#never thought I'd write that sentence out

[cineresis]

Poet Simulator v1.0 (open beta)

At any time: when you think or hear a phrase with a rhythm that you like, write it down. (You may alter it later, but never erase.) Phrases, as well, with evocative imagery, impactful rhetoric. Make a list, or several.

This may constitute a poem – though probably not a good one. Play with a phrase – does it spark inspiration, alone or in any permutation? Consider each phrase. What makes you like it? How can you create such effects, or refine it?

Recall moments that changed you, stole your breath; ones you want to remember, or long to forget. Write, in stream-of-consciousness, each detail and feeling that struck you. Forget frippery like grammar, expressions, clichés; embrace your mother tongue new-born. Mark phrases that catch your attention for later, and write to the end. Add phrases to a list or poem; let your experience(s) inspire others, filling gaps.

As you permute your poem, consider its themes. What does it evoke? What do you want it to?

At any time: Record words you find beautiful, or otherwise evocative, impactful. Seek opportunities to use them.

But remember: Edit. Excise excess. Each word must be the best word for its purpose, perfectly placed.

Exactly 200 words according to 200wordrpg.github.io/wordcount and Google Docs, at least until the latter decided to parse "new-born" as one word instead of two. OK to archive offsite.

This arose from contemplation of how the specific constraints of poetry and 200-word RPGs engender similar effects on language and construction, particularly in terms of the final stanza. I'd fallen out of the habit of poetry-writing and was looking for ways to apply my usual framework more systematically; iterating sentence construction while holding it in my head long enough to write it down tends to result in my writing English in iambic meter, so the first mechanic I set down happened to match the rhythm of "If you're happy and you know it" – a useful mnemonic, one hopes, if not exactly high art. While I did briefly flirt with the idea of a self-demonstrating RPG by formatting it as a poem from the start to temper my natural verbosity, I figured that might be unbearably pretentious – only to realise, around the 170-word mark, that excising enough excess words to fit in the most important mechanics made the language read as unnatural unless I added line breaks to format it as poem. 

This was not so much playtested in the process of making it as written from experience, in hopes of making poetry more accessible to anyone who isn't as used to those habits of thought. I welcome input and critique on both the poetry and the delivery of the mechanics! It's certainly not up to a poetic standard that would demonstrate my credentials, but technical-writing requirements for comprehensibility and usefulness hold sway in this case.

Discussion questions:

Does this 200-word RPG constitute a poem? Is it a good one? Why or why not?

Can the bolded section headers constitute a poem in and of themselves? Is it better for excising the rest of the text? Would bolding the last three lines improve either poem?

Which words or phrases can be interpreted in multiple ways? What are all the ways they can be interpreted? Do you think that was intentional?

Why did the author use the word "permutation" instead of "combination"? Are the precision and multiple meanings of "permutation" an improvement over the clarity of "combination"?

Why has this game been labeled a simulator? Can an immersive simulation become reality? Would "Poet Emulator" be a better title, or would it suggest a gameplay mode too heavily involved in mimicking the style of published poets?

What does releasing this RPG as an open beta imply about it as a self-demonstrating example of gameplay?

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 4 - Lactation

For @veloursdor 💗

Nourish Me (Make Me Complete) - 1,513 Rating: E Content: Established Relationship / Lactation Kink / Mild Feminization / Mommy Kink / Mommy Issues / Nipple Licking / Nipple Play ' Character Study / Relationship Study

---

They shared a bond, unique to them and them alone.

It was special in ways that no one could really capture through words or expressions, the ties that bound them together knotted and tight, keeping them locked in one another’s orbits until it hurt to breath and swallow and sigh. One movement no matter how small, no matter how mundane, was felt by the other and held deep within, fussed over and examined until it could become a part of them as well. One love became their love, one pain became their pain, one sorrow became their sorrow, and so too their joys and successes.

But despite the tightness at which their bond was fused, the depths at which it went; despite the heartache and the ecstasy, the losses and the triumphs; despite knowing each other in all ways that a person could know another, despite it��all there was something… lacking. A missing piece that couldn’t be found, a sour note that couldn’t be tuned, a moment that couldn’t be righted.

Because no matter how hard Obi-Wan tried, no matter the depths of his love for his boy, he couldn’t be her.

He couldn’t be Anakin's mother.

He couldn’t be the woman who had housed him in her body, grown him, nourished him, shared a heartbeat. He couldn’t be the woman who Anakin had shared a body with for nine months, tucked deep within and protected in a way that no one else could protect. He couldn’t be the woman who had held him when he was so very small, comforted him in a way that only a mother’s touch could, brushing away tears and fighting back the terrors of the world with a gentle kiss across a small brow.

Obi-Wan was Anakin’s mentor, his brother, a father in many respects. He was his friend, his companion, his lover. He was everything save for that one blindingly important thing:

He could never be his mother.

Though he tried. Desperately, shamefully he tried.

Caught up in the hunger and the ache he would seek Anakin in the darkness of their bond, dragging him close and laying him in his arms, cradling him against his body and asking - begging - for him to feed.

He knew it was shameful; knew that he was trying to replace a person who could never be replaced. And yet he continued with it because it felt good, and because it sated a piece of himself that he never thought would be filled. Anakin’s head cradled in his arms, his body laid across his chest, mouth hot and tongue wet along the hardened numbs of his chest, seeking for a sustenances that would never come no matter how Obi-Wan tried.

Their bond hummed in those moments, both falling into a sense of calm that made Obi-Wan’s heart squeeze and guts warm. With hands both demanding and tender along the back of Anakin’s skull and the curve of his spine Obi-Wan would hold him close, demanding Anakin perform an act that had once been between mother and son. Sacred, in many ways. Now made both base and exalted by a weak man who needed everything from his boy despite the Code and despite his morals.

