#writing's supposed to be fun right? right???

[nerdy-novelist017]

i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club. 

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door. 

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking. 

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation. 

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you? 

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore. 

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent. 

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you. 

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence. 

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.” 

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you. 

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look. 

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say. 

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.” 

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you. 

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times. 

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!” 

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict  @elizabeth916  @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @dudii4love @ironmooncat  @beebeechaos  @astrogrande  @pearlparty  @themorriganisamonster  @sillylittlethrowaway  @ughdontbeboring  @penwieldingdreamer  @charmingballoon  @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans  @groovyangelkisses  @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit  @pomtherine  @tranquilty  @m00npjm  @twisteduniverse5  @justsomewritingblog  @nhlfs  @thepassionatereader  @rebecca-hvnstn  @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations  @buckysteveloki-me  @simsiddy  @zablife  @sansaorgana  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @charmingballoon  @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey  @cynic-spirit @pomtherine  @ilovehyperfixating  @xcallmetaniax  @lovenewfandoms  

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Waiting on You

Day #2 - Prompt: Hands | Word Count: 448 | Rating: T | CW: Hospitalization | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Healing, Caretaker Steve Harrington

His hands are warm. 

That's the first thought Eddie has as he starts to come around. He knows it's Steve, has heard him talking to the kids, to Wayne, off and on all morning. Eddie's been here, sort of, skirting the edges of consciousness for a while now. In and out, without being able to really push through to let them know he's still here.

That he's coming back, if they'll just give him a little more time. To not give up on him, not yet.

He realized quickly that they're all taking turns sitting next to his bed. Uncle Wayne, Steve, the kids. 

And when they do, somebody usually has a hold of his hand, like it's a requirement for keeping Eddie tethered to the earth. 

Maybe it is.

But he's learned the differences. They all touch him, hold his hand, squeeze him, differently. But this is Steve, Eddie's sure of it. It's not rough or callused or dry enough to be Wayne. It's not sweaty and desperate enough to be Dustin.

Dustin clings. Squeezes, as if that could wake Eddie up.

Gareth, too. 

Both kids always feel like they're holding onto him for dear life. Eddie wants to tell them he's okay, or that he will be, but he hasn't been able to push through to the surface. Not yet. 

Steve's different.

Steve's hand is just a warm, solid presence. Not really demanding anything of him, so Eddie supposes it's fitting that this is the hand grasping his when he finally wakes up. Eddie does things on his own terms, always has, and he figures waking up from a coma is no different.

Eddie gives Steve's hand a squeeze, Steve squeezes back, but keeps talking to Dustin. Maybe this is something Eddie's done before, like, involuntarily? Eddie doesn't remember. So he squeezes harder, and that's when the talking stutters and ceases.

"He just squeezed my hand," Steve says.

"He does that. You know he does," Dustin says, sounding distant and far away.

"Not like this," Steve says, then suddenly, even if Eddie can't see him, Eddie knows he's much closer, face right above his. Eddie can sense it.

"Eddie? You with us?" Steve asks.

Eddie can't seem to open his eyes yet, but he squeezes back again, long and deliberate this time, hoping that gets the message across. 

It must.

"Call Wayne," Steve suddenly says, and then there's a hand on Eddie's forehead. The same kind of warm palm that's still gripping his hand. 

It feels nice. 

Eddie squeezes Steve's hand one more time for good measure, and Steve laughs, and says, oh so close to his face, "Hi. Welcome back. We've been waiting on you."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

[cheeseceli]

With a short s/o

Pairing: ot7 BTS × Gn!reader

Genre: headcanons, fluff

Request: Can you write a scenario where the boys (BTS) react to their S/O being really short, like 4ft 6in?

Warnings: none I can think of

A/n: don't you just love when Hobi | Palestine fundraiser

Jin

Honestly he finds you so cute. He will try to not exaggerate it, but sometimes he just can't help but coo at you and smile all lovesick at you because why are you so adorable?? You could just be living your normal life without noticing him but he'd be admiring you with such a cute smile because that's how much he adores you.

