#this was not in fact a drabble ooops

[orbitariums]

rum punch | patrick zweig x black fem reader

writing this because patrick is definitely the type to text you like “if you wanna pull up just to get fucked here’s the addy”

obsessed with this song right now (rump punch by cash cobain) and listened to it over and over while writing this. i recommend listening to compliment your reading experience 🙏🏾 it’s sooo challengers especially patrick zweig coded. let’s review: “top five nasty, you ain’t even gotta ask me” and “soon as you leave i miss u too, like damn”; “don’t be asking questions like a interview cuz you really know what we finna do”...  “i just made her cum twice you ain’t make her cum once”?!!>!##? that’s patrick DOWN. sorry it must be said… 

so a little drabble-ish thing is ahead! contains: cheating (ooops), degradation, smut

it started when you started dating your current boyfriend, or at least that’s what you would tell yourselves to make you feel better about the whole ordeal — not that patrick cared much to begin with. but anybody who knew you and patrick knew that this had been going on for far longer than either of you would care to admit, or that either of you had enough introspective ability to even realize. every single playful shove, every time you squeezed his hand to deflect from parting at the end of a hangout, the way he’d stack his legs on top of yours while you were studying even though he knew you “hated” it, his thumb circling your hand, your head on his shoulder during a late night movie sesh with art and tashi, eyes fluttering closed until you found sleepy heaven in the perfect crevice of his neck. nearly every time you saw each other, which was frequent, you were touching without touching. art, who wasn’t one to make crass comments often, would always tell patrick: “it wouldn’t even make a difference, you should just go ahead and fuck each other. the shit you two do is more than just sex.”

it was 11:16 pm when you called him. your boyfriend had sped off in the middle of the night in a fit of anger after an intense argument about the same thing for the hundredth time. you were so tired. you’d been so close to texting or calling him before, but you refrained — you didn’t want things between the two of you to get messy when nothing in your life was going right in the first place. but now that you were nearly slumped against the wall with tears hot against your face, so tired beyond comprehension, you could blame it on the delirium brought on by exhaustion. you told yourself you just needed the comfort of your close friend, who always made you laugh.

“patrick, can i come over?” you’d asked, your voice trembling, your face buried in your sweater sleeve. 

patrick had never heard you sound so upset — he’d never even seen you cry. when you were around him, you were always so jovial and giggly. so when he heard your voice on the phone, so late at night, sounding so fragile and fractured, his eyebrows immediately knit together with concern, and he sat up on his couch. 

“yn, are you okay? is everything alright, you sound—”

“i’m fine,” you sniffled, breath catching on your voice multiple times. “just-just need a friend. please, can i come over?”

you couldn’t see it, but his features softened, and some wedge in his heart seemed to shift over,

“yeah. yeah, of course you can.”

he was so confused, but just glad to know that you were at least okay, taking pride in the fact that he was who you wanted to be around, whatever was going on. he made some rushed efforts to tidy up his bachelor apartment, sweeping crumbs under the rug, tucking in pillows on the couch, throwing yesterday’s takeout into the overflowing trashcan, and swiping the trash off his coffee table. 

he couldn’t believe how shrunken you looked when you appeared in front of his door that night, clad in an oversized stanford hoodie and sweatpants, slippers, tears still welling up in your eyes. this couldn’t be the same yn pushing him off of her with excessive force and maniacally cackling at his stupid jokes. 

“wh-”

before he could get a word out, you threw your arms around your waist, plopping your head down on his chest. he stilled for a moment out of shock, then relaxed into your touch, embracing you with his arms around your shoulders and down your back, holding you because he knew that’s what you needed right now. 

and then you were pulling away, sniffling and wiping away your tears, finally feeling some ounce of comfort now that you were with him. you knew, you knew, this was what you needed, as much as you had resisted this very thing. 

“it’s chris,” you said, moving past him and inside his apartment, groaning as you plunked down onto the couch. 

now, looking out the open door at the hallway ahead of him, patrick was nodding to himself silently, like he had come to some realization. he sat beside you, and you turned to him with a pout. and it was then that patrick knew he was not a good man for thinking about how pretty you looked with tears streaking your face and your lips pressed together in a girlish pout. 

“he’s like… intimidated by me or something. every single thing i tell him about my day, about work, about my friends, my wins… he’s always finding some thing to harp on like i’m some villain stopping him from achieving his finance bro dreams. he hates that i’m living my life because he isn’t living his yet. so every thing i earn, he just picks it apart and tears it down, questions my motives for everything.”

“he’s a dick, alright?” patrick said, in that ever so frank tone that you honestly missed, and wished you could hear during these arguments with your boyfriend. “yn, i’d never… we wouldn’t treat you like that, me and art and tashi. we’re your real friends, we celebrate you. that’s how a relationship’s supposed to go. he’s a stupid fuck.”

you grinned a bit at his correction, the corner of your lips turning up.

“i know you wouldn’t.”

“can i ask you something though, yn?”

“mhm?” you looked up at him with such innocent doe eyes that he didn’t want to call bullshit, but he was calling bullshit. 

“why… why’d you come over here? why not to tashi or your mom’s or… anyone else? why me?”

you sighed deeply, shaking your head,

“because, patrick, i… i just… want you right now.”

his face impossibly close to yours, intruding your senses and all your walls before you even realized they were up. 

“how do you want me?” he asked, his voice the softest it had ever been, his breath tickling your cheek. 

you were hoping you wouldn’t have to finish your sentence, and patrick knew it — his hands gripped the sides of your face with a stronghold, and then your lips were crashing against each other like a wave coming to the tide, foaming and sputtering and wetting the cracked sand at the shore. and it didn’t take long before you were climbing on top of him and straddling him, your clothes falling off one by one. his rough hand clutching your breast and squeezing, another in your panties navigating your clit like a fucking expert, making your back arch against the air. then your legs by your head as patrick drove himself into you, tender and slow and making you see stars instead of his face and the ceiling. fucking every tear out of you, turning your sobs of pain into sobs of pleasure. your moans were like a choir to him, licking flames against his earlobes each time you whimpered his name, leaving little half-circle imprints in his back with his nails. sweat dripping down his forehead as he clutched his eyes shut and tried not to come too fast, tried not to let the way you wrapped around him like a fucking snake— pussy squeezing his cock, legs trapping him inside you, hands roaming his back like new found land — make him lose focus. 