The first time he’d asked Anakin, Anakin had been curious and demure, his hands at first hesitant across Obi-Wan’s chest before they turned greedy, his touch brutal as he squeezed and fondled and pinched, cheeks pink with embarrassment and lust as he ducked his head and suckled.

The second time he’d asked Anakin had rutted into the bed as he pretended to drink, hips rocking as the profane act of consuming a mother’s milk swirled with the sexual, Anakin’s desires for Obi-Wan in all ways he could have him bleeding over until Obi-Wan’s own cock strained and spilled against his belly, and he was forced to grapple with the inherent erotic nature of having his Padawan feed from him, even if it was just a pantomime.

It had taken Obi-Wan only a month to brush aside the feeling of black bile that coated his insides, and to once again beg for the intimacy he knew he shouldn’t crave.

It wasn’t always a part of their life. Most of the time they would seek each other out for other forms of connection, searching for one another in the slip-stream of the Force or in the physical reality that dictated most of their lives, tangling up both in body and soul and sharing in an affection that was more unique to just them. But then the desire would come surging back up like the swell of the tides, unending and demanding to be listened to.

There was no shame in the request now. Obi-Wan would pull Anakin to his room, shed his tunic, and lie amongst the pillows waiting for his darling boy to join him. Anakin, with eyes that were no longer downcast and a blush that no longer spread due to embarrassment, would climb into Obi-Wan’s arms and settle his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s arm, one hand rubbing and kneading Obi-Wan’s soft peck while his lips would seek the other, tongue soft and hot across the thatches of hair and the smooth skin beneath, searching and teasing until he would latch on and pretend to drink.

His eyes would always close, golden lashes fluttering against high cheekbones, bronzed skin flush with excitement and joy. His lips, so soft and red, wrapped perfectly around Obi-Wan’s nipple, tongue swirling around to harden the nub before he could begin to suckle. The sensation of it was beyond anything Obi-Wan had experienced; the intimacy mixed with lust, of Anakin pretending to feed from him as he would his mother, taking in nourishment that didn’t feed the body but rather their bond.

An misbegotten, dangerous bond that required more and more from both of them, greedy in its taking and just as bountiful in its giving.

Eventually the pleasure would give way to a swell of pain, Anakin’s sucking turning into biting, his teeth sharp across the meat of his peck and his hardened nipple. Obi-Wan would tug Anakin away then, only for Anakin to paint a spit-slick journey across his chest to the other peck. Body cradled in Obi-Wan’s lap and arms, Anakin would resume his pantomime with the other nipple, suckling and biting, lips hot and sticky, tongue firm and wet, breath laboured and desperate as they pretended for just a moment that Obi-Wan was Anakin’s everything.

As he rested in Obi-Wan’s arms Anakin would get hard, as he always did. Obi-Wan would be caught between watching the almost innocent expression of Anakin’s face - peace and tranquility mixed with a need so primal it was written in their DNA - to the base and carnal expression of desire that rested between his legs. His cock would harden with each suck and kneading of his hand, swelling until the foreskin pulled back and the length rested across his belly. Precome would stream out like milk, thick and salty, coating the hairs at the base of his cock and the unmarred skin across his stomach.

Eventually Obi-Wan would give in and touch Anakin, his hand wrapped firm around his cock as he continued to cradle him with his other arm, locking him in place as he stroked Anakin, playing with the velvet foreskin before pushing it down, exposing the ruddy red cock-head that glittered beneath the low light. Anakin would hump up into Obi-Wan’s touch, his lips and teeth more demanding as he moaned around Obi-Wan’s abused nipple, suckling and biting.

Sometimes Anakin would pull away only to push Obi-Wan down onto the bed, legs straddling his chest as he pushed his pecs together and slipped his cock between the shallow trench. Other times he would come just as he was, held in Obi-Wan’s arms, brows furrowed and cheeks a dusty pink as he rushed toward completion, cock spilling out ribbons of milky-white sustenances while he continued to feed, mouthfuls of Obi-Wan’s peck in his mouth as he sucked and sucked, as if he tried hard enough Obi-Wan would finally be able to give him what they both craved.

And then Anakin would relax, expression softening as he nuzzled into the crook of Obi-Wan’s arm. A shared breath of release would fill the room as another desire was sated, another need seen to.

It wouldn’t last, of course. Eventually the desire to be something more to Anakin than everything he already was would reach up into Obi-Wan and hold. His heart would stutter, his guts clench, his throat constrict as the reality of all that he was lacking would set in. And then he would seek Anakin to fill that desperate part of himself that needed to be everything to him. That had to be his mother, his father, his brother, his lover.

But it was never enough.

[kaitlyn-pink]

Do you think the summoners kiss eachother? Ty!

The council is judging you.

But uh.. I don't think so.. I'm pretty sure we'd all get into a full on brawl before we make out with each other

(some people prefer hugs more, some don't like physical touch including mine- also some are unsafe to kiss like they'll bite your lips off. im looking at a few of you- you know who you are.)

I cant speak for others BUT my girl wouldn't unless she has a soft spot for you. And then it's on the forehead like a mom totally not because its all she can reach- but it's like a 2% chance.

[medicinemane]

Sometimes it's like... is this person just... a very slow typist... or are they really choosing their words and adding and deleting a bunch of stuff

(this is obviously about seeing people respond on discord and then seeing the message they typed compared to when they started typing it)

[charlotteking23]

Pairing: Lando Norris x bride! reader

summary: they are getting married and Y/N surprises Lando by having a nap scheduled into their wedding day 🤭

Requested: yes anonymous

Warnings: Lando being horny and first time writing social media au.

You sat outside the balcony taking in the light breeze and sunny weather. On your lap lay your laptop, which overflowed with a million events for your perfect dream wedding.

Looking at all the events, you made space for an hour's nap. You knew that wasn't enough to keep you awake, so you could only count on coffee.

