crimes. Causing Problems. Love this. 

Vetinari: Downey, put your ex back where you found him. He’s not allowed to tell you that you have good ideas. 

Downey: Don’t know what you’re on about. I’m a genius. 

[horizon-verizon]

Im not sure if you watched ep. 3, but I feel like they’re utterly destroying Rhaenys’ character. Season 1 Rhaenys I liked, but this season she is already feeling so oddly out of character. The fact they made her defend Alicent to Rhaenyra is crazy to me.

Also Rhaenyra begging Alicent for peace?? What’s that about?

And Ulf being Baelon’s son pissed me off so bad. They could’ve chosen any other of Jaeherys’ children.

This episode is why I’m boycotting the rest of this show.

Haven't watched. And I don't have the desire to, either. Wrote about Rhaenys in these posts when others talked abt her recently: #1, #2, #3. Pointed out some in-HotD character inconsistencies, I believe, in the first linked post.

Answer to your rhetorical question: It's sexism:

Male Gaze and HotD -- xenonwitch

Essentialism in Pacifist Women v Violent Men - rhaenyragendereuphoria

Alicent, rhaenicent, Fascism, and Sansa Stans -- rhaenyragendereuphoria

Why Rhaenicent is so Popular -- me/rhaenyragendereuphoria

Excuse me anon, I'm taking this opp to rant again.

I mean, yeah, this is really just the show's MO and has been from the beginning, I just think people didn't really think about the implications of some of the changes they made and what they meant about how these writers saw the project they were creating so now they're caught by surprise at the stuff here. It's kinda understandable bc you just want to enjoy stupid drama sometimes. But I felt that it would inevitably travel towards interpreting the actual book/orig story itself bc people kept using the "two canons" and "F&B is a historical document w/biased/sexist writers" even when they did read the book....which shows how they didn't actually read the book or understand what the purpose of the unreliable narrators & how they are there to get readers to try to read between the lines as best they can and not take some things (not ALL things!) at face value. The book is presenting the reader with the opp to see how susceptible they are to propaganda and we are supposed to work through a process of battling the cognitive dissonance it creates and/or see our own biases while arguing how Rhaenyra DID NOT deserve her fate (Doylistically/exegetically). How greedy and violent men have over generations assured the demise of themselves in their exclusion of women. Sounds trite to those who don't understand the implications.

Which is parse out the truth as best you can, recognize patterns or deviations/inconsistencies (& think abt why those are there) from such to do so, understand the cultural and character context to understand the likelihood of that what Septon Eustace/Mushroom/Munkun/others all tell the version of an event the way they do. And, with any literary text, look to syntax, vocabulary, the use of some figurative language, tone, the mood the language sets and for what reason? That Rhaenyra likely sat the Iron Throne when she took back KL, that can't be denied. That she was bleeding bc she was "cursed" & "rejected", bc she was so "obviously" not worthy of the throne? That's what Septon Eustace wanted you to believe, just as he wanted people to not criticize Aegon for being with a 12 year old girl by saying "she was of good status to be a paramour".

Back to how people use this fallacious argument abt 2 canons and unreliability--I felt that people would use this to then argue that HotD was actually "revealing" mysteries and hidden truths of F&B/AWoIaF, and that was proven by how people think of the 3 eggs Dreamfyre laid that became Dany's dragons. Now you got people believing that they are Syrax's depsite how F&B makes it so damn clear they aren't. And so now you got people arguing for Baelon cheating on Alyssa the same way some were arguing for Rhaenyra to not be the person GRRM wrote her to be...karma keeps receipts.

This show is a money-making, marketing project that seeks to deny the sort of sexism-commentary F&B was actually doing or willfully misunderstands it and most lore in order to make bucks off a rich world. Because people in real life do not take sexism seriously, thus they do not know or care to understand the basic "woman=human" "idea". People even take pains to deny it at the same level or close to racism. It is the oldest form of discrimination...except maybe ableism?

The sooner people realize and internalize all that, the sooner they will not be disappointed by this show and be more interrogative of it.

Me, I chitter over the slowly accruing hatred for it on Twitter.

[likemosaic]

“ look at me… i’m not gonna make it. it’s okay, i’m fine with that. but… you can’t stay here. you’ve got a good long life ahead of you. and you’re smart, too; too smart to wait around here and waste that long life. so you get out of here, and you go live that life. live it for both of us. will you promise me you’ll do that? “ (from Deacon ;n;)

settling dust prompts / @asmodcus

brotherhood bullets whiz inches above their heads, clipping the edge of the bench they've used for cover. they're both as full of holes as a block of cheese, their blood mingling together on the tile beneath them. "charmer" doesn't look down at their right side, or think about the fact that they can't feel their leg or their arm anymore, or the warm trickling sensation down their face. they know they must look terrifying to deacon.

joss is sloppily reloading their gun with one hand as deacon talks--methodically, at first, but they slow to a stop when they realize what he means. joss can teleport to the institute and receive medical attention--deacon, on the other hand, cannot. the only person caught in this ambush, truly caught, is him. the horror of the idea of up and leaving him like this shows plainly on their face. "what? no. no way." joss has to put their gun in their lap to do it, but they reach over and hold his hand, palms slick with blood. they know deacon would never jump ship without them, were the situations reversed. but then, if this is it for joss, then what will happen to audra? shaun? their infiltration of the institute? joss' throat tightens. maybe that's what deacon's thinking, too.

joss's lips tighten, then wobble a little. but as they've become so good at since they woke up from the vault, the pain gets stuffed down inside in favor of something else: action. they start tapping at their pipboy, having to hit the buttons with their nose to make it work, their good hand still holding deacon's. "if this doesn't work, i'm coming back with help, so just. pretend to be dead," they say, fumbling their words, knowing that they may not live long enough to come back to do anything. they've never tried to teleport into the institute with anyone else in tow before, and if they're unlucky, deacon will be shot by coursers on sight--if he's not vaporized in the process. or worse, simply left behind to die on the cold, bloody floor while joss disappears into thin air. but they have to try. deacon would do it for charmer, if he had to.

joss tries to think of something to warn him about the impending teleportation and comes up short. then they hit the button.

[littleladymab]

i have fallen behind on drabbles..... don't even get me STARTED on oc kiss week drabbles.....

[livvyofthelake]

you know in a way. in a way. my redacted guys could be compared to um. well jocelyn and luke. in a way!!!!! i’m just saying shit