“fuck, your fucking moans. d’you have any idea how much i’ve thought about this? f- fuck, if you come to me crying again, i’m not gonna go so easy on you.”

if he had an ounce of self-respect, he’d have stopped you after the first time (he didn’t have the discipline to deny you completely), but something about him stirred at the unpredictable predictability of it all. he knew that at least once a week, you’d come crying to him over something your asshole boyfriend did to you, it was just a matter of what day of the week. 

he liked when you came over on friday nights most, because more often than not you’d stay the night, sometimes the weekend, making the excuse to your boyfriend that you were sleeping over at a girlfriend or your mother’s house. but really you were just spending the whole weekend getting fucked by your recovery boyfriend patrick, who would scrape up the little money he had to order food from your favorite thai restaurant every night and watch what were, in his opinion, the most insipid movies he’d ever seen — because he knew that less than halfway through you’d be split open on his cock, sobbing with pleasure into his shoulder as princess diaries became a distant echo in the background. his hand on the small of your back, his vision glazing over as he stares ahead at the tv, too enraptured by the sweet whimpers you make while you’re (attempting to) ride him, the sounds of your slick pussy swallowing him whole in slow intervals, panting and gasping as he speared you open because he was: “so big, patrick you’re so big.”

he’ll snap out of it then, find his hands wrapped around your waist and his lips buried in the crook of your neck,

“it’s okay, baby. you can take me.”

“i’m trying,” you wailed, the frustration so clear in your voice that it almost made him laugh. 

instead, he wrapped his hands around your waist firmly, leading you down onto his cock himself. 

“fuck!” you shouted out, practically collapsing forward onto him. “patrick, please—”

“if you can come to me crying just to get dick, you can take it.”

you gasped at the directness of his words, punching yourself for how much it turned you on. and he knew it too, by the way your pussy throbbed around his dick. you couldn’t see his face, but you could practically hear the shit-eating smirk in his voice as he grabbed your asscheek,

“yeah, your pussy loves it though. and you love being my little slut behind closed doors when your boyfriend isn’t acting right.”

you couldn’t control the moan that tumbled out of your lips when he said that, and definitely not the screech you let out when he started to thrust up, jackhammering into you so his cock reached the hilt. 

“that what you wanted?”

“yes, yes!” you wailed, nodding desperately, positively wrecked as your head practically hung over his shoulder, enveloped in a world of pleasure. 

“yeah… i know…”

and sometimes he won't be so nice. he'll be damn near using your pussy like a fleshlight, his body practically covering yours as he fucks you like an animal, hard and fast and rough, your pussy squelching around his cock each time he rams it into you. he'll use you like he's the one that needs comforting, like your pussy is the only safe haven he knows. and it's only fair, the way you hide out in his house and act like his dick is your life source. he fucks you like he's an athlete and this is his sport, tennis be damned. he'll degrade you anyway he knows how — because he knows you love it, knows it makes you finish two times as fast.

"he doesn't fuck you like this."

"you're such a fucking slut. come over here crying acting like you don't pull up just to get fucked." he'll laugh as he says this, and you want to smack his chest in indignation, but you can't manage anything but moans.

“you’re such a good girl. letting me use this pussy when i want.”

"there you go, squeeze my cock like it's yours."

"pussy's so greedy, getting fucked by the both of us. still so fucking tight."

"your boyfriend's probably wondering where you are." this has made you come twice now.

"whose pussy is it?" (and even though you have a man, you tell him it's his every time. sometimes he doesn't even need to ask, sometimes he fucks you so good that you just scream out: "it's your pussy — it's your pussy, daddy", and he'll chuckle and say: "i know.").

and you let him say these things and more, because he fucks you like no one ever has, like he knows something you told him in complete and total secrecy. like it's something so complex — but all it ever takes is one touch.

your friends have noticed something is different between you two, but it's honestly not a big jump from before — only this time, you guys sealed the deal and were actually fucking now. of course, patrick can't keep his mouth closed for long and ends up bragging to art, and you tell tashi because she's one of the girls, and now there's this unspoken understand between all of you. but no one feels the need to intervene, because honestly... it makes sense.

and you’ll have a conversation with him every other time, telling him “we have to stop doing this.” and one day he replies, 

“yn. not to be a dick or anything, but you’re the one who calls me. you act like you're coming over for comfort, but we both know it's my dick doing all the comforting."

and you know it’s true, you know patrick is right even if he is an asshole. but you won’t let that stop you from texting him: thai food and a movie? everytime your boyfriend fucks up. and patrick won't stop you either.

[aadmelioraa]

"I'll make some tea." + Aldhelm

This is for you and also for @aelflaeds who requested a fill for the same prompt. Enjoy!!

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aelfwynn x Cynlaef, Aldhelm & Aelfwynn, Modern AU, 1.9k, rated T.

Aelfwynn brings her new boyfriend home without warning, which is how Aethelflaed and Aldhelm discover she has a boyfriend at all. Luckily, Cynlaef knows how to break the ice (ok maybe not, but he's trying his best).

read below or on ao3

It had been a quiet and productive spring day for Aldhelm—unbelievably productive, actually. He’d finished grading the last of his term papers, cleaned the entire kitchen, and even reorganised the pantry. He couldn't reasonably ask more of a Friday afternoon.

He’s ahead of schedule, as Aethelflaed isn’t due home for another two hours, and just deciding how to make use of his spare time—begin reorganising the library, perhaps?—when he hears the doorbell. It’s probably a delivery person. He needs to get the post anyway.