But nonetheless, you were looking forward to getting married to the love of your life Lando.

It was no secret you had both been head over heels for each other especially Lando.

You decide to go inside after looking at all the food you were to serve to the guests.

The apartment was open with a nice large kitchen and a big living room with a TV, covering the walls and shelves were some of Lando's achievements in F1.

You watch as Lando appears on the other side of the living room before giving you a hug.

"Hey, baby...were you working on the wedding?", Lando said before taking the laptop out of your hand and setting it on the table beside him.

"Just some final touches", you shrug before sitting on the couch.

"Can I see", Lando grinned taking the laptop already. You only nodded in response watching him open your laptop.

You watch his green eyes scan over the laptop in concentration, making sure to get every detail about the schedule.

"hmm...Baby what is this hour nap time", Lando pointed at the laptop in confusion.

"Oh Lan, you know how I love my sleep," You said laying down on his lap as he moved the laptop a little so it didn't hurt you.

"Yes baby", he smiled.

"Well, I needed my nap time," You said closing your eyes.

"During our wedding", Lando laughed at the schedule, which only made you annoyed.

You sat up quickly, "Yes Lando, I must have the nap time unless you want me to be cranky". You looked away mad at Lando laughing at you.

"Sorry for laughing, but now you are my baby", Lando smiled but it only confused you.

"What...What do you mean??", you said questioning his weird sentence.

"Because a baby needs nap time so I can call you baby wife", Lando laughed at your mad face.

"It's not funny", you said before grabbing the pillow from behind you and throwing it directly at Lando's face.

Only for him to throw it back at you and that's how the pillow fight started with you and Lando throwing pillows at each other before, breaking out in giggles with you both on the floor tired and a mess of pillows around you.

liked by Landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 1,938,267 others

yourusername: officially Mrs.Norris 🧡

View all 10,864 comments

Landonorris: My beautiful, amazing baby wife

yourusername: Stop calling me baby wife but I love you>3 Landonorris: Never, Love You too❤

Landonorris: you could beat me up and I'd thank you

Danielriccardo: SIMP 🫵 User1: Stop their so cute

Landonorris: WOOF WOOF

Oscarpiastri: Congratulations, good luck with Lando

Landonorris: I thought we were friends

User2: Can Lando fight

carlossainz55: no he can't Landonorris: stop telling everyone I can't fight Carlos carlossainz55: but it's true mate

User3: I don't want Lando, I want Y/N

User4: I want both

Yourfriend: Congratulations!!

User5: Mother is Mothering

alexandrasaintmleux: Loved being your bridesmaid wishing you both a happy marriage, love you 🩷

Yourusername: love you too 🩷>3 Landonorris: what about me charlesleclerc: 🤔🤔🤔

Kellypiquet: Looking so beautiful, P loved being the flower girl 💐

Yourusername: thank you and P was so cute 🥰

liked by yourusername, McLaren, Oscarpiastri, and 3,987,478 others

Landonorris: To my perfect wife, you make my life complete and put up with my bullshit and I cannot wait to love you forever and ever.

And Yes that's a picture of Y/N sleeping on our wedding day ❤️

View all 12,531 comments

Yourusername: Awww Lando WTF is this, I told you that was my nap time. 😴

Landonorris: Hehehehe

Mclaren: Congratulations and Lando leave Y/N alone

liked by yourusername

Landonorris: But she's my baby wife

Username6: Ms.Rabbit has fainted

Username7: Ms.Rabbit has fainted again.

Username8: LOVE THE DRESS

Username9: THEY ARE SO CUTE!!!

maxfewtrell: Congratulations Lando so happy to be your best man and prayers for Y/N for being able to deal with Lando.

Landonorris: What do you mean, I am an absolute angel 😇 Username10: LMAO Lando and Max

Charles_leclerc: Congrats Mr and Mrs Norris.

Yourusername: You were only invited because of Alex

Liked by Alexandrasaintmleux

Landonorris: It's okay Charles, Y/N's only jealous of our relationship 👨‍❤️‍👨 Carlossainz55: What about us! Did our relationship mean nothing to you 😭

Username11: Best Couple award goes to the Mr and Mrs Norris

Username12: HOW DOES SHE LOOK SO PERFECT EVEN WHEN SLEEPING!!!

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, and 976,453 others

Yourusername: DJ Norris in the house!!🔥

View all 9,572 comments

landonorris: who is that handsome fellow your kissing, he's looks so fine 🫦

Yourusername: 🙄

charlesleclerc: My eyes, keep it pg there are kids here

maxverstappen1: yeah you 🫵

Username13: how much alcohol was digested for Lando to act like that

danielriccardo: Lando always acts like an idiot Mclaren: I feel bad for Y/N Landonorris: WTF

Landonorris: My baby WIFE looks so hot, my god I want you right now!!

Landonorris: break me, use me, please

Oscarpiastri: Zac said you are banned from using social media

Landonorris: you looked so sexy, baby 🥴

Oscarpiastri: I am scarred for life now Yourusername: look what you did to our poor child charlesleclerc: he's my child, I adopted him Yourusername: Not anymore!! 😒

Username14: Lando is so funny

Username15: And the horniness continuous

francisca.cgomes: Girl you look hot, LUVE YOUU!!

Yourusername: LUVE YOU TOO!!! 🩷

liked by Yourusername, carlossainz55, and 2,628,765 others

Landonorris: Don't worry guys I got my phone back from Mclaren 😄. If anyone was wondering Y/N is fine but she passed out in the middle of the road, way past my baby wife's bedtime😴.

View all 15,382 comments

Yourusername: I'm just a girl 🎀

Landonorris: 😒

danielriccardo: Photo creds where?

Username16: Only Y/N would do this

Username17: She's love's her sleep Username16: probably more than Lando

maxverstappen1: I'm surprised Lando can carry Y/N

Landonorris: I am strong 💪 carlossaniz55: sure mate sure

Username18: seeing Lando being made fun of by Carlos and Max is hilarious.

