#word blocks

[kensatou]

i'll let phie-san say it:

[reactionimagesdaily]

[nikniknikin]

E rated wip I've had for ages.

Scarian choking smut fic I keep telling myself I'm going to finish but I legit started this as my FIRST forray into the fandom a whole ass year ago. This is DONE ENOUGH and the rest of the ideas I had arent coming out. If I ever get the energy to come back to this I want to elaborate on the jump and the fight.

TW: Frottage, choking, under negotiated kink, canon typical violence death and suicide.

The desert nights are cold, and while dead bodies don’t produce heat, whatever arcane trickery keeps Scar animated burns white hot somewhere in his bones. It’s odd, he knows the wind coming through the arrowslits is frigid, his skin can still feel that, but his red heart keeps his core feeling warm as a bonfire. Grian on the other hand is shivering on the adjacent bed. His clipped wings are puffed up and tucked around his torso and Scar can hear his teeth chattering. He gazes at the perfectly oval shaped silhouette that his partner makes against the moonlight coming in through the window. The lump shivers. Macaws were a tropical species right? The thin woolen blanket must not be cutting it for the poor bird. Well he can’t let that go on now can he, especially not when he’s uncomfortably warm. He speaks in a raspy stage whisper, voicing a question he very well knows the answer to. 

“Psst- you still awake?” 

He hears a put upon sigh then the lump shifts. 

“Yes.” 

“Cause you’re cold?”

“Freezing actually.”

“Here, take my blanket, I don’t need it.” Scar sits up and tosses his blanket over Grian, who immediately flaps a wing and flails an arm to jostle it off of him and back to Scar’s side of the doubled up beds.

“Wha- no. You’re cold too, surely?”

“Y’see that’s the thing G, since I went red I feel like a furnace. Whatever’s in here keeping me kicking,” he pats a fist to his bare gray chest, “it’s giving off plenty of heat in the process.” 

“Really?” Grian reaches out a hand without thinking, but stops just short of touching Scar’s shoulder as his mind catches up with his curiosity. He tries to mask the hover-handing as just reaching over for the blanket, but Scar’s eyes glint with keen recognition, and he doesn’t let Grian just brush the gesture off. 

“Really,” he confirms, “here, touch my muscles, go ahead.” Grian sighs and rolls his eyes, but when Scar takes him by the wrists and pulls his hands towards his collarbone he doesn’t resist the motion.He makes a halfhearted grumble of protest, a quiet but fond you ridiculous man under his breath. Despite that he doesn’t pull away. The warmth coming off him really is welcome and frankly a little fascinating. He may have his fingerprints on the scaffolding of this universe, but that doesn’t mean that here from inside it he knows everything about their revivals. Corpses are supposed to be cold, but Scar feels feverish. With his new gray complexion it reminds him of putting his hands on sun warmed smooth stone, but soft. Scar twitches at his touch, a high pitched ooh coming along with it. 

“You weren’t kidding. Your fingers are like icicles.”

Grian smirks at the noise, moving his cold hands up to either side of Scar’s incredibly warm neck. This gets a full squeak out of him, Grian giving a satisfied hum in response.

“Hey you asked for this, no take backs.” 

“I did, I did. You did so good today, you deserve to stick your little popsicle hands anywhere you want.” 

Grian snickers, but before he has a chance to respond, Scar tilts his head, covering his fingers with his cheek. The other Scar puts a hand over, encasing both of Grian’s hands with warmth from all sides. He lets out a long, fully involuntary sigh of relief and feels his shoulders and wings relax as his shivers finally subside. He grapples with his pride for one moment longer, but ultimately shifts closer and cuddles up to Scar’s chest. His head slots neatly beneath Scar’s chin. When Scar talks Grian feels the movement against his hair, and feels the reverberations from his throat.

“Seriously Grian, that triple you got woke me up in a way.”

“Good to know you’ve been sleeping on the job.”

“No, I mean that I get it now. Red life stuff. Hearing you cackling at the explosion made me want to kill.” 

That prompts a breathy little laugh from Grian followed by a half exasperated finally. 

“I do Grian really, I want to kill.” “Good.”