But when he reaches the front door, the young man standing before him and holding a box is not in uniform. Furthermore, he appears tongue tied, opening and closing his mouth without saying a word.

Aldhelm frowns at him as he opens the postbox. “You can set that down, I’ll take it in a moment.”

The young man stares, his head tilted like a dog who’s been asked to wait for a treat.

“Did you need a signature?” Aldhelm prompts. The man—more a boy, really—doesn’t appear to have a clue as to how to do his job.

“No—that’s alright—“ the young man stammers.

“Aldhelm?” Aelfwynn appears at the bottom of the steps, a weekend bag slung over her shoulder. She removes her sunglasses to stare up at him, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

Aldhelm tucks the mail under his arm. He’s not sure what he’s done to entertain her, but he will no doubt find out before long. “Aelfwynn, hello. What are you doing here?”

The delivery man is still frozen in place, clutching the box to his chest as if he intends to take up permanent residence on the porch. Aldhelm shoots him a sidewise glance and wonders if he will have to forcibly escort him off the premises. He reaches out to accept the box, but the man looks to Aelfwynn as if for permission to release it. Perhaps it’s addressed to a woman. Aldhelm looks for a delivery label—he doesn’t see one.

“I do live here, technically,” Aelfwynn answers good-naturedly as she makes her way up the steps. “Gosh, it’s a nice day.” She gives a friendly smile to the young man with the box, but as she turns back to Aldhelm she furrows her brow.

“Your mother and I thought you were returning tomorrow, that's all,” Aldhelm explains. “Are you expecting a delivery?”

“Delivery?” Aelfwynn asks. “No, we came back a day early. Didn’t think you and Mum would mind.”

“We?” Aldhelm asks.

The man with the box has relaxed slightly now that Aelfwynn is beside him. Aelfwynn’s hand brushes his elbow. The space between them narrows. Ah.

“My apologies,” Aldhelm manages. “I didn’t realise.”

“You’re being so awkward.” Aelfwynn purses her lips. “Are you going to let us in?”

Aldhelm steps back, allowing them to proceed into the house. The young man hesitates on the doorstep until Aelfwynn finds his hand and pulls him in after her.

So they’re that sort of an “us.” Aelfwynn hasn’t brought a boyfriend home before. But it’s inevitable. She’s eighteen, after it. It’s completely normal—good, even. It means she wants them to meet him. That’s more than Aldhelm had expected, if he's honest.

Aelfwynn leaves her bag at the foot of the stairs, but directs the young man to bring the box into the kitchen, where he gently sets it on the counter.

“Your mother isn’t home yet,” Aldhelm says.

“I thought we might beat her here.” Aelfwynn reaches into the refrigerator for a pitcher of water. She pulls two glasses from the cupboard next, and pours a drink for her and her guest.

The young man is smiling, and un-smiling, every few seconds. He seems afraid to make eye contact with Aldhelm, instead he admires his surroundings and nods regularly at nothing in particular.

Aldhelm raises a hand in a commanding fashion, and the young man finally looks towards him. The simple gesture always works in the classroom, and it gratifies Aldhelm to know it works here too. “I’m Aldhelm, Aelfwynn’s step-father.”

“Oh, I know,” the young man replies earnestly, then stops himself abruptly from continuing, looking to Aelfwynn as if he’d said the wrong thing.

“Aldhelm, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn supplies, a proud smile on her face.

“Hello, Cynlaef,” Aldhelm says, his eyes narrowing slightly as he extends his hand. “I assume you know Aelfwynn from university?”

“Yes, sir,” Cynlaef says, smiling eagerly. His handshake is firm—a little too firm. He certainly can’t be accused of not trying.

“Cynlaef’s my boyfriend,” Aelfwynn continues, jumping onto the kitchen counter behind her.

“I see.” Aldhelm raises his eyebrows. “And how long have you two been dating?”

“A few months,” Cynlaef says, gravitating towards Aelfwynn, still clutching his glass of water. “Her cousin Aethelstan’s a friend of mine.”

Aelfwynn rakes her fingers through Cynlaef’s hair in an absentminded fashion. “They’re both on the Rugby team.”

Rugby. Naturally.

Aldhelm smiles. “Cynlaef, would you excuse us for a moment?” He jerks his head towards the next room. Aelfwynn rolls her eyes but hops off the counter and follows.

They proceed into the living area, which serves as office, entertaining space, and the occasional interrogation room. Aldhelm leans against a bookcase. Aelfwynn sinks onto the arm of a reading chair, her expression equally expectant and defiant.

“I assume your mother isn’t aware of Cynlaef,” Aldhelm begins.

“Haven’t mentioned him yet.” Aelfwynn shrugs her shoulder casually. “It’s not a big deal, though, is it?”

Aldhelm briefly presses the bridge of his nose. Aelfwynn’s timing has never been worse, and that was saying something. “No, it's not, but she’s finishing a big case today—“

“Oh.”

“Notice wouldn't have hurt, that’s all,” he continues, keeping his voice as cheerful as he can.

Aelfwynn grimaces up at him. “I didn’t know about the case.”

“Right.” Aldhelm exhales. Aelfwynn and Aethelflaed haven’t talked much recently. Perhaps this is Aelfwynn’s way of making an effort to change that.

“You’re making a face. Are you going to lecture me about healthy relationships or something?” Aelfwynn asks, her expression souring.

“No, I’ll leave that for your mother,” Aldhelm says dryly.

Aelfwynn snorts.

Aldhelm glances back towards the kitchen. Cynlaef is standing exactly where Aelfwynn had left him, staring across the room, face blank. “He seems…”

“He’s really sweet, you’ll like him,” Aelfwynn insists. “And you should come to a match. He’s brilliant.” She crosses and uncrosses her arms. “I hope Mum isn’t too put out. I didn’t want to give her time to overthink it—“

“Well you certainly haven’t done that.”

Aelfwynn wrinkles her nose. “I know, I know. You could have warned me about the case.”

“If I had known I needed to—“

But before they can discuss further, there’s a noise at the front door.