Username19: Y/N passing out on the road was not on my F1 bingo

Username20: it was on mine

Yourusername: I told you to stop calling me baby wife

Landonorris: but it fits you so well 🥺 Yourusername: really are you making that stupid pout again Landonorris: No.....Yes, pleaseeeeeeeeeeee!! Yourusername: Ugh fine 🙄 Landonorris: good because your name is officially Baby Wife Norris 😁

Username21: giggling and kicking my feet seeing how cute they are😊

Username22: I am too single to be here

Landonorris: OH MY GOD

Landonorris: I want her to wrap her legs around my head😫

Mclaren: LANDO, we have a meeting tomorrow about you getting PR trained! Landonorris: oops hehehe 😁

[waffliesinyoface]

im going to do a full dark megaman playthrough for this run of BN4 to make it more enjoyable. I just hit Netopia Area, which has a chance of dropping Static *, one of the exclusive darkmega chips, from in-battle GMDs. 

Netopia is. not. being helpful about actually spawning said GMDs.

I’ve only gotten a couple, and while some of the rewards have been nice (I just started using V-coded chips and it gave me Magnum V), most of them have been like. “2 bugfrag”. Which is not helpful.

This is, apparently, the only place in the game you can get Static *. The only other location for Static period is one shop in the undernet, in a terrible code, for 16000 zenny (in a game that hates giving you money).

Do I need it? Not really. Am I using primarily darkchips anyways, rendering much folderbuilding kind of irrelevant? Yeah. Will my gamer’s desire to store any and all useful things into the inventory allow me to rest until i’ve gotten four of the things? Hahahaha not fucking likely.

This is the real reason hisgby joined the WWW in the first game!!!!!

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[familyvideostevie]

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

--

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

__

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[auroreliis]

Honestly if I was batsis I'd pretend to have a crush on the batboys close friends(excluding Damian because he and Jon are still babies) just to annoy them. Jason bring Roy over? Suddenly I'm very interested in his tattoo's and I want to know all about archery. I catch kon in the kitchen in Tim? Suddenly i'm very into the conversation they're having and am making eye contact a lot with Kon. I feel liked they'd do something like this; Batsis: You know I really like your tattoos. Roy: Oh thanks. Jason: ... You gotta go, like, now. Roy: What-

Brilliant, anon!! What a great idea!! This was very fun to write :)

(don't mind the spelling mistakes please lol. i am tired out of my mind)

For starters, when Bruce first introduced the members of the Justice League to you (it took a lot of convincing), you just couldn’t help but flirt with them.

I mean, just LOOK at Aquaman. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you felt a spark. He hadn’t noticed you staring, but surely he had felt it too. Bruce, however, had noticed you staring. He didn’t seem particularly amused, almost as though he saw you daydreaming about your wedding with Aquaman. Just when you were making your way over to them, Bruce scowled and swiftly led Aquaman away. After that, you never saw him ever again…

Or that one time when Green Lantern came over. Wow. What a man. You didn’t waste a second walking up to him and introducing yourself. The giggles you were suppressing nearly slipped out after you saw Bruce’s eye twitch. Green Lantern entertained your advances, though you knew he wasn’t interested in you. Whenever Bruce started with his, “Hal. We should leave”, you would always interrupt him with more questions directed at Hal.

“So…do you like pasta? I’m actually really good at making it. You should come over, you know? I could treat you!” You all but winked at him.

Hal found it very interesting, don’t get him wrong, he thought you were very funny, but when Bruce is standing right there beside him, he felt…intimidated. So intimidated, in fact, that he can barely reply to your questions.

“Oh…um…” he nervously glanced at Bruce. “Green. You know what, kid? Your father and I have some business to attend to…so…see you next time. Good luck with the um…yeah, never mind.”

Hal sped off, leaving you and Bruce alone. You had been in the mood to laugh until your father turned to you with a serious expression. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to laugh anymore. To put it simply, it was a clear warning: Don’t do it again, his look communicated.

Now, Constantine, he was fun to hang around with, likely because he isn’t as scared of Batman as the rest is. And also, he’s hot. “You are so cool, honestly. It’s really impressive how often you’ve escaped death”, you leaned against the wall. To be honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying, all you needed to hear was his strong English accent and little sprinkles of humor.

After some bribery, you had gotten Tim to tell you that Bruce was most concerned about you meeting Constantine. For some reason, you figured…

“So…I like older men, what about you?”, you batted your eyelashes at him. You didn’t have Bruce in your periphery, as you were focusing on John, but you could imagine him shaking in fury.

“Yeah, I like older men too”, he replied nonchalantly. Dammit, he got you. Well, he was a funny guy.

Bruce seemingly relaxed at that, but that’s not to say that he was satisfied with the interaction taking place. “You’re funny, are you single-”, you could barely finish your sentence before Dick dragged you away to spend time with you. Though, you believe that Bruce asked Dick to get you away just so you couldn’t talk to Constantine like that.

Bruce had way too many attractive friends. Well, almost all his friends were attractive: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash…hell, even Martian Manhunter. I mean, he can read minds! Just imagine the potential…

“So, I heard you can read minds. Read mine right now”, your grin was…suspicious. Bruce couldn’t read minds like J’onn could, but he could imagine what you were thinking about. No, actually, he didn’t want to imagine it.

“J’onn.”, Bruce, ever so stern, called out and gestured towards the door. The J’onn in question had merely walked off in that direction silently, as though having understood Bruce’s point from one word. Martian Manhunter hadn’t read your mind that day, to your dismay. However, you had managed to make Bruce uncomfortable, so that was considered a win.