Suga

Once again, bro doesn't really notice 😭 he just doesn't really know how that is supposed to change something in your relationship? He loves you for what you are, your height really makes no difference at all. Might notice the height difference sometimes, but doesn't make a big deal out of it. He's chilling here.

Hobi

He giggles anytime he has to bend down or you have to lift your head up to kiss each other. He's not making fun of you, damn no, he just finds the situation so endearing. He giggles because he's reminded of the height difference and then he's kinda head over heels for you (again).

Namjoon

If that's one of your insecurities because people comment a lot on it, don't worry, they won't ever do it again. Not when Namjoon is staring daggers at anyone who could even possibly think of making an unfunny joke towards you. Also loves to take pictures with you because the height difference is so notable and it's so aesthetic (?). He literally loves it so much.

Jimin

The type to be comparing the difference between you guy's hands. He also finds his flirting to be way more efficient, with him towering you as an example, and he absolutely loves how flustered you get. But if you ever end up kicking him because of that (you're so right) he will be feeling proud of this 💀

Taehyung

Loves when you ask him to bend down a little so you can kiss/hug him properly. This just makes his entire week a way better one. Also loves to back hug you because why does it feel so much better than anyone else's hug?? Is also so ready to offer his help to reach things on taller shelves and this typa thing.

Jungkook

He's just so ready to baby you as much as he can😭 really wants you to wear his clothes as much as possible (which would be all the time), is picking you up in the first opportunity, is placing you down on his lap and everything else you can imagine. Will sometimes tease you as well, but only if you're okay with that ofc.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: with a taller s/o

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana

Credits for images 1 2 and 3

Dividers by @enchanthings

[xoxovalrea]

Sukuna imagine

A/n- ik we supposed to hate sukuna or wtv but Gege had to go nd make his true form so fineuhhh. Nd uh i told sorta a white lie imma continue writing jjk fanfics😀 but trust trust an AOT one is coming🙏

Warnings: Rough fuck, corruption kink, afab reader,angry sukuna in a way, multiple reader orgasms.  imagine below the gif🎀

Sukuna might be all big and bad but when it comes to you and your cunt he’s like a kid in a candy store. Especially after not having it for more than two days, on top of working a stressful shift. 

“Kuna no more I cant take it” you whine in broken moans as sukuna eats your poor little cunt out like a starved man. You try to scoot away only to be pulled back onto his mouth. 

He lets out a deep groan in utter annoyance. He lifts his face up and gives you an ‘are you fucking serious’ look and goes right back to eating you out not minding how your thighs are trying to pop his head off. 

He brings you to a shaking squirting orgasm once more. But getting up and positioning his leaking hard cock at your hole and pushing in with no warning putting you into a mating press. 

“Kuna baby please too much” you say slurring your words as sukuna chuckles in your ear repeating ‘you can take it’ throughout grunts and low moans.

“Fuckk princess you’re so tight is it that good?” He laughs as you struggle to respond taking your loud moans of his name as a response. The sound of skin slapping and your moans were like music to his ears especially after dealing with his bitch baby employees and co-workers all day. 

Ryomen loved his little stay at home wife. He liked the fact you needed him to survive in this cruel world and how he easily can corrupt your mind without even touching you it was all a wet dream to him.

He didnt realize how hard or how fast he was going until he snapped back into reality and heard your pleas of how you were going to cum and how your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. 

He kept his pace just adding a little clit rubbing watching how your moans got louder. “Mhm thats it baby cum, cum all over this cock” he says groaning feeling his balls tighten.

“Ah sukuna please no, no more” you babble as he speeds up riding out your orgasm as he eventually cums deep inside of you with a deep guttural moan. 

He pulls out with a wince and lifts your fucked out body in his arms leading you to the bathroom. 

-fun fact sukunas true form is 8ft 😝

Bye lovess💗💗

[scarletnargacuga]

TOY BOX

A BUTTONBLOSSOM/RAGAPOM/JESTERDOLL ONESHOT

A/N: I don't know which ship name is the most common, so I'm using all of them lol I may or may not have been drinking while writing this...