“She’s home early,” Aldhelm says in a low voice, pushing off the bookcase.

“Oh, fuck.” Aelfwynn barrels into the kitchen, Aldhelm on her heels.

Cynlaef turns toward them, wide-eyed, then the door opens and Aethelflaed appears, perfectly composed despite being weighed down by a briefcase, a large tote bag, and a portable file box. She beams at the sight of Aelfwynn, then her smile fades slightly at the sight of Cynlaef—she quickly recovers, of course, and forces a brighter smile, albeit a more artificial one.

Aldhelm crosses towards her and relieves her of her bags and case files, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Aelfwynn’s home early, and she’s brought a guest.”

“I can see that,” Aethelflaed replies, the line between her brow flickering as she searches his face for an answer to her many unspoken questions.

He shakes his head, and she sighs, then turns back towards the young couple.

“Hi, Mum.” Aelfwynn slides towards her, allowing her mother to pull her into a hug. “Sorry to show up early. I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“I am,” Aethelflaed says warmly. “Who’s your friend, darling?”

“Mum, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn says hesitantly. “My boyfriend.”

Cynlaef eagerly extends a hand, which Aethelflaed accepts. “Really nice to meet you. Aelfwynn has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Aethelflaed replies humorously, turning to Aldhelm.

It's then that Aldhelm remembers that he had anticipated a quiet afternoon, and nearly laughs. Aethelflaed narrows her eyes at him. “How was your case?” he asks. He’s sure it went well, based on her mood upon entering, so it seems a safe thing to inquire after.

“Good. Great, even. And we finished early.” She turns back to Aelfwynn. “So…pardon me…how long…”

“Oh, not long,” Aelfwynn says swiftly. “It’s sort of a new thing.” She worries her lower lip. “Not thatnew. I mean…I did want you all to meet. It’s…well…” She trails off, looking to Aldhelm for help.

Aldhelm forces a smile, shrugging apologetically. He has no desire to get caught in the middle of things any more than he already is.

There’s an awkward silence, during which Cynlaef attempts to drink from his now empty glass.

“It’s just a bit of a surprise,” Aethelflaed says, smoothing a hand over her hair. “No offence to the lovely young man, of course.”

Cynlaef appears unsure if this is a compliment or an insult. Aldhelm is again tempted to laugh.

“A nice surprise?” Aelfwynn asks.

Aldhelm lays a hand over his mouth.

“Of course nice,” Aethelflaed replies, her voice taut. “Well…I suppose it’s good we’ll get to know you, Cynlaef. I had thought we’d have Aelfwynn to ourselves for the week, but—“

“Actually, we’re going up to see Cynlaef's parents in Daresbury on Wednesday,” Aelfwynn says. “But we have until then. That’s loads of time.”

“Right.” Aethelflaed presses her lips together. “I suppose it would have been too much to expect a phone call with that change of plans either.”

Aelfwynn rolls her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world, Mum—“

“In no way did I imply it was—“

“You’re totally overreacting—“

“Aelfwynn, let’s not argue—“

“It’s really not a big deal!” Aelfwynn huffs. “Aldhelm was totally cool about it, why can’t you be?”

Aethelflaed shoots Aldhelm a look of latent irritation. Cynlaef has done his best to become one with the refrigerator. Aelfwynn has her hands on her hips, a stance Aldhelm has become quite familiar with the past few years.

“Oh!” Cynlaef suddenly springs forward. “I forgot about the gifts.” He opens the box he’d left on the countertop and pulls out a series of handmade mugs one by one, each one slightly more irregular in appearance than the last. When he’s finished, he gestures to the collection with a broad smile. “I made them in my ceramics class. Didn’t expect to like it, but it was a lot of fun, actually. Not too bad, right?”

Aethelflaed stares, her mouth slightly open.

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Aelfwynn says, smiling up at Cynlaef. He grins down at her.

“So very thoughtful, Cynlaef,” Aethelflaed replies in clipped tones, gingerly picking up one of the vessels. “I’m not sure where we’ll store such a wonderful assortment—“

“Oh, there’s room in the cupboard, I checked,” Cynlaef says helpfully.

Aethelflaed blinks rapidly. “What foresight.”

Aelfwynn groans quietly.

Aldhelm clears his throat. “Right. I’ll make some tea, shall I?”

[elareine]

God, why was Gotham so cold? The wind alone was enough to make Dick dream of tropical islands or literal volcanoes, not to mention the sleet and the thick layer of clouds. Even a hot shower wasn't enough to warm him up after patrol. Maybe some soup? He grabbed a sweatshirt from the closet (not many left, time for laundry, ooops) and pulled it over his head on the way to the kitchen. He'd frozen a batch of chicken noodle soup last month that would be perfect for a night like this. Already the soft wool of the sweatshirt, thoughts of a hot meal, and the smell of home were soothing him, warming him—

Dick froze.

Yeah, the sweatshirt smelled good. Too good. Looking down confirmed it: the shirt was a shade of red Dick had never worn before Jason.

Jason. Who wasn't here. But his sweatshirt was.

Dick didn't remember how it came to be in his closet—no, he did. They'd run into each other during patrol, back in the early days when everything was new and exciting. So exciting that they'd fucked on the rooftop, in fact, Jason holding him up against a wall and kissing him as if oxygen and secret identities didn't matter.

Round two had taken place at Jason's place, Jason sweetly pliant under Dick's mouth. After that, well, it had been a bit too bright outside to go home in his Nightwing garb, so Jason had thrown some clothes at Dick before making him breakfast. Dick rather thought the sweatshirt had been in that pile.

Or maybe it hadn't. Dick had stolen Jason's clothing countless times, after all, loving the look in the other man's eyes when he wore them. Jason had rarely felt secure enough in their relationship to be possessive, but when he was... fingers on his hips, hands pulling him close, a mark left high enough for everyone to see...

Dick gently tilted his head against the wall and sighed. Jesus. He had to stop this. All of this. The pining and the working-as-distraction and the wanting-no-other-partner and the dreams and the emptiness.