Dick himself had very attractive friends. Wally West, quite the flirt, was among them. Though, oddly enough, you had imagined him to be more flirty. It couldn’t be that Dick took a page out of Bruce’s book and told him to watch it, right?

“So, you’re fast, huh?”, you looked Wally up and down. “I happen to be”, Wally glanced at Dick.

“Okaayyyyy, Wally, you should leave”, Dick spoke with a strained smile.

“Yeah. Oh, by the way, what about the-”

“Now.”

Wally looked around awkwardly, “…right.”

And Raven—what a woman. Plus, Cyborg and Starfire filled your thoughts. Though Wally was the first and last friend of Dick’s you ever saw. A pity. He seemed to have learnt his lesson…

Now Roy Harper, Jason’s friend, was quite something. Tattoos? Archery? Hell yeah.

“Wow, so you like engineering books? Well, the manor has a huge variety. You should come by more often”, you smiled innocently.

“Um, actually, he will NOT be coming over ever again”, Jason frowned at your words.

“Why not?”, both you and Roy turned to Jason.

“BECAUSE I said so”, you and Roy made eye contact awkwardly.

“You”, Jason points at Roy, “Get out.”

“What? But you said you needed my he-”

“NOWWWW. Do NOT make me repeat myself.”

Yeah, Roy leaving was more awkward than anything else that had happened so far.

Jason didn’t have that many friends, as far as you knew at least. In other words: You would never see Roy ever again…

Now Tim, being charming himself, had many attractive friends.

For starters: Conner Kent.

You hadn’t had much contact with the Kents, however Conner had come over a few times. And wow. Despite being overly confident (and often obnoxious), he was very, very attractive. However, you have never talked to him. The reason? Tim makes sure he keeps you at arm’s length. In fact, you’re not sure you could ever find a way to interract with Tim’s friends…unless…

“Hey, Tim!”, Jason called out, “Bruce says you need to go to the cave right now.”

“What? But I have guests over…”, Tim eyes Jason suspiciously.

“I mean, if you wanna get in trouble with him, be my guest”, Jay raised his hands defensively.

“I-…fine. Conner, just a second, I will be right back. DO NOT move”, Tim sighs.

After Tim left, you shot Jason a thumbs-up and went to mingle with Superboy.

“Good evening. You must be Conner. I’ve heard a lot about you from Tim”, you say, taking it slow.

“Good evening! Hopefully you only heard good things!”, he grins.

“Oh, plenty of good things. Say, if you really can fly, then why don’t you take me for a ride? I haven’t ever seen the sky from…well, up in the sky”, you copied his grin.

“Ah, well, I would, really, but I’m not sure how Tim would feel, you know? I mean, he’s a bit of a-”, Conner started.

“A bit of a what.”, a new voice shocked the both of you.

Tim. Where the hell did he come from?

“I though I told you to leave if they started talking to you?”, Tim ignored you, only focusing on scolding Conner.

“Well, that would’ve been incredibly rude…”, Conner struggled to defend himself.

“You.”, Tim turns to you.

“Me?”, you said, though you weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Yes, you. What’s the big idea? Why did you pull that just to talk to Conner? I don’t know what you have planned, but forget it immediately. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Bruce to reinstate the therapy sessions. Then you can explain to him why you enjoy sabotaging others so much.”

That was, quite frankly, terrifying. You hadn’t been this scared of Tim in a while.

Well, safe to say you won’t be doing this again…

[little-hermit-crab56]

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

[comically-callous]

I'd like to request ROUGH Logan and reader with healing power the same as his, so scratching, slappingg and squeezing anything harshly is okay

Baby’s first time posting smut. I’M SCARED….

Logan Howlett x fem!reader with regenerative healing

Warnings 🚨: Smut, enemies to lovers kinda, reader and Logan have a screaming match, reader and Logan get rough with each other, biting, scratching, etc. car sex, implied age gap for like one sentence, unprotected p in v sex, that’s it I think. Tell me if I missed anything.

A/n: y’all I am too nervous about posting this. It took me a while to write, but I’m happy with how it turned out. Requests are open!!

Logan thought of himself as one of the key assets to the X-Men. Adamantium claws and regenerative healing were nearly an unbeatable combination against anyone. He prided himself on that, and that’s why he didn’t like you. When you joined the X-Men with regenerative abilities that very much mirrored his, it made Logan feel less special, almost weaker in a way. He’d never admit it. That would only make him feel even more weak. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake. Why was he upset over something so trivial? He never thought on it for too long, and just continued to loathe you.

Well, tried to, at least. After the first few weeks of you being on the team and living in the mansion, his dislike for you began to be accompanied by something else, something he refused to acknowledge. But, he could feel it. Anytime your bodies got close, anytime his eyes lingered on your figure for a moment too long and his thoughts shifted from negative ones to ones of desire.

It only made him dislike you more.

The world always seemed to work against him and his conflicting feelings for you, forcing him to spend time with you, to be close to you, and this time was no different.

Logan tried to completely ignore the fact that you were in his van with him. Charles had made this a habit, pairing him with you for missions, forcing the two of you into close proximity. It pissed you off. Didn’t he know that Logan hated you? Sure, you guys were supposed to be on a team where you worked together. But, that didn’t mean you had to like each other.

You distracted yourself with a lighter that you’d found, flicking the cap open and watching the flame dance before closing the lid and repeating the process.

“Put that down”. Logan said after the first couple flicks of the cap.

“Why?” You asked.

“Cause it’s mine, and I told you to.” Logan said, suddenly taking the lighter from your hands.

You scoffed. “Alright, sorry.” You crossed your arms and shifted away, turning to look out the window at the thick forest the van was parked in. You were only able to sit in silence for a few minutes before your overwhelming boredom made you speak again. “Where are they?”

Logan huffed. Why couldn’t you just be easy to deal with? “You think I know?”