WARNING: none

~~~

"Today's adventure is THE TERRIFIC TREASURE TAKEAWAY!" Caine introduced his adventure of the day with the usual display of flare, completely oblivious to the reactions of the unimpressed six in front of him. "You're going on a scavenger hunt! It'll be three teams of two searching the grand Museum for TREASURES! Avoid security! Or they lock you up and your teammate has to get you out! If both of you are caught, you're out of the game! The last team standing, or the team with the most treasures at the end of the time limit, wins!"

Pomni spoke to Ragatha out of the side of her mouth. "Do the adventure titles always have to be illiterate?"

"No." Ragatha covered her mouth and whispered back. "I think that's just a Caine thing."

"Three teams? We ALL have to participate?" Zooble groaned.

"The game is more fun than way! Come on, Zooble! Don't you want to play a game with your friends?" Caine was practically begging. He could not force them to play if they absolutely did not want to, but he REALLY needed an even number of people for the game to work properly.

Zooble rolled their eyes and turned to leave, but then overheard Jax.

"Looks like Zooble is going to be as boring as always. Come on Gangle, you're my partner."

Zooble stopped and turned on their heels. They marched to Jax and shoved him away from Gangle. They crossed their arms and didn't move when Jax got back up and glared.

"Fine. I didn't really want to be stuck dealing with her whining anyway." Jax huffed and stretched his arm out to grab Kinger by the scruff of his robe. "Kinger and I got this."

"Hey, Pomni. Would you like to be my partner? ...for the game! The game." Ragatha awkwardly felt like she needed to clarify.

"Oh! Uhhh, yeah, sure." Pomni was glad Ragatha asked first.

"EXCELLENT!! I do love full party participation!" Caine snapped and a colorful portal opened. "Good luck everyone!"

The group walked through and found themselves in the grand main hall of an enormous museum. Around them the main hall separated into three wings and had three floors. Above them hung a banner that read WELCOME TO ESCHER'S MUSEUM OF ODDITIES. A full T-Rex fossil was having tea with a wax figure of Abraham Lincoln on a display in the center of the room. Various random items were in display cases, many of them only vaguely resembling artifacts and art pieces.

Pomni nervously looks around. "Uh, any ideas as to what these TREASURES look like?"

"No clue. I'm more worried about this SECURITY Caine was talking about. His ideas of enforcement came be a bit...scary. BUT we won't know until we try taking something." Ragatha tapped the glass around a weird mask looking object.

"...it just occurred to me that Caine has literally sent us to rob a museum." Pomni thought out loud as she backed up against a wall, feeling exposed in the large liminal space.

"This is supposed to be a competition right? Outta my way!" Jax pushed Ragatha aside, into Pomni.

Ragatha braced herself against the wall, arm on either side of Pomni.

Pomni flushed, seeing Ragatha up close and personal always made her heart flutter but they've never been this close. She stared up into Ragatha's smiling, apologetic face. Her one eye soft on her.

"Hey..." Ragatha giggled.

"...hey." Pomni delayed in answering, but managed a smile.

Neither of them moved. They just stood their. Awkwardly. Neither wanting to tell the other to move, because what if that was rude?

Jax yeeted the glass case Ragatha had tapped and grabbed the mask. It turned into a cloud of sparkles and a +1 popped up before disappearing. "Ha! I knew it! The WHOLE museum is up for grabs!" He jumped on the platform with the dino and president tea display and tried removing Abe's head.

The whole room went red. INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!

"Oh noooo..." Gangle whimpered.

Massive drones came out of the walls and flew towards Jax. "Oop, time to go." He bugs bunny-ed his ass out the room as fast as he could, three drones on his heels. One drone shot a laser at Kinger and he disappeared. The girls screamed.

"Come on!" Pomni took Ragatha by the hand and ran. The maze like layout of the museum discombobulated those who could get away. Lefts was right, down was up. Every door hit a stairwell and every stairwell looped in on itself. At one point, they were on the ceiling. "What kind of place IS this!?"

Ragatha tried to keep up but Pomni was practically dragging her. "Pomni! The stai-" She tripped, fell over apomni and they both rolled and bounced down a countless flight of stairs. Ragatha wrapped her body around Pomni in an attempt to protect her from the fall, even though it felt like rolling down a bouncy castle.

They eventually stopped when they slammed through a closed door.

Ragatha still had a hold of Pomni, they laid side by side. "Are you alright?"