The worst thing was. The worst thing—it was how Dick couldn't stop checking his phone, even now. He knew that Jason wouldn't call. He knew. The younger man was too much of a coward, and so was Dick, no matter how often he wrote and erased a message. They'd let each other go, after all.

He didn't even want Jason to reach out, not really, not in the part of his brain that knew it was over and that that was a good thing.

Dick pushed himself off the wall and determinedly walked to the kitchen. Soup. And sleep. This shitty fucking moment would pass. And the next, too. And the next. And there would be more space between them, more room to breathe. Eventually, Dick would feel whole again. He had to believe that.

But goddammit, he hadn't known it was possible to miss someone so fucking much.

Drabble Song Challenge 13/50: Vermissen [to miss] - Juju ft. Henning May

[velvethopewrites]

Taking Stock

Writerly things I’m feeling proud of lately - started and finished my story for the Harry & Ginuary fic exchange event (after much worry and anxiety that nothing would come from it - I’ve been dealing with a severe writer’s depression), adding a new scene to the latest chapter of my story In Essence; the chapter was previously without any private Harry/Ginny time and I worked really hard at adding more and I think I succeeded. *shakes hand & crosses fingers* I worked really hard on that chapter in general, actually. Did a massive brainstorm session with myself and feel more secure in which direction the story is now heading.  (Ie, the home stretch, the final battle)

Wrote Ticklish, completely out of the blue and yet still really proud of it because like I said, severe writing depression has been my life these last weeks. It may seem like a simple one-shot but to me it felt epic. Words were my friend again.

Writerly things *Not* to be proud of - the next chapter of Possession is still wallowing, half-finished. Sigh. I am not happy with myself over this but it seems as though it can’t be helped.  I have had Harry and Ginny in mid-meal for weeks now and it’s not getting any closer to afters, if you get my drift.

Promised a friend to do a quick drabble for them to go along with their art for the Harry & Ginuary event and haven’t even started it yet. Ooops.

Overall beating myself up over things I cannot control, with in regards to writing. Also, I have grown lazy with writing and even though I recognize this, it still doesn’t make me write any quicker. In fact, the lazier I feel, the worse it gets. Plus, all the crippling self-doubt I am faced with on a daily basis and well, my inner writer’s life is sort of shit right now, so that’s why I made this post. To remind myself that every little bit is progress and I should try to celebrate the wins more. So while the overall mood is a not proud moment, the fact of this post’s existence, is? hmm We’ll call it even and slip it in the middle.

As far as real life things to be proud of - eh, not so much to report there. I managed to cook some meals without a recipe and didn’t kill anyone with my efforts, so that’s always a plus. Cleaned out one half of my closet (looked like a bomb went off, and actually, it still looks like that but now I can stand in the middle of it all and admire the chaos up close).  And finally, tried two new local coffeehouses that usually intimidate me (I have mentioned I’m an introvert, right? Once or twice? Me trying new things usually doesn’t happen) but I really enjoyed them and will definitely go back to them.

And, if you have read this blathering all the way to the bottom then I am going to count that as a win too. ♥️

[gutterdreams]

39 with billy please! 💛💛

“It’s been too long since I’ve touched you.” This was requested a few times and it also got away from me. This is way more than a drabble. Ooops.

Requests are closed.

Ithad been easy to avoid Billy since last month when everything fellapart. He barely showed up to school after you two broke up. In fact,you didn’t know if he even graduated, but you had to force yourselfnot to care. His shortcomings were not your projects anymore. Youheard rumblings around the crowded house party, celebrating the endof exams, that Billy had arrived, but you hadn’t caught so much as aglimpse of his unrestrained stare or obsessively pampered hair. Youtrusted that you would smell him before you you saw him, his colognea lasting memory since you had liked falling asleep under his arm andbreathing it in like the ghost of rain. Youwere squeezing your way through the crowded house like it was agarden maze, looking from side to side constantly to try and findeither one of the two friends you came with, John and Gwen. Youflexed onto your tip toes to see over Trisha Loewen’s teased hair totry and see. Once you were back flat on the ground, you went to stepforward but you were blocked by a glistened torso, shining throughfour open buttons. The familiar musk attacked your senses and youknew Billy was right in front of you before you saw hisface. “Excuseme.” Mumbling, you kept your voice down and tried to slip byhim, but he was a stone statue and wouldn’t let you. “Excuseme.” You tried again, but he shifted with you and kept hisfolded elbow in your way. Giving him a smidgen of what he wanted, youlooked up and darted your eyes into his, “Move.” Youdemanded, your voice steady unlike the last time you two spoke. Helooked incredible and you hated that it was the first thing that cameto mind. Smirking,Billy stepped to the side and finally let you walk by. His eyes,foggy from drinking for hours on end, followed you. He watched youleave the living room and slip outside, thinking, maybe, your friendsstepped out for air or Gwen went to bum a smoke from someone. Billyfollowed, so when you turned around, he was there again. He was likean irritating and misshapen shadow.“Youneed a ride?” Billy asked, speaking to you for the first time after over a month apart. He could tell you were looking for yourfriends and figured one of them must have driven. “I’mnot talking to you.” Walking steadfast away from him, youconfirmed what he already knew to be true. “Whynot?” Billy asked, the drunk version of himself take charge fora second. 