A stake out was essentially what the two of you had been sent out to do. But, the people you were looking for were nowhere to be seen and it’d nearly been an hour since they were supposed to arrive.

“I’m getting bored.” You complained.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Logan seemed to be getting more agitated by the second.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything. I’m just saying I’m bored. This is boring.”

“Be bored in silence. Please.” He gritted out.

You sighed. “Or we could talk without arguing for once.”

“Not happening.”

God dammit, he was impossible. It was like every time you tried to lower the barrier that had formed between the two of you, it only got higher. You had to bite back a groan of frustration.

“Did I do something?” You finally asked, gathering the nerve to ask the question that had been on your mind for a while now. “Like, something to make you not like me?”

“Yeah, you joined the team.”

You took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. “You’re such an asshole.” You mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Logan perked up a bit and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re an asshole, Logan.” You repeated. You didn’t care about how nice, or, cool, or calm and collected you sounded anymore. If he didn’t try to be civil, then why should you? “I’m fine with you not liking me. Honestly, I don’t care. But, it’s the fact that you make sure I know you don’t like me. You’re a fucking jerk, Logan!”

Logan’s eyes trailed over your body, gaze filled with judgement. “You’re not exactly a saint yourself, sweetheart.”

You scoffed. “Really? What have I ever done to you? How did I hurt you? Please, enlighten me. Tell me what I did that was so wrong, so that we can-“

“Why does it matter so much to you?!” He snapped.

“Don’t interrupt me, you asshole!”

The two of you began to scream at one another, voices getting louder and louder in an attempt to drown out the other’s, until the both of you finally ran out of the strength to continue, left in only the sounds of one another’s heavy breathing.

“Would you please just tell me….” You were still trying to catch your breath and had to pause. “Just tell me what I did that made you hate me? Please.”

Logan took a long pause and looked at you like he was searching for something. He finally spoke. “I don’t have to tell you any-“

“God dammit, Logan!” You grabbed him and practically pulled him over the center console. “What is wrong with you?!”

Logan didn’t respond, his eyes widened slightly at the sudden display of strength and his eyes flickered across your face. His expression was one you’d never seen on him before (let alone directed toward you). For once it wasn’t anger, or annoyance, or hatred (though, you could still see remnants of all of that etched into the crevices on his face); it was something softer.

You thought you were making things up, and for a long moment the two of you just stared at one another, both searching for something.

You were the first to break the silence.

“Logan, what’s the matter with you?”

He peeled his eyes away from you, seeming to try and harden his gaze again. “Don’t know….. You just-“ He huffed. “I just have…. Conflicting feelings about you, alright?” He said the words quickly as if maybe that way you wouldn’t hear them.

“Conflicting feelings?” You repeated. “Care to elaborate?”

He looked at you for another moment, gaze falling to your lips, instinctively your tongue darted out and wet your lips.

That’s when he dove forward and his lips crashed into yours. It was thrilling, rough, passionate, fiery. Everything you’d expect from a kiss with him. Logan groaned into the kiss, hands going to grip at your waist as yours tangled into his hair. He tried to get closer, grunting in frustration when the center console got in the way. Breaking the kiss for only a moment, he put his seat back. You quickly caught on and crawled over the center console, settling into his lap where Logan started kissing you again.

His large hands had a firm grip on your hips and he began to guide them, making you grind against his hardening cock. You broke the kiss, tilting your head back slightly as you let out a soft moan, and Logan took the opportunity to begin kissing your neck. One of his hands came up to the back of your head, tugging on your hair to make you tilt your head back more, giving him more access to the sensitive skin of your neck. You continued to move your hips against his while he kissed your neck, the soft moans and grunts coming from the two of you filling the car. You felt his teeth nip at your skin, he felt your nails dig into his shoulders; and the both of you seemed to simultaneously realize (though, it was impossible) how badly you wanted to leave marks on the other.

After that realization, it was like a switch had flipped and the both of you were now showing no hesitation in your rougher movements.

It only took a few more minutes before Logan lost his patience and pulled away only to practically growl the words “Get in the back.” And a moment later, the two of you had moved into the backseat of the van. From there, the two of you hardly wasted anymore time with foreplay. You tugged Logan’s shirt off of him and ran your hands over his now bare torso while Logan pushed your shirt and bra over your chest, taking a moment to squeeze and then slap one of your tits before practically tearing your pants off of your body. You fumbled with the button of his jeans and pulled his fly down and then Logan pulled his length out of his pants.

Fuck, his cock looked perfect.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting down on your shoulder as he slid into your already wet cunt. He groaned into your ear, his grip on your hips tightening as you cried his name.

The absurdity of this situation hadn’t sunk in yet. It hadn’t fully clicked for either of you, the strangeness of it all. But, as Logan began rutting into you in a pace so fast and desperate you’d think he’d been wanting this for years, you found yourself really not caring about how odd it was.

His breath was heavy against your hot skin as his hips kept up their rough, fast pace. Your nails dug into his shoulders and raked across the expanse of his back, leaving marks that immediately healed over.

“Feels so fucking good—“ He groaned. “Too fucking good.” His voice broke off into what almost sounded like a whimper.

You could hardly manage out any words, only hushed curses and cries of his name. Other than that, you could only moan helplessly.

Logan moved his head so that he could see your face. “Look at me, baby.” He said as one of his large hands moved to grab your jaw. “Fuck- I’ve wanted this for so long….” He shuddered and moved his grip from your jaw to your hair. “You know how many times—“ He groaned. “I’ve wanted to shut that pretty mouth up, wanted to bend you over and-“ He cut himself off with a shuddering moan. “Fuck, baby….” His head fell back into the crook of your neck as he panted. “M’gonna cum….”

You could only nod your head in response, a string of pleas and curses falling from your lips as your nails dug into his back. You weren’t far behind.