It becomes a whispered mantra, Scar reverently repeating I want to kill against the shell of his ear, the curve of his jaw, the column of his neck, just over his lips. Grian smiles and whispers back yes, yes, yes, each time, like praising a dog that’s finally mastered a challenging trick. His tone is giddy and gleeful, and his smile is bright and sharp right up until the moment that Scar’s hands wrap around his neck and squeeze. 

“Grian, I want to kill. I want to kill. I want to kill.” 

“Yes, good, yes, ye-ghhk.”

The word catches in his throat as Scar’s grip tightens and Grian’s face goes slack with shock. His open mouth flaps, once, twice, and again as his brain tries to process what’s happening. Confusion finally blooms into panic as his pulse thunders in his ears and his hands fly up to claw at Scar’s wrists. To his surprise they come away easily, and in an instant he has Scar’s wrists pinned to the wall behind his head. His red eyes are suddenly full of remorse and even something bordering on fear.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not sure what that was. It just, it’s just like pushing Ren off that cliff. I didn’t think it’d work, it was just too tempting not to. It feels so good to tease.”

Grian draws in a shaky breath as he feels a cold draft hit the back of his neck. Scar was just fooling around, like he did with everything. He wasn’t ever a real threat. Besides, even if he was wouldn’t it be fair? He’d pledged his green life to Scar, but if he wanted to waste that gift then that was his right after all. He doesn’t want to go yellow, but he’s not backing out of his vow. This life was Scar’s to do with as he wished. Something about the comparison to Ren rattles around in his head. Scar was right, they’d all agreed to this. Immortals playing at feeling real deaths. They all wanted to know how mortality really tasted. He releases his hold on Scar’s wrists and hunkers down beneath the blanket again, tucking his frame against Scar’s once again to hide from the chill night around them.

“Tease all you want but remember, if I go yellow I’m gone.” 

“No, no, no I don’t want that. I need you here with me.” 

Scar’s arms circle around him and rub his back. His tone is gentle and almost pleading. Grian tries to relax in his hold, but the shot of adrenaline he’d gotten from being choked has other plans. It’s late, in the morning he has more work to do on the creeper farm, and he needs his rest, but his mind is buzzing and his blood is pumping, and Scar is so close and so warm and being so frustratingly tender. Grian is disappointed in his body but not surprised to find he’s hard as a rock. He tangles their legs together, unsubtly pressing himself against Scar’s thigh.

“I said tease all you want, and I meant it.”

“Oh? Oh! Oh-kay.” 

It takes Scar a beat to understand, but once he does he smirks and rolls them so that Grian is straddling him. His hands trace down to the waist of his pants making quick work of Grian’s fly and then his own. He tugs at their pants, dislodging them just enough to get their cocks free, careful of how much skin he’s exposing to the night air. To Grian’s delight he’s not the only one riled up by what just happened, and they both gasp in relief at finally getting some much needed skin to skin friction. Scar guides Grian’s hand down to circle the two of them, then brings his own hands back up to toy with the red neckline he suddenly can’t keep his eyes off of.  

“You set the pace down there, alright? And tap out if you start seeing dots or stars or anything, got it?” 

Grian nods eagerly and starts stroking lazily, once again relishing the extra heat coming from Scar’s skin. His eyelids flutter when Scar’s hands start squeezing his neck again. Before it was a sudden vice grip, but this time it’s a caress that slowly builds in force. He feels Scar’s cock twitch in his hand when he swallows reflexively at the increasing pressure, then soon enough he can’t swallow at all. He would be worried about starting to drool, but he’s locked eyes with Scar now and his partner is giving him a look. A smile so hungry and adoring that it’s hard to focus on anything other than the twinkle in his ruby red eyes and the heat pooling low in his guts. His hand speeds up but it’s not nearly enough. His lungs begin to burn, the muscles in his chest flex, trying in vain to pull in air, but Scar’s hands hold him firm. He grinds his hips down and uses his free hand to make sure they’re perfectly lined up, chasing the heat and sensation he’s desperate for. Scar’s chest rises and falls with long slow breaths that make Grian pang with envy. Each second drags out between them.