"Uhhhhh....I think so." Pomni had dizzy swirls in her eyes.

Ragatha couldn't help but snicker. It was a funny look on Pomni. "Good. Because that was actually kind of fun."

Pomni shook the swirls away. "Seriously? Falling down the stairs is your idea of fun?"

"Oh, well, no, not real stairs but it was...uh...never mind. I'm just glad you're okay." Ragatha let go and they both got up.

They saw no way out other than the door they knocked off its hinges. Colorful tiles covered the floor, small tables sat in neat little rows, and there was a large play area.

"Where are we?" Pomni asked, looking around.

"I don't know. A classroom?"

"This place doesn't make any sense."

"It wouldn't be one of Caine's creations if it did." Ragatha said with an irey lilt in her voice. "In fact, this actually isn't the weirdest place I've ever seen. I wouldn't even put it in the top five."

Pomni gaped. "Say what?"

"Yeah, you weren't here for the time he tried to make us all fly like him and Jax ended up on the underside of the sun."

Pomni smiled. "He did?"

"Oh yeah, he had to tap dance the heat off his feet until Caine figured out how to turn gravity back on. Took like an hour."

Pomni started to laugh. "It took him THAT long?"

Ragatha laughed with her. "Yeah! If you ask me, I think he did it on purpose." She loved hearing Pomni laugh, it was so rare.

"Wait, so is that the weirdest?"

"Oh, no. The absolute weirdest had to be Derby Day." Ragatha leaned against an oversized toy box. "Derby Day was when Gangle had to-"

The toy box opened, swallowed Ragatha whole, then slammed shut.

"Ah! Ragatha!" Pomni went to open the box and she too was magically pulled inside. She fell and fell and fell into an endless pit of vibrate color. Ragatha was just below her. "Ragatha!!"

"Pomni!!" She cried out as she tumbled through the air.

Pomni streamlined herself to fall faster and caught up with Ragatha. She tried to get Ragatha's hand but the ragdoll was living up to her namesake and accidentally kicked Pomni in the face. They both spun and free fell into a pile of pillows. They laid there for moment to collect themselves.

"What. The actual. [%$!#]." Pomni mumbled into a plush pillow.

"I take it back. This IS really weird." Ragatha moaned.

"...top five?"

"Top three."

Pomni sat up and didn't bother checking her new surroundings. It didn't matter where they were, they'd probably end up somewhere else in a minute anyway. Ragatha rolled over and stared at the new sky. She couldn't see the top, it was an abyss of kaleidoscopic color. "You know...for all the weirdness...I am grateful for one thing."

"What's that?"

"You."

Pomni jerked her head up. "What?"

"Yeah... I'm probably saying this because it doesn't matter if I do... But I enjoy your company."

"Oh...I...I didn't think anyone would. I'm not exactly...fun. And don't say you don't matter. If there's one thing in this digital scape, that actually does matter, it's our feelings. It's what makes us human." Pomni rolled over to join Ragatha looking at the weird sky. "A-and you've been wonderful to be around, too. I'm sorry I don't really say it. I tend to get lost in my own head."

"I understand. This place will do that to you." Ragatha paused, considering if she should say what she wanted to say next. "I'm... Grateful for one other thing today."

"What's that?"

"I got to hug you."

Pomni turned her head to Ragatha. They smiled at each other.

Ragatha continued. "I- I know you're not the biggest fan of touch so...the fact that you didn't freak out after we fell down the stairs-"

"Ragatha, I wouldn't freak out on you. Not for that. Sure, touch isn't really my thing but...I make a small exception for you."

"Would it be okay...if we hugged again?" Ragatha asked with a deep blush across her cheeks.

Pomni scooted closer. "Yeah."

They locked into a warm embrace. It was the most human thing either one of them had felt in a long time. Pomni felt anchored, her mind focused on only the here and now. No what ifs and maybes. It was bliss.

Ragatha felt a sense of comfort and connection that she thought she'd never get to feel again. In this place...it was getting hard to feel anything but melancholy.

As they hugged the pillows shifted. They tried to get up but they both slipped in the surface vertically against one another. It was like falling into quicksand.

"Great....were are we going now?" Pomni held on around Ragatha's neck.

"I don't know, but we're going together. That's all that matters to me." Ragatha held tight as they sunk further and further into the unknown.

[roguishcat]

ooooh what is ‘a welcome distraction’???

Thank you for the ask! 💖I subscribe to the idea that Astarion is very much a cat. 🙂 Neil showing the cat that he adopted and commenting on how long it took to gain the said cat's trust was really helpful in terms of understanding what Astarion is likely to do. I'm not saying that I write Astarion perfectly, but watching that live stream helped me to improve.