It only took a couple more thrusts from Logan for you to reach your climax. You threw your head back, crying out as your back arched. Logan gripped your hair to keep your head tilted back and he bit down on your shoulder. His thrusts became more sloppy, his breathing more labored. The moan he let out when he came was muffled by your skin.

For a moment, the car was only filled with the sounds of the both of you panting. When Logan pulled out, he practically collapsed on top of you with a deep sigh.

You chuckled breathlessly. “You alright, old man?”

Logan huffed, shooting you a glare. “Shut it, brat.”

For a moment you did go silent, catching your breath before speaking again. “How long have you wanted to do that?” You asked.

“Too long.” He replied gruffly. “Should’ve done something about it sooner.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “Got a lot of time to make up for, huh?”

“Careful, doll.”

“Or what?” You asked. “Show me what you’ll do.”

And so he did.

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: toxic!Eren x black reader

warnings: toxic & manipulative Eren, smut 18+, mentions of cheating, a lil choking, first time writing in a while so it's a lil shitty, last sentence is a lil dramatic, nd she's not proofread

a/n: y'all, this is unfortunately based on true events૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ꒱ა however writing this did make me realize i need to stand the fuck up, bc there's no reason I'm writing this while he goes to get me some food from one of the girls job…please don't be like me and if you are STAND UP!!! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

For as long as you could remember you never understood why women went back to men who cheated. Maybe it was that you grew up seeing the effects cheating had on a family, or that it seemed impossible to be that blinded by love. Whatever it was you vowed to never be one of those women and you stuck with your word all throughout life up until you met Eren.

You heard about him long before you met him. The boy having a reputation for romancing women into his bed only to act as if he didn't know him the next day. You knew about his character when you met him, and believed you knew better than to fall for his tricks.

However, with just one look into those enticing green eyes, you ended up just like every other girl. Clawing at his back while he whispered sweet talk into your ear with every thrust.

You were prepared to never speak to him again. You knew what you had signed up for. Or at least you thought so. Like clockwork every night he'd have you back in his bed, wetting up the sheets as he claimed he could never get enough of you. In the beginning, you assumed he had run out of girls to play, but after the 2nd week, his sweet talking seemed genuine.

That was how you found yourself in a year long relationship with the one and only Eren Yeager. Over the course of 12 months, he showed you he had changed for the better. Or so you thought. It wasn't till you had an unsettling gut feeling one morning that you went through his phone and found the pictures from 4 different girls that you realized it was all a facade.

Like you promised yourself from a young age, you left him. Reasonably, you were angry, but that anger soon decimated and turned into sadness and shame, not from the fact he cheated or that you had just left a long term relationship but because you realized you'd take him back if he asked.

That day you gave your formal apology to all women you deemed stupid for taking their partners back because if given the chance you'd be one of them.

Within a month of ignoring the texts and calls from unsaved numbers and acting as if you weren't home, your strength wavered. Your excuse being that you had clothes from his place that you needed. You knew you should have had a friend come with you, but you felt it was unnecessary.

Unnecessary however wouldn't have you with your legs wrapped around his waist as he stuffed you with the dick that had your fingers itching to text him in the middle of the night.

“I'm sorry, baby. None of them meant anything” He whispered, kissing his way up your collarbone.

Oh, how you so badly wanted to push him off for telling lies, but the way he was buried deep inside your walls had you gasping for air and pulling him closer.

His lips curled into a smirk at the way you responded to him. Though he was unfaithful, he truly did have strong feelings for you. Whether it was true love or lust disguised as love, he would do anything to keep you in his arms.

"You know I love you, right? I'd never intentionally hurt you. It was just...stress and temptation, okay? Those girls meant nothing and could never compare to you.” He pulled back to look at you with the eyes that got you into the mess in the first place. His hips rocked into yours, the head of his dick putting pressure on the spot that made you see stars.

“I know, I love you too, Rennie'' You cried

Any normal person would feel guilty about the way they had you wrapped around their finger. Eren however relished in the way you melted in his arms, the intoxicating bond you shared leaving him to the conclusion that he couldn't live without you.

“Yeah? You gon leave me again?” He quickened the pace of his hips.

You said something incoherently as a strangled moan escaped past your lips, eyes fluttering shut from the intensity of his thrusts.

“Can't hear you, mama. You staying?” His hand leaving the sheets to wrap around your neck. Applying just enough pressure to make your thoughts hazy

“Yes, Ren. I'm staying. M'yours” You choked out, from both the ecstasy he was providing and because you truly did miss him.

“That's my girl” He praised, a twisted smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His thrust quickening as the sounds of skin slapping echoed through the room.

You could only whine and moan in response, the sounds driving him crazy as you looked into his eyes. Nothing but love and lust swimming through them.

“You so pretty, mama” He mumbled, the hand that was once wrapped around your neck coming down to rub small rapid circles on your clit.

“Rennie” You cried, toes curling as you arched off the bed. Stray tears falling from the corners of your eyes at the combined pleasure

“Yeah, I know baby” He captured his lip in between his teeth as he felt your walls suck him in.

The pleasure was unbearable. The coil snapping as your orgasm left your legs shaking and eyes rolling.

Eren soon followed after, finding the way you gravitated to him and the sounds that left your swollen lips so salacious he buried himself inside you, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim as he lazily rocked his hips into yours and whispered fake promises into your ear.

Tiredness immediately took over you as he pulled out. Leaving no time for regret to seep in over the fact you had just cursed your future by allowing him to once again enter your life.

oh nd im backk໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

[pomefioredove]

Hi !! I love your writing! I think you've nailed the twst characters personalities really nicely <33

So if possible, I'd like to have some hcs Sebek, Ruggie, Jack, Jamil and Deuce would realize that they have a crush on the reader (in which the reader is basically their closest friend atp) and how'd they'd react to it. Would they be the type to shove it back down or get it over with? Something else entirely, maybe??