Eventually Scar’s breath starts coming heavier, something wild and deliciously brutal blooming behind his eyes. Grian ruts against him harder, faster, but it’s still not enough. He wants to come. He needs to breathe. He feels so good. He feels like he’s dying. His eyes start to roll back and everything gets shaky and blurry. He’s not blacking out, he’s just convulsing with need and want and need and want. He tries to swallow again, but all that happens is a little gurgle, and Scar groans at that. Low and long and indulgent, and Grian throbs in his own hand at the sound. He’s grateful that he’s unable to whimper the way he knows he would if any sound could escape his constricted throat. Head swimming, muscles rigid, cock leaking, he’s on the verge of tapping out when Scar releases his neck. He drinks down the chilly night air greedily and as that first gulp hits his oxygen deprived brain he comes hard enough to make his toes curl. 

Scar’s hands, still cradling his neck, slide up to cup the back of his head and pull him down into a long kiss. Grian is still too shell shocked from being choked and his subsequent orgasm to do much more than gape his mouth dumbly and heave deep breaths through his nose as Scar licks into him deep and hungrily. Eventually he gains enough composure to start kissing back, and it’s only then he realizes he’s tasting something bitter and pungent and familiar. He pulls back, sitting up and looking down at Scar quizzically. There’s a smear of pearly cum on his chin and across his lips. Grian giggles, impressed and incredulous. 

“Oh wow. I hit your face? I’ve never shot so far.” 

Scar takes one hand off of him to wipe at what remains on his face and licks himself clean, smile all smugness and satisfaction. 

“Do I win a prize?”

Grian wants to hate it, but watching that tongue glide along his fingers is making his stomach flip. The heat meets the brick wall of his refractory period though, so rather than a needy whine in response he manages a content sigh. 

“Mmmm, other than the treat you just cleaned up? Gimmie a moment to think of something- my head's still a bit fuzzy. Unless…you had something in mind already?”

-grian lazily smooches 

-blowjob

-pillow talk

“But you don’t need to be adorable, you need to be bloodthirsty. Today went well but you’ve got to start taking the lead on the killing. I’m pushing the rules as it is.” 

Scar nuzzles against him, “I think I can be both. Adorbs- Abdor- Adorabloodthirsty. Got a nice ring to it, as long as I can get my dyslexia around it, right?”

“Fine. Adorabloodthirsty, but heavy on the latter half, okay?” 

“I will be so thirsty for you Grian, just you wait.”

“Scar!”

--------------------------------------

“Let’s let the ghosts count us in.”

On three hearts Scar turns and flees the cactus ring, but he doesn’t get far. Clumsy from taking so many hits to the head he stumbles, and that’s all it takes for Grian to catch up and tackle him to the ground. They grapple momentarily on soot stained sand and land in a sickeningly familiar pose. Grian straddles him, but this time it’s his own hands doing the choking. Scar is smiling, would be laughing even, if he could take in any air. 

Choking him would be too slow. He’d withstood easily a minute or two during their recreational strangling and he knows he can’t look down at that bloodied smile for so long. He can’t bear it, so he pulls up, raises Scar’s head up an inch or two, then slams it back down on the sandstone beneath them. There’s a wet thud, and Scar’s smile breaks, shattering into an instinctive grimace. Grian does it again, and again, and again. He sobs dryly, each crack of Scar’s skull followed by a ruthless and empty I’m sorry. He does it until the grimace goes slack and Scar’s eyes go glassy. Then he’s alone on monopoly mountain. Alone save for the howling ghosts congratulating and condemning him in equal measure. He thinks Scar might be in that ethereal crowd too now. He should be right? Just another soul bound up in this game? But there’s no cheery baritone congratulating him from beyond the grave. The watchers are still hungry, and he has the makings of one last meal in him. 

He stands, shaky on his feet, and trudges towards the cliff. He looks out over the crater, his greatest failed trap of all. Nonetheless, pride blooms in his queasy stomach, and if he was sticking around he’d be worried about the bile rising in his throat. As it is there’s no time for that because keeps his wings tucked firmly to his sides as he leaps into a freefall.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Another Topics List

Word lists may be helpful for some people to overcome writer's block.