“Becausemy mom always said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t sayanything at all.”“Well,your mom’s not here." Forevery two steps you took, Billy took one. He kept up with youeffortlessly until you whipped around and fucked under his arm tohead back to the house. He had to clumsily manuever himself in asmall circle. He had been keeping his distance from you due to hispride for so long that now that you were close enough to touch again,he couldn’t stay away. ”[Y/N]“Paces behind you, Billy called for you like he would when you werewalking away during an argument or when he was ready to talk civillyinstead of scream. As if you two were still together, you froze.Billy said your name in a way that felt like a warm hug, comfortingand calling you in. You couldn’t believe he still had a powerfuleffect over you. Billyviewed your stillness as an invitation and headed over to you with ahand out. Before he could put it anywhere near your hair or shoulder,you whipped around with eyes clenched, prepared for him to punctureyour heart that was still recovering. "Whatcould you possibly need to say to me right now?” Refusing tolook at him, you asked.Billysmacked the side of his own head, angry at himself for ruining thingsbetween you two so badly that you didn’t want to even stand near himanymore. The sound of his knuckles meeting the side of his foreheadopened your eyes and you watched him drag his tongue from one side ofhis mouth to the other.“Ijust - ” Billy tried to speak, but had to stop to gasp. “Iknow you don’t - ” He squished his face together and mentallycursed himself out for being a moron. You could read the mean mentalconversation through his frustrated eyes. “I miss you, okay?”After checking to see that there were only a couple people around,Billy took a step in and told you like a secret. Immediately, youscoffed as if what he said was as funny as it was stupid. “Iknow I fucked up. I know you’re mad, but -” Billy moved incloser, drawing a single fingertip down your arm and looking at thelimb that used to be his to hold. He was staring at your arm as if itwas a precious work of art, something to be cherished. He never tookyou in that way when you two were together. “Don’t.”You hissed and tucked your arm behind your back and then did the samewith the other. “Comeon, it’s been too long since I’ve touched you.” His voice wasmore gentle than you had ever heard it be before. He was being softwith you, trying to be the person he knew you needed before youdumped him in his car outside of Hawkins High. “That’syour own fault!” Trying to ignore  the lingering feeling ofhis touch, you scolded him.

“Iknow and I’m sorry.” He hung his head and pouted, hating himself atthe memory. He tried to slither his fingers between yours, but youkept jerking away to keep your hands behind you and out of reach. “Itwas stupid. I know now how stupid it was.” He tried to convinceyou, eyes searching for a glimmer of hope in yours, but you weretrying to look anywhere, but at him. “You think I’d do that again?Never!”

“Idon’t trust you.”

“Howcan I fix that?!” Finally, a switch flipped and Billy roared. Hethrew his arms above his head in frustration and gained the attentionyou both didn’t want. “Tell me what to fucking do, [Y/N], and I’lldo it.” You wanted to believe him, but they just sounded like theright words to say. It was like he watched a bunch of romantic dramasand was acting out the part that was meant for John Cusack.

“It’sdone, Billy.” You held up both palms in front of him, shoving thewords you had said to him before in his face. Turning around, yousighed and tried to forge ahead. Billy was quicker though and tookyour hand to yank you back.

“Isit because you’re with that pussy Carpenter now?” He scoffed at thethought of you with John. “For someone who cried so hard aboutbeing cheated on, you moved on from me pretty fucking fast.”

Ifhe hadn’t been pulling on your wrist, you would have turned aroundall on your own. His words infuriated you. Time might have carried onsince you broke up, but Billy still knew how to wind you up like adoctor’s office toy.

“I’mnot with John! John wants to be with me, he invited me to Florida forthe summer, he wants to help me get set up in my new dorm inSeptember, he bought me this necklace!” You ripped your hand fromBilly’s and yank on the slim gold chain around your neck. Billydecided instantly that he hated it and it was obnoxious even if itwas delicate and understated. “He wants to be with me, but I’m sofucked up from being cheated on by a guy I wanted to be with foreverthat I can’t commit to more than a movie night! You fucked me up. Isthat not good enough for you? You have to follow me around and makesure I’m miserable!?” Finding your friends was now the furthestthing from your mind. With burning red cheeks and flared nostrils,you were releasing a months worth of tension onto your former love.

“Idon’t want you to be miserable!” Billy’s hands shook in front ofhim, trying to make his point and drill it into your flushed face. “Iwant to get back together. I want to fix what I did.”

“Youcan’t!” You threw your hands out in front of you just like he did his own.

“Notif you don’t let me!”

“Youslept with Carol, Billy!” Everyone heard you, there were eyes inthe kitchen window watching like they were in the nosebleeds of aconcert that was not going well. “In my bed. I was asleep on thecouch and you fucked your best friend’s girlfriend! How could you fixthat? How!?” Billy didn’t actually have a solution. His mind wasblank when it came to options. He was really just banking on youtaking him back and him making it up from there. He thought for sureyou missed him enough to forgive him his wrongdoing. Billy meant itwhen he said he learned his lesson. He really thought he would nevercheat on you again.

Indistress, fists shaking by his side, Billy stared down at the darktoes of his boots as he tried to compose himself. He hated himselfand was having a hard time keeping that inside.

“Iwill neverforgiveyou for making me feel like garbage. I am too good to be treated likethat.” It took a lot of listening to your best friends cuss out Billy in your bedroom to get that message across. Sometimes, it still took work to make it ring true.

“Iknow.” He admitted with a harsh inhale. “Can we go for a drive?Just…can we talk in the car?” Billy asked in a huff. He felt likeif he could just concentrate on the road and have you in a privatesetting that this would go better. He could convince you for one moreshot.

“Billy,”You looked up and cursed his name toward the sky, holding back anepic eye roll. “I don’t like you anymore.” It was as if you weretwo children on the playground and he had pushed you off the swingset one too many times. You enunciated every word clearly and heldhis stare to make sure he heard you. “I have to go because standinghere, talking to you, is painful,” You watched his blue eyes beginto melt behind a shield of warm tears. “This is killing me. If Igot in your car, I would have to start from scratch. So,please, if you care about me at all, let me go.” At the end, youtook a deep breath and let out your own tears as Billy’s own began tofall. He wiped under his face and tried to hold his face away from you.

“When you want to talk to me, I’m around, okay?” He barely got the words out. It was too hard to talk and feel sorry for himself at the same time. Billy didn’t give you the chance to say another word. He ran both hands through his hair and held it tight enough to hurt. Billy groaned at himself and turn took off. There was still sixwarm beers in his car to crush. There was still enough night left forhim to forget how much he fucked up and how much he missed you until the morning.