With that in mind, I started writing and this wrote itself. It's not done, but it's becoming something.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

Now that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a nice bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?”

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself.”

[professoruber]

Quick thoughts on MAWS depiction of Krypton

My Adventures with Superman Spoilers

Okay so I've really been enjoying My Adventures With Superman (I recently re-watched and caught up with the show) but honestly I am personally not the biggest fan of the depiction of Krypton and Kara.

Disclaimer I am not a big comic expert and am still something of an novice, especially with Superman stuff, but I am slowly broadening my horizons.

Some things I like about Superman is the parallels to the story of Moses as well as the general immigrant story. Superman Smashes the Klan is one of the comics I've read so far and I really liked how it explored those latter themes.

So I guess I kinda feel that having Krypton be depicted as this imperialistic empire, especially one who was destroyed due the fights they picked, kinda undermines those parallels/themes? Granted, the immigrant story stuff can still very much be present regardless of the nature of Kryptonian society.

Perhaps it has something to do with my initial expectations that Kara would provide another view of Krypton to contrast the very negative impression which Clark had received from the very limited information he had received in the first season but uh...

While Kara is certainly a rather sympathetic individual, she is also certainly not exactly providing a better view of Krypton. Of course, I'd imagine as well that Primus Brainiac's version of Krypton is much worse than the original one.

(The reason why I had the theory is because I like the contrast between Superman and Supergirl, of the latter generally being depicted as having spent at least her formative years in Krytponian society, either Argo City or Krypton itself. Both are stories of immigrants, but with an interesting difference which makes them distinct in their experiences)

But we did hear from Jor-El that Krypton was indeed an Empire before its destruction (although... Clark's only able to have a proper conversation with Jor-El after the Brainiac systems of the ship had been explicitly activated... hm.)

As I said before, I am really loving MAWS and think its a very fun show. And I also do not want to criticise a show merely because it did not follow my exact personal expectations, that'd just be silly.

But I suppose that watching it has gotten me thinking about my personal thoughts on Krypton in general, and I feel like I might as well write it down.

The season's also not over yet, so there is a high possibility of more nuance being shown in Krypyton. Plus regardless of if Krypton was an empire, the regular civilians didn't deserve total destruction.

Anyway, MAWS is very good .Would recommend. And like I said, this is mostly my personal rambling of thoughts on Krypton and Kara. Can't wait to see the next episode!

Edit: kinda tired today but to slightly expand on my thoughts. I suppose in general I like the idea of Krypton with its own flaws and virtues. While MAWS could still very well show the better side of Krypton outside of Brainiac’s propaganda, it’s status as an imperialistic power which caused its own destruction through its conquests arguably would overshadow that somewhat.

Clark Kent was raised on Earth by the Kent Family. That’s who he is, where he got his values and how he was shaped into the man he is. But I also like him still nonetheless being able to be proud of his Kryptonian heritage and connect to it; being both Earthling and Kryptonian.

But in MAWS; between Jor-El’s A.I getting destroyed, Old Krypton being imperialist, New Krypton being ruled by Brainiac and Kara being a brainwashed war criminal, it leaves Clark with very little connection to Krypton and very little insight to what it was actually like as a society and culture and people.

And unless there’s further reveals about Kara’s backstory (although I do have a theory about that…), there’s a fair chance she won’t have much connection to Krypton once she gets freed from Brainiac’s comtrol. And what connection she does have right now is mostly negative and tainted by Brainiac.

Perhaps I am a bit pre-emptive in some of this and I do think there’s still plenty of room for the writers to expand on Krypton and what it was like and what lead to its empire and subsequent destruction. Regardless of what direction the writers take though, I am looking forward to seeing the show’s story progress!