PERSONAL FEELINGS, OPINIONS, AND EXPERIENCES (Adjectives)

PLACES: Buildings

PLACES: Countryside

PLACES: Towns & City

WEATHER

Source: Cambridge English: Preliminary and Preliminary for Schools Vocabulary List (2012)

More: Word Lists ⚜ Topics Lists

[linkeduniverse]

Central Room pt.1 <<Previous                 Next>> (coming soon)

ComicArchive/ About / Linktree

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

in this house we love the artists and engineers and actors who worked on arcane so much that we will not share the leaks

remember that the people who really suffer from leaks are regular people like you and me who worked hard for weeks, months, and years to make this show a reality

[tragedykery]

I ❤️ self-loathing characters, characters who struggle with monstrosity (either fearing or embracing it), characters who are so lonely, who have a gaping hole in their chest, who bottle up & repress their feelings, who claw their way up & have ambitions, who fall down & lose everything, who search for identity & purpose yet can’t see themselves outside of what others want from or expect of them, who are hurt & hurt others, who long & grieve, who lie & pretend. characters who are messy & flawed & human

[saryasy]

he should be more of a bitch actually 🫶 (part 2)

[lightboundhellhound]

edit: currently lamenting the fact that i didn’t think of “all of the above” …

[s-soulwriter]

Dark past ideas

A dark past can be really intresting in books .here are some ideas:

Mysterious Orphanage Escapee: A character who grew up in a sinister orphanage and narrowly escaped its dark secrets.

Traumatic War Survivor: A soldier who witnessed unspeakable horrors on the battlefield, leaving deep emotional scars.

Secret Criminal Past: A reformed criminal who once led a life of violence, but is now trying to make amends.

Kidnapped as a Child: A character who was abducted at a young age and endured years of captivity before escaping.

Tragic Family Betrayal: A character who was betrayed by a close family member, leading to a life filled with distrust and pain.

Cult Escapee: Someone who managed to break free from a dangerous cult, but is haunted by their past involvement.

Haunted by a Violent Crime: A person who accidentally caused harm to someone in their past and has been tormented by guilt ever since.

Dark Addiction: A character who battled a severe addiction that nearly destroyed their life before seeking recovery.

Betrayed by a Friend: A friend who turned out to be a traitor, leading to significant emotional trauma.

Abandoned in Isolation: Someone who was left alone and abandoned in a desolate place, struggling to survive.

Witness to a Murder: A character who saw a murder as a child and was forever scarred by the experience.

Childhood Experimentation: A person who was subjected to unethical scientific experiments in their youth, leaving lasting physical and emotional scars.

Kidnapped and Forced into Crime: A character who was abducted and forced to commit criminal acts against their will.

Betrayed by a Mentor: Someone who was betrayed by a trusted mentor, leading to a deep sense of betrayal and loss.

Survived Natural Disaster: A survivor of a catastrophic natural disaster who lost everything they held dear.

Abusive Relationship Escapee: A person who managed to escape an abusive relationship, but continues to struggle with the trauma.

Witness to a Dark Ritual: A character who stumbled upon a sinister occult ritual in their past, leaving them haunted by the experience.

Family Curse: A character burdened by a dark family curse that has brought suffering to generations.

Identity Theft and Framing: A person who had their identity stolen and was wrongfully accused of crimes they didn't commit.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Dom!reader x sub!scarletella

Warning: fictional stuff - stimulation through a separate object (?), inspired by some fanarts (artists are amazing), teasing, degrading pet names

I’m seeing so many fanarts that have this implanted and I HAVE to do something about my horniness that’s holding me back from working so, as far as I understand, for mr. Scarlettela his real body is his umbrella or it’s at least connected to him - anyway, can’t believe I’m writing about homicipher bruh, I feel ashamed T^T

!!Spoiler warning!! This is not canon but has some elements from it

He is a good boy, he really is! Well, maybe not at all times, but he’s trying his best for you. And haven’t you seen just how much he loves and trusts you? He’s basically devoted to you! Like a faithful follower~ Handing the red umbrella he always carries over to you so easily, when he normally would never let anyone touch it, let alone give or lend it. It’s just proof of how much he likes you!

So why were you so mean and destroyed it? You like him, didn’t you know that his umbrella is connected to him? Why were you hurting him. He didn’t understand, he didn’t even know what to do. Because in the end, he still liked you.

Now this over 8 feet tall creature was kneeling in front of you, head lowered in confusion as he stared at the concrete floor. You were still holding the now broken umbrella, scoffing as you stared down at his rather pathetic form. It wasn’t entirely broken, just some bend metal and rough ends, or a little tear here and there. Yet for some reason his clothes were torn and disheveled, hands shaking slightly as he kept mumbling the words ‘I don’t understand’ or ‘I like you’ over and over again. At first he seemed intimidating, but now you didn’t have an ounce of fear left.