[walt-media]

@notjustaprincess-youknow

Vidia and Kiara are so beautifully portrayed by you. Seeing you on the dash is such a highlight even if we don’t have any threads happening at the moment. You are so sweet and I can’t wait to plot with you in the future.

Our characters haven't interacted much mostly bc im shit at replies and most of my children are asshats. BUT LEMME TELL YOU KIARA (YOU) AND KIARA (YOUR BBY) IS PERFECT IN EVERY WAY. Kiara is a sweetie and so is her bby, someone get this girl a kovu please<3 Also she's the jordan to my vic OOOPs

Kiara is a great person to plot with! Not only do I love her and her great spirit, she also puts such love in her characters and her plots. She is so creative and adds so many twists and turns (and depth!) to her characters' story that I am always taken aback by what she has in store! I love coming on and seeing a message from her because I know I'm going to be excited for what she has to say

kiara is highkey so awesome?? I love seeing her creative drabbles on my dash and her ability to bring a character to life and all her own is uncanny. I absolutely love her to death and am so happy to have her in my life.

I am constantly in awe of Kiara. I just love the way her brain works and how she writes all of her characters because they're all divine and precious in their own way. And she's smart?! Like, really freaking smart. Every interaction I've had with her, both in and out of character, is just a joy and this group wouldn't be the same without her.

Your Kiara is the most precious bad ass I have ever seen written. I love it. Plus you are always responding to everyone making everyone feel included.

Literal "about character" goals!

GIRL. I cannot even express my love for you. I’m not joking. You’re one of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of roleplaying against. Your girls own my heart and so do you. I’m so happy when I see you’re online because Kiara just lights up the whole freakin’ dash and Vidia is... well, she’s Vidia. And that’s a good thing. They are both amazing in their own very different ways. And their kids? Um, holy heck, I miss next gen just for them. I’ve seen you play so many types of characters and I love every single one of them. It’s been established: you can do anything. You could probably walk on water if you wanted to. (I wouldn’t suggest trying it, but, you know.) You are always fun to write against, whether it’s sunshine and rainbows or dark clouds and tornadoes. I always look forward to seeing one of your urls pop up in my activity and when you post aesthetics for any of your characters, I die a little inside. They are always so GOOD. Honestly I just love you. And your characters. And your writing. And your edits. And it’s nice to know that I can always count on you for a shot of angst when I need it.

Your character work is amazing and we're so blessed to have you around.

Real talk, I love the fact that you play Kiara not just because it makes remember your name easy but because you do it so damn well. She's such a fun mix of sass and dramatic and I get sucked into all of her convos, even when I'm not a part of them!

always up for plotting and making new friendships, great at playing her characters

Kiara is such a ray of sunshine and you play her and Vidia pretty damn well. I love reading your self paras and interacting with you, keep the good times coming.

[ylvaswrittenblog]

Ranma½ Bad girl AU drabble 3

Ok this took longer than expected to write. but now the third drabble on my AU is done. This time it will focus on a quite new ship of mine that I have started to like: Shamkyo(ShampooxUkyo). And in this AU Ukyo is non binary. 

Also a huge appreciation and a thank you to @padresmadres​ who helped me correcting it(or in fact all of my silly drabbles ily) <3 OK! I hope you’ll like it! 

“Does anyone knows you're here?” Ukyo asked in a concerned tone.

“No.” Shampoo answered. “But I can't be sure if anyone come and sees us.” She looked behind her back quite often and didn't seemed to be able to relax. Ukyo sighed and shook their head.

“Konatsu! Are you there?!”

And before anyone could blink, she stood kneeled before them with her back on the entrance.

“You called, master Ukyo?”

“ Would you go out and keep an eye if anyone is closing in to the restaurant. If anyone does, report to us immediately.”

“Yes! I will!” As quickly Konatsu had appeared, she was gone without a trace.

“You really seem to trust her a lot.” Shampoo said. She had her sight at the place Konatsu once stood.

“Well, if there's anyone who I could put my faith on completely, it's her.”

Shampoo rose an eyebrow and turned her sight right on Ukyo. “Really?”

Ukyo stood silent for a short time, and then suddenly a little snicker slipped out from their mouth.

“Well, is someone jealous or what?” Their voice sounded a little bit amused.

Shampoo frowned in an irritated look and didn't answered Ukyo's question. “So you don't even trust your other subordinates as much?”

“Well, do you?”

 “Fair point. I, if anyone, wouldn't be able to put my trust in others. Maybe except Mousse. He's after me like a loyal dog and would probably do whatever I told him.” Shampoo made a little pause and let out a sigh. Her brows were still furrowed, but now her look were more sad than irritated. “But despite that I wouldn't be able to tell him about us anyway, as you have with Konatsu. Since he has his really annoying crush on me, he probably wouldn't accept it, whatever I would say.”

Ukyo was quiet and listened while they were preparing the okonomiyaki. Ukyo felt their heart drop a little when they saw Shampoo's face. The one who's expression usually were so much of confidence and pride on the battlefield on the streets, were gloomy and had lost the sparks in her eyes.

Ukyo knew that they and Konatsu were the only ones who knew this side of Shampoo. The undefeated empress. The ruler of the streets who looked down on them all. The strong, beautiful, graceful leader who's subordinates looked up to with admiration and the enemies saw with fear.

On the streets, they were rivals. Enemies who would fight for overtaking the throne and to keep it. They would appear strong for both their respective gangs. Giving snarky remarks and make their followers rage and attack the other ones.

But they didn't rose a hand towards each others. They both says that they don't want to get their hands dirty with the other one's dirty blood. But they both knew it was a lie. It was obviously but it somehow worked. No one ever questioned them. They wouldn't dare to.