[museadvicecorner]

Show, Don't Tell (Unless You Want to Sound Like Me): A How-To and How-Not-To Guide

Hey, my cute little Muses! It's your favorite (or maybe not) self-proclaimed advice-giver who still can’t get her own writing life together. Today, we’re tackling the age-old advice: “Show, don’t tell.” A rule that’s as confusing as trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the instructions. I mean, who needs those, right?

Why "Show, Don’t Tell" is Like the Holy Grail (and Why You Keep Dropping It)

"Show, don’t tell" is like that elusive treasure we all chase in our writing journeys. It’s supposed to make our stories vivid, our characters relatable, and our readers engaged. Instead, it often leaves us feeling like we’re playing literary Twister with our brains. So, let’s dive into this mess, shall we?

When to Show (Because Apparently, Descriptions Are Fun)

Imagine your character is sad. (No, not just because they’re reading my blog.) Instead of saying, “John was sad,” you could show it:

- Tell: John was sad.

- Show: John slumped on the park bench, staring at the ground as if the answers to life’s miseries were etched in the cracks of the sidewalk.

See? Now, John’s sadness is palpable. You can almost feel the weight of his despair. Or maybe you just feel the weight of your own struggles trying to craft such sentences. Either way, it's a win-win.

When to Tell (Because Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That)

Sometimes, you just need to get to the point. Not every moment needs to be a cinematic masterpiece. Here’s a hint: if you’re bogging down your story with endless details, you might be overdoing it.

- Tell: It was a cold night.

- Show: The icy wind howled through the leafless trees, its chill biting at the skin like a thousand tiny needles, making every breath visible in the frosty air.

Yeah, I know. The second one sounds fancy, but do we really need a weather report? Unless your character is battling the elements, a simple “It was a cold night” will do. Save your energy for the scenes that matter. Like the one where your protagonist has an existential crisis (which, let’s be honest, is probably inspired by your own).

The Balance (Or How I Pretend to Know What I’m Doing)

Finding the balance between showing and telling is like finding the perfect coffee-to-milk ratio. Too much milk and it’s bland; too little, and it’s just bitter. The trick is knowing when to be a barista of words and when to just dump the coffee and move on.

Here’s a worthy example (and by worthy, I mean it won’t make you want to claw your eyes out):

- Show: The corners of her mouth twitched upward as she watched the puppy stumble over its own feet, a laugh bubbling up from her chest.

- Tell: She was amused.

Both have their place. Use the first when you want the reader to be in the moment with the character. Use the second when you just need to convey information quickly and get on with your life (and your story).

The Overuse and Underuse (Because Moderation is for the Weak)

Let’s be real. We all either overuse or underuse this rule. Some writers show everything, turning their stories into long-winded epics that make "War and Peace" look like a quick read. Others tell everything, creating a narrative that’s as exciting as a grocery list.

Final Thoughts (Aka My Rambling Conclusion)

“Show, don’t tell” is crucial, but like most writing advice, it’s not a one-size-fits-all. Understand it, play with it, and most importantly, don’t stress over it. Remember, even Shakespeare probably had days where he was like, “To show, or not to show, that is the question.”

So, go forth, write brilliantly, and remember: if all else fails, you can always come back here for more advice (or just to feel better about your own writing skills by comparison).Happy writing!

Until next time,

Muse Advice Corner (a.k.a. the person who has way too many notebooks)

P.S. If this post didn’t help, at least you can say you survived reading it. That’s an achievement in itself.

Your feedback on my blog would mean the world to me! If my posts make you smile, why not fuel my caffeine addiction? Any support is super appreciated, even a comment too. Got any topics you want me to dive into? Just holler. Need some custom writing prompts? Hit me up anytime! :⁠-⁠) Also I'm thinking of starting a writing community do tell me what you think about it (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

[goodboyaudios]

I know you've stated that romance irl and story wise are a neutral zone for you, but it must have been a process in getting comfortable with making romance adjacent plots. What did that process or plunge look like for stories like MoTH and BW?