There must have been a connection between him and this umbrella. Instead of speculating, best just ask him.

Slowly you pointed the long object in your hand at him, the tip pushed below his chin as you made him look up at you. His round, almost completely dark eyes stared right at you, one side was covered by his crimson hair. There were tears steaming down his cheeks, he was crying, how unexpected. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, and you wondered what you should do about this crazed man.

While their language was hard to grasp at first, you were getting the hang of it by now. “This umbrella, is you?” The meaning of the question itself was unbelievable, but since this ghost realm exists, maybe your hypothesis wasn’t that out of place. “Yes. Me body.” Look at that, you were right. That explains why he suddenly got so sad. You groaned internally and pulled your arm back, using the umbrella as a cane instead.

As you were still thinking over your next step, his hands reached out to you hesitantly, and softly tugged at the ends of your coat. After stretching the fabric out a little, he leaned his forehead against it, mumbling almost inaudibly, “please don’t go, I like you.” You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth subconsciously moving upwards as you snickered, “What?” His grip got a little tighter and his hand trembled from tensing his muscles so much, then he said a little louder, “I like you, don’t you like me?”

God you wanted to laugh, this was so sad it was laughable. How in the world did he come to that conclusion? In that moment, you had a lot to say it him, but due to the language barrier you couldn’t convey it really well. So you just talked to yourself, needing some time to vent.

“Oh you poor thing.” You chuckled in your own language, the one he didn’t understood. “What am I supposed to do with a perv like you?” He looked up at you again, wanting to ask what you said if not for your shoes that were pressing against his chest. “..what?” The person- or monster asked, but he didn’t resist your touch and leaned back, following your guidance. From earlier up to this point, he has been kneeling, just this time he was also using his arms behind his back to stabilise himself.

Without changing the almost arrogant look in your eyes, you used the gift he gave you to trace some imaginary lines on his body. The tip glided from his jawline to the tip of his chin, and you asked, “your name?” The heavy tension was something he also caught on, and he hesitated, not knowing to what this would lead. He shook his head, forcing out a “don’t know…”

You hummed slowly, showing you understood the message. Nonetheless, you continued to move the tip down his neckline all the way to his toned collarbones, “I’ll give you a name.” His eyes widened even more, it made him look objectively creepier, but you thought he looked like a dumb puppy. All big eyes, bearing a deep need and raw desire in his pupils. “How about,” then, just like drawing with a stick in the mud, you traced the word, “Scarlet,” over his chest, simultaneously voicing out the word.

He shuddered as the hard surface scribbles around his torso, squeezing his lips together while he tried to stay still for you. You weren’t being exactly gentle there. When you stopped to glance at him, he quickly nodded. That wasn’t the end to your little play yet, and you slid the pointy end across his abs and stomach, down to his thighs, making him spread them a little wider, “I gave you a name, so you’ll be my servant from now on. Understood?” This has been said in your language, but you hoped he’ll get the overall meaning.

Again he nodded. In his head, being your servant meant you liked him, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep him around! So how could he ever say no.

“Use your mouth.” You ordered, digging the tip into his flesh a little, and he answered shortly after, “I understand, me happy.” Sweat was forming on his forehead, and his previous crying ceased. Instead a faint taint of pink covered his cheeks, and he stared at you almost manically. “Good.” You said, which was basically a praise— right? —and he smiled, a shaky, breathless one.

A little behind you was a chair, and you dragged it closer to the still kneeling man below you. Even you were starting to get tired of standing, so you sat down in a comfortable position. “What now.” You said to yourself, not really paying him any attention anymore. It would be nice if you had a collar, would red or black look better on him? But your resources were limited, and you didn’t exactly have a lot of things with you as well. That’s when you absentmindedly thought over what you did own.

Besides that crowbar you’ve found down here, you really didn’t have a lot. Well, you also had a broken umbrella now— hold up, that’s right, you own him now. A rather sadistic thought came to mind, and you pondered to what limit you could control him with this red, unusual umbrella. Would he feel your presence when you just hold it? You got lost in your thoughts again, fumbling with the torn textile and the handle. This didn’t stop until a strange sound caught your attention.