Hope this isn't too much. Thank you in advance! Take all the time you need!

hii first off thank you so much!! <3 and ofc ofc I LOVE pining (and friends to lovers?!)

pomefiore part

summary: how they would have a crush on you type of post: headcanons characters: deuce, jack, ruggie, jamil, sebek additional info: romantic, reader isn't specified to be yuu except in sebek's part because I found it funny, reader is gender neutral, deuce is a cutie patootie

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞

oh, he is in utter turmoil about this

on one hand: he really, really likes you

you're such a wonderful person

the kind of partner he'd be proud to introduce to his mom

on the other hand...

he really, really doesn't want to mess this up

you already have such a great thing going on as friends!

if he ruined that, he would literally never forgive himself

and Ace would make fun of him for it until the very end of time itself

so, of course he just sits on these feelings. maybe if he focuses on something else, they'll go away?

spoiler alert: they do not

they definitely do not

if anything, trying to ignore them just makes it worse for him; suddenly he's becoming an entirely different person around you

it's like a switch is flipped the second you're in the room

he becomes clumsy, easily flustered, can barely string a sentence together

Ace gives him hell about it, of course

and when there's no hope of hiding it any longer, he just confesses

(not that it wasn't obvious already... but for his sake, you'll have to pretend like it's shocking news)

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥

he's actually... pretty upfront about it?

once he's got his feelings on the matter sorted, anyway

...which takes him a few weeks

when he first recognizes his crush on you, he pours himself into his training

not as a distraction, really; he just finds it easier to think when he's working out

he really does want to think this one through

much like Deuce, Jack understands that he'd put the friendship at risk if he were to confess

unlike Deuce, however, he's somewhat aware that ignoring and hiding is a coward's way out, and will only push you away

so, once he's very sure about his feelings, he confesses

it's not exactly like a confession, though

more of a... lecture?

just informs you that he's developed feelings, doesn't want them to affect the friendship, and leaves the decision up to you

won't freak if you don't reciprocate, but... he might be a little bummed out

okay... more than a little

𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

first thought: he doesn't have time for this

Ruggie has a job, school, and a whole neighborhood to feed back home

now a partner? no, that's completely out of the question

besides, it's not like you'd ever reciprocate. who'd wanna spend every date eating dandelion salad?

no one, that's who

of course he doesn't bother asking, but he assumes that goes without saying

but he's busy enough to put those feelings on the back burner and deal with them some other day

...if only he wasn't so distracted by thoughts of you, that plan might have worked!

by his third slip-up, Leona's had enough and demands he's gotta sort out whatever's bothering him if he ever wants to show his face there again

(he might've been in a bad mood)

but, unfortunately, Ruggie knows he's right

it's better to be rejected now than to spend the rest of his school days mulling over it

so, he just spills the beans, as plain and simple as possible

tries to walk away as soon as he's done so he doesn't have to see the look on your face

you can imagine his surprise when you pull him back

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

actually has a pretty similar reaction to Ruggie

Jamil can't possibly fathom having a partner in a world where he doesn't even have his own freedom

in a sense, he just doesn't want to drag you into his life

in another, more important sense, he would be devastated if you rejected him

so he just... ignores it

of course, Jamil knows that pretending the feelings aren't there won't do much, but he doesn't really have a lot of options

he's not one to talk through his feelings, after all

not that anyone asks...

and his ability to interact with you as if nothing is different is astonishing

even if it feels like he's melting inside

though, you may catch him smiling more at you these days

he just can't help himself

when he's got his other stuff sorted, you'll be next on the agenda

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤 𝐙𝐢𝐠𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭

you claim to have no magic, and yet you bewitch him into caring about you just as much as his liege?!

well... maybe not as much...

but close! very close!

even admitting that to himself feels like high treason

nonetheless, you have to be something very special to distract him from what he calls his "true purpose in life"

he sees you and feels... ill?

he's light-headed, he's dizzy, his stomach feels funny...

and he's been thinking about you more so than usual

yes, you're friends... he'll even admit he's grown quite fond of you in comparison to the other people you call "friends"

but this is... unusual

surely, you've placed some kind of curse on him!

Silver is the first to hear about it

poor boy is too tired to deal, and so he passes on the problem to Lilia

who just chuckles and makes a lot of odd references and metaphors that no one of this century would understand

no, Sebek has to come to the conclusion that he likes you all on his own

(like-likes you)

and after some pestering from Lilia, he admits that perhaps you and he could protect Malleus... together!

(he's going to have to work on the wording of that confession)

[bettsfic]

Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.

story time:

so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.

and we all became very good friends!

and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."

and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."

i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.

jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.

actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.

when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.

so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.

even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.

so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.

[rcmclachlan]

seven sentence sunday

I was tagged by the lovely @firehose118!

Like everyone else, I'm also writing a fix-it fic that is spinning out of control. Here's a sneak peek:

Exhaling sharply through his nose, he jabs Accept so hard it feels like he's punching his phone. He hopes Tommy can feel it on the other end of the call. The thought gives him a perverse thrill.

"You'd better be calling with either one hell of an apology or your grandmother's pear panettone recipe, or I'm hanging up."

Both Dr. Copeland and Maddie would be proud of the way he manages to pull that one off without tripping up or letting his voice shake, although they'd give him one hell of a side eye if they knew it's only because he's been practicing it in front of a mirror for weeks. At least Maddie would do it for free.

His belly clenches in hungry anticipation, because Tommy's going to hit back with something bitchy that Buck will hate himself for finding hilarious, like, "Well, I must be calling to apologize, because I'd rather sell state secrets to North Korea than part with a single ingredient for the panettone."

He sucks in a breath, holds it, and waits. And waits.

But the volley never comes. All he gets is the faint sound of something rushing in the background, followed by an only slightly louder, "Hey."

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @screamlet, @liminalmemories21, @alchemistc, and @newtkelly