Indeed it was very difficult! Romance was not something I was personally super comfortable with talking about. It took me a long while and a lot of experience to really figure out how to write it in a way that was appealing.

I looked at how others approached it, how they wrote it, how they viewed romance in general, and I came up with my own style and way of writing it! I'll admit it's not perfected, but that's part f the fun right? The journey to figure it all out! Much like with romance in general!

For BW it was easy to just make a romance about my version of Trevor and Cypha from Castlevania lol! But of course I added my own twist.

MotH was trickier, because the story wasn't even supposed to be about Zed and Makkaro in the original. It was going to be about Mirrin, Magnesia, Xorn and Xarantharos (huh. MMXX) and all the beasties they'd find along the way.

I changed it, because it didn't have much of a leg to stand on romantically, initially. Maybe one day I'll go back to it.

Zed's story was kinda in reference to a number of other audios were the character is the god being worshiped or lord being praised. I thought, hey! What about the reverse of that? How would that go down? So I simply flipped the script!

Makkaro's story was based on Red Death from Venture Bros. Someone who's a villain, but has a nice home life lol

I wrote them to make them fight and bam! You got MotH!

[disdaidal]

I got a sudden surge of inspiration (or insanity) last night, and I wrote most of chapter 2 for my omegaverse fic. I still have to write a little more to get to the end of it, and then I can start working on my least favorite part aka proofreading/editing it, so...

Give me the strength to finish it tonight? Please? 🙏

[veinsfullofstars]

“Quit laughin’, ya bastard, I’m dyin’ over here! Get me some starsdamn milk, for cryin’ out loud!”

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Dark Meta Knight and Daroach, in which lunch is interrupted by a disagreement on spicy food and some improper use of the Sharing mechanic. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)

Based on a personal headcanon that DMK enjoys spicy food and Daroach vehemently does not.

UPDATE: I foRGOT HIS EYE SCAR?? HeLLO??? (fixed it now but starsdamn it this is why I shouldn't post stuff the second I finish heck dang it all veins get some sleep would you)

Started 04/06/24, finished 04/09/24.

---

Transcript:

Panel 1

*DMK and DR sitting side-by-side enjoying some lunch together - a sandwich for the thief, a plate of spicy curry for the knight. DMK (his mask pushed up to the side of his head, bits of curry stuck to his face) idly eats his meal with a fork as DR picks up and scrutinizes a small bottle of hot sauce the knight had set aside, a brow raised in disappointment.*

DR: “Ultra spicy,” huh? Blech. How can you stand this stuff, Dark? Like, can you even taste anythin’ anymore? (Besides pain?)

Panel 2

DMK: Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad. Here, want a bite~?

*setting his fork upright in the curry, DMK pushes his plate aside and turns towards DR with the most mischievous expression, reaching up to grab the collar of his cape. DR turns his head sharply, dropping the bottle and the sandwich, as the knight starts tugging him towards him.*

DR: What’re you-? Hey! No! No! Don’t you friggin’ dare, Dark, I swear to Nova-

Panel 3

*DMK stands up and yanks DR down towards his face, a hand clasped on the back of the thief’s head to hold him there. DR flinches (VFX: two large exclamation points), knocked off his feet and holding his paws out in surprise. A wisp of steam rises from between them, curling into a little pink heart at the top. Text reading “*Face-to-Face SFX*” hovers behind DMK.*

Panel 4

*DR jerks away from DMK, red-faced and doubled over in pain, his eyes squeezed shut and his tongue hanging out with a fresh red burn on the end, steam emitting from his face in puffs. He frantically fans at his mouth with one paw while shoving DMK away with the other.*

DR: (breaking the dialogue bubble in places) AAGH!! Ow! Star-burnin’ son-of-the-void what is wrong with you piece a’- aaaughh dammit stars dammit ow ow ow ow!!

*DMK cackles, leaning away with one arm held up against the rat’s pushing paw, one eye shut and mouth stretched open in a wide smile, a single incisor prominent within and a touch of blush at the corner. Text reading “HA HA HA HA HA HA HA” hovers behind him surrounded by laugh lines.*

[starry-bi-sky]

more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

-

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

-

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

-

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[kanerallels]

There's absolutely nothing worse than when I get a thousand words into a story and decide that I low key hate it

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Great news, the wordcount of