Your eyes left the red batch of fabric in your hands, and instead wandered to the other red thing in the room. He crawled into a ball, arms folded in front of his body while his head pressed against the ground. It looked like he was in pain again, though you weren’t sure if these noises were whimpers of pain or pleasure. “You okay?” You eventually asked, and he whispered in a higher pitch, “me okay..!”

Once again your gaze returned to the umbrella. He must be in this state due to something you did, and so you tightened your grip around the handle while mindlessly drawing a line with your index finger on the panel. As expected, his shoulder jerked upwards even more, and he rolled more together, as if he wanted to take up as little space as possible. His entire body was twitching, also for some reason his coat was only hanging off his arms now.

“You are into it.” You commented, not even too shocked to learn this rather unnecessary fact. At least you can have your fill of fun with this. “What about this?” Suddenly you started moving your hand up and down the handle, rubbing the umbrella panel with the other hand. It was a truly humbling experience to do something implied sexual to a literal object, but your eyes were glued to the ghost before you, so you didn’t even notice how weird it must have looked.

And sure enough, there was a change in his behaviour, he got louder. Your smile widened involuntarily, and your pace also got quicker and rougher. Oh fucking hell, if he was really feeling that kind of sensations, you won’t be able to stop yourself. It was like you were hypnotised, concentrated on nothing but his expressions. On the different ways his face twisted into one of ecstasy.

A big, dark, lunatic grin, paired with fanatic eyes that were ripped wide open. Some hints of a scarlet blush covering his face while sweat rolled down his face. Those perverse sounds he made were proof of the probably internal pleasure he felt, and he quivered all over, still bend down on the floor. Now that you’ve got a better grasp of what was happening, you realized he was crawled together to hide something.

“Ngh, hgGnn- ah..! Please…♥︎～” he whined at your feet, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and landing on the floor. You’ve been fumbling with the handle for some time, so you’ve gotten bored again and was curious about if the textile was a part of his being as well. Without a second thought, you simply stuck two fingers between the folds, and you were met with a heavily muffled moan.

“Arghhh-…MmmHFfffF～ ♡♡♥︎” Once he felt your touch, he bit into his own palm to quiet himself down. At some point he started crying again, glistening tears decorating his already ruined face. You didn’t think his reaction would be this good, this lewd, whatever you did, he must have liked it a lot. Which is why, despite the absurdity of your actions, you moved your fingers in and out of the holes or just randomly caressed whatever part you felt like touching.

Out of nowhere you felt something tugging at your coat again, it gave off a sense of Deja vu. Of course it was him, who was only pinching the corner of it with a shaky hand. His grip had lost any strength compared to before, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. “What?” You asked him, though you didn’t stop your administrations. He cried out when he opened his mouth to speak, breaking down in front of you, for your entertainment only.

“Haaaa-HnnGh… wait, p-please wait-!♡” Was he telling you it was too much? It’s making you want to overstimulated him even more. He was being so pathetic it was cute. Without wasting a single second, you went as fast as you could, blatantly ignoring his pleads. Based on your own observations, he must have been close, if he was similar to a real person. “Feels good?” You asked, to make sure he was alright. He didn’t reply again and only nodded all weakly, but you’ll let it slide this time.

He felt so hot and strange, it was a nice but unfamiliar feeling. Not only that, he felt something burning building up inside him and it was threatening to spill. That’s why he wanted you to slow down. Poor thing was confused, absolutely baffled what this warm feeling was. Is it love? It must be love. He loved you and you loved him after all. All in all it wasn’t a bad feeling, and since you seemed happy, he is too!

Another sudden wave of pleasure coursed through him, his eyes were clouded with lust and bliss, and the dirty whimpers that slipped past his lips got more erotic by the second. How desperate and lovesick he sounded, begging, pleading, squirming and trashing around on the spot. Thighs pressed together while his toes curled, back arched as a last moan ripped from his throat, “nnNgGHhh ♡♥︎ ♡～” Just as you predicted, that must have been his climax. Now’s the question, did he came in his pants? Did such things still have a reproductive system?

My my, it seems that is the case, whatever it was it seeped through the dark fabric of hi trousers, causing an even darker spot to appear.

You only caught glimpses of it since he was hiding his own body so much, but you were content nevertheless. Since he was so obedient the entire time, you decided to be nice to him with the limited vocabulary you had. “Cute.” His kneeling figure was still shuddering and twitching, ragged gasps and pants were also coming from him. But for him, the only thing he could hear was your voice ringing and echoing in his mind, as well as the awfully loud beats of his own heart.