Ukyo also knew the price Shampoo pays to be the one on top. She had let it all out one evening when they had decided to battle one-on-one by themselves. Ukyo had accidentally struck a nerve and in a frustrated cry Shampoo had lost her defense and crumbled in front of them. In that moment, Ukyo didn't saw an enemy to defeat but instead a sad, lonely girl who had to put up a perfect facade to please others and protect herself from losing face. In that moment, Ukyo felt an incredibly feeling of empathy and sadness that overtook them. Before anyone knew what had happened, Ukyo had dropped their huge spatula and hugged Shampoo. No one said anything, but Shampoo had stopped to cry and instead of pushed Ukyo away, she had embraced them back instead. Squeezed them hard as she was afraid that Ukyo would disappear. It was in that moment they both knew that something bigger would happen between them.

Those feelings came back when Ukyo saw Shampoo's sad expression. It always did and Ukyo didn't like it. Sadness didn't suited this beautiful person who was sitting behind the desk. Ukyo bit their lips and left a frustrated sound.

Suddenly Ukyo jumped over the desk, stood beside a shocked Shampoo, placed their hands on her cheeks, and pressed their lips first on the forehead. Then on the right cheek and at last on the lips. The kiss on the lips were longer than the other ones. Just time enough for Shampoo to reply to the kiss by pressing back and nibble on Ukyo's upper lip. Then they slowly parted and gazed into each other's eyes.

“ You fool! The stove is on! You want to get burned?!” Shampoo suddenly busted out.

“Ooops!” Ukyo had for a moment forgotten that they were preparing okonomiyaki and had turned on the stove, in which they had jumped over. Ukyo left out an embarrassed laugh. “Haha! Well I guess I forgot it in the heat of the moment.”

Shampoo stared at Ukyo. Then a little smirk of amusement started to emerge on her face. “That was...a really bad joke.”

Ukyo smiled wide while looking at Shampoo who had left out in a giggle. Now that was something they thought would suit more of their beautiful, beloved girl.

“Hey, Ukyo?”

“Hmmm? What is it?”

“Your should look after your food.”

Ukyo's face froze. “SHIT!”

[h-g-sol]

So I’ve been writing on a plot bunny that came to mind sometime back when I started Ooops... I seriously need to get that story finished  Anywho this would be a continuation of this drabble. @sarielgrace​ since you are basically my beta (sounding board for most of my crackpot plotbunnies)   Under the cut to keep from cluttering Ya’ll’s dashes.

SFW Tiny!Rodimus and my oc Jordan & Skitter the scraplet roomba.

Jordan sighed as she tossed another bolt across her living room for Skitter to chase after, the little bot eagerly earning his name as he slid across the linoleum floor of the living room. "What am I going to do about you?" she sighed as the bot scrambled back to her it's optics bright and wide.

Skitter was probably the only one of her sister's experiments left in the house. The rest having been deemed too dangerous to be left unguarded by both Luke and Sarge, the ones that had been present in the house having been confiscated by the US Army. A minor peace of mind for Jordan, though she knew for a fact that they hadn't searched the lab...

She didn't even want to begin thinking about the teleporter in the lab... the first thing she had done was cut the power grid to the lab. There was no reason to even contemplate going into the lab so why supply unnecessary power to it? She tossed the last bolt for the bot to go munch on... she frowned as the bot scooped it up and chomped happily on it... she never did figure out why her sister had upgraded the glorified roomba to be able to process the rubbish that landed on the floor. Though she did think it weird that Skitter's favorite junk to eat was the random nut, bolt, or screw. The only thing it couldn't process well was...

“Ow!" the bot had came running back up and bumped her foot with something sharp, bringing her out of her thoughts. Jordan leaned over to rub her ankle as she glared at Skitter the little bot was gnawing on something plastic, the somewhat pointed end sticking out of it's mouth. "Skitter! Gimme that!" she reached to grab the piece. But as per the norm for most pets, the bot bolted. "No get back here!" she yelled as she raced after the roomba as it zipped away frantic in it's attempt to escape her. "Skitter!" 

Skitter led her on a merry chase through the living room and back into the kitchen before darting up the stairs. "SKITTER! I swear if you don't get back here-" she growled as she bounded up the stairs. The bot was at the end of the hall quivering as she turned from the stairs to glare at him.

"Don't you dare move." she growled as she slowly crept closer to the bot. Skitter watched with full trepidation as she made her way over him. The bot blinked upwards at her as she stopped. Jordan lunged forward as the bot gave a startle beep and bolted out from under her reaching hands. Jordan met the door the bot had been against with her head. She gave a sharp curse as she scrambled back to her feet and back downstairs after the roomba, never noticing that the door had popped open from the force of her blow.

"That's it you're going into the jar when I catch you!"

Rodimus had been stuck in this room for days. Stuck in this veritable oblivion with nothing but the lifeless figures of his friends and foes. Stuck in this gargantuan bedroom. 

When he had woken after his tumble off of the ledge that he had been standing upon he found himself tangled in a meshy bag filled with musty and dirty cloths.. It had taken him hours to get out of the mesh because his armor kept getting hung in the holes. Once he was free and able to really look at his surroundings he could only stare. And stare.

After he had gotten over his initial shock he spent the next few days trying to get out of the room with no success. He had tried the door but the knob wouldn't turn for him, He tried the window but it was heavy and warped shut as if it had been put under an insane amount of pressure at one point other. and the only vent he could find in the room was next to the ceiling on the one side of the room that didn't have a bookcase on it. 

And worse, if he really was in a human's bedroom - which he really really hoped was not the case- he was at most nine inches tall. And that alone made him want to scream.

But today was different.. today there was the noise of someone moving about in the rest of the building which had been void quiet minus the sound of birds outside in the yard. Whoever it was was relatively quiet as they moved about downstairs. At least they were before they shouted out, and there was the loud sounds of a chase happening... and finally the owner's voice grew clearer as the steps slowed to the other side of the doorway.

"Don't you dare move."

There was a crash against the door as they collided with a yell before hurrying away... Blessedly leaving the door that had popped open cracked.

"That's it you're going into the jar when I catch you!"

Rodimus waited long enough for the speaker to thunder away before getting the pit out of what had been his prison for the last few days.