After all this time, you finally praised him! Well you did before but this time he was sure of it! And you found him cute! He was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning. That’s when you said, “do you want anything?” It was to kind of make up for making a fool out of him, or maybe for breaking his umbrella. He didn’t even think before quickly turning his head up, slurring out, “g-give me you name?” You blinked, that wouldn’t have been what you wished for but oh well. Right before you simply told him the answer you stopped yourself, and responded teasingly, “call me master.”

You weren’t sure if he knew the meaning behind it, but it didn’t matter. He had a blank look for a few seconds, mumbling to himself, most likely repeating that word a thousand times. While he did that, he let his head hang low again, facing the floor. His hair hid his face really well, and you couldn’t read his expression. “You alright?” You asked once the silence started to make you feel uneasy.

He placed both his hand on the floor and leaned down, until his face was hovering centimetres above your shoe, and he whispered eagerly, excessively so, “I’m happy, master. I love you.” Before kissing the tip of your shoe. You stared down in disbelief, a shiver running down your spine. He was more of a freak than you thought.

The moment he was done, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, proceeding to yank on it, making him face you on eye-level while he gasped in surprise. Your other hand clutched the umbrella more tightly, causing him to groan slightly. “Stupid dog.” You chuckled with a sinister smile spread across your face, watching as hearts appeared in the middle of his pupils.

[magpie-trinkets]

SHE SMILES HARDER! If I didn't know better, I would say she is sneezing. But I never smile when I sneeze. It's difficult!

[contagious-watermelon]

Why do I keep seeing transmascs and trans men insisting or implying that all trans men are "female socialized," or "understand the female experience," or "navigated the world as a woman." Because yeah, sure, that can be true for some people. especially if you weren't gnc at all as a kid and didn't crack your egg until well into adulthood, it makes sense.

But they don't stop at saying they had that experience. It always comes with an addendum that trans men, as a group, all can relate to this experience. I don't know about the entirety of my demographic, but I never got even a little bit of what some of them talk about. I didn't even believe that women were scared of going out at night until I kept consistently seeing them say it, online or wherever, for years. I never realized catcalling was a thing until I saw some women complaining about it on reddit.

But they posit it as some sort of, you're safer than cis men, right? You know what it's like? Which, on top of being patently, demonstrably false in the case of myself and many other trans men, holds some unpleasant and often outright hostile implications about trans women. And they always deny it, but if you can't even conceptualize someone like me who grew up gnc, and never got the bulk (or any?) of whatever we consider to be 'female socialization,' what does that say about what you think trans girls went through, growing up? I don't want to speak for them, as I've never experienced that firsthand, but I can guarantee that (if you're even a little bit obviously trans) people don't treat you like a cis kid of the opposite gender. By and large, they don't get treated like cis boys.

It just makes me mad that we're taking this inaccurate framework that (ever so conveniently) puts trans people into the box of our assumed birth gender, and trying to fancy it up and use it with a faux-progressive veneer; never mind the way that transphobes use it to bar trans women from being athletes, or using the bathroom, or having access to any gendered resources they need. It would be bad enough to try and dust it off and use it even if it were largely accurate, due to the aforementioned connections to outright transphobia, but it literally is patently false. Not in all cases, obviously, but why are we trying to revamp this untrue, inaccurate generalization and pretend that we can make it 'trans-inclusive?'

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Topics List: Sweets

Word lists may be helpful for some people to overcome writer's block.

CAKES

CANDY

CHOCOLATE

CONFECTIONS

COOKIES

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Topics Lists

[bonefall]

Anyway. Bi and Mspec Lesbians aren't a hotly "debated" topic or even new to queer culture, it's just the newest thing that bullies who REALLY want to be homophobic and even racist use to justify harassing gay people they don't like.

It's the thinnest possible veneer of progressive language wrapped around TERF and reactionary rhetoric so that they can feel righteous for forming an angry mob against vulnerable targets. If you're gullible enough to fall for the newest wave of bigotry within the queer community, and turn on your allies because they're "confusing" or "invading your spaces," the SAME way they turned on bi/pan labels, trans people, xenogenders, neopronouns, and aroace people before this, then get lost.

[acewithapaintbrush]

Saw @artsymeeshee hospital sketches of the sea grunks and thought to myself, is this finally my time to write some brotherly angst for these two? The answer is yes. Short but sweet, please enjoy.

******************************

The first thing Stan becomes aware of is the noise.

A constant beeping right next to his ear. Loud and high-pitched and repetitive and unfortunately very familiar to an old grifter with bad luck like him. He would be a lot more annoyed with this sound if his last clear memory wasn't of roaring waters rushing past his ears, stealing his hearing and leaving nothing but white noise behind.

He'd rather take the beeping.

Next comes taste, which, ugh! He could have gone without that! The feel of scratchy sheets is not much better but it tells him that he is in one of the better hospitals. Believe it or not, the better the hospital, the scratchier the sheets. Ford should cool it with the mystical beasts and research what's up with that!

Speaking of Ford.

Stan keeps his breathing even as he slowly opens his eyes. The light has been dimmed in anticipation and he blinks a couple times at a ceiling that is painted a nondescript beige color. He looks at it for a moment and for some strange reason he suddenly feels a fierce urge to video call Mabel.

But first things first.

Stan slowly turns his head to the side which actually hurts. Don't they have him on the good stuff?

Just as he expected, there is his brother. Ford has squeezed himself into the same bed as Stan, facing his brother's prone form. Stan can't help but smile. His brother must have bullied the nurses into letting him stay. The bed is way too small for two grown men but somehow the genius has managed to practically fold himself into a compact ball, leaving enough room for all those fancy machines connected to the patient. One of his hands lightly rests against Stan's chest which he hasn't even noticed until now.

Ford's eyes are closed but he is mumbling under his breath, reciting one of his journal entries from memory.

Stan winces. His brother must be really rattled by this little mishap.

‘Great job giving the guy another thing to worry about, Stanley!’

“I think climbing into the hospital bed with the patient is against the rules, Sixer? You are not supposed to do that.”

He was going for levity and humor but his hoarse voice kinda ruins that.

Ford's eyes don't snap open. He doesn't gasp or jerk upright or anything like that. Instead he takes a shuddering breath and deliberately opens his eyes. They find Stanley immediately and there is not a hint of surprise in them. Stan wonders how long Ford has known that he's awake.

“Same to you,” Ford says and his voice is so flat it causes a shiver to run down Stan's spine.

“Hey, s’not like I planned for this to happen.”

“I would be very cross with you if you had planned falling overboard, Stanley.”

Ford's emotions still feel weirdly flat. He isn't even lecturing and scolding Stan for his reckless behavior, just presses his six-fingered hand against his chest and stares at him with those blank eyes.

“I'm alright.” Stan shifts so he can face his brother and, damn, those ribs are definitely cracked. He briefly wonders if that happened in the fall or whether someone had to do CPR on him and quickly decides that maybe he doesn't want to know. Close call. Much too close. “I'm alright, Ford,” he repeats as if that makes it true.

For the first time an emotion flickers through Ford's face. He narrows his eyes and for a moment Stan thinks he's angry but then a single tear runs down an unshaven cheek, immediately seeping into the pillow.

“I thought I lost you for good,” Ford whispers, voice tortured. “I couldn't find you. For the longest time. I looked and I looked and you were just… gone. I couldn't find you!”

‘Same to you,’ Stan echoes with a bit of a bitter edge, mind replaying thirty years of hunching down in a dusty basement in a matter of seconds.

But this is not about him and Stan is, no matter what some might want to tell you, not an insensitive asshole.

“You did find me,” he says. He doesn't actually know if that's true. The time after he fell into the ocean during that storm is still a bit of a mystery to him. All he remembers is the noise of the water and how cold he felt and a voice screaming his name, over and over, growing fainter with each wave crashing over his head.

But Ford needs some reassurance right now. And the best way to reassure Ford that Stan is alright is by proving his alrightness with a good, old Pines hug.

He lightly pulls at the hand on his chest and with a cut off gasp Ford immediately obliges, scooting closer until they are entwined with one another just like they were as kids when the nightmares became too much to remain separated by a bunk bed.

“You found me.” Stan repeats and ignores the tears soaking into his hospital gown.

‘That's what we do,’ he thinks with a content smile, eyes falling shut with exhaustion. ‘We always find each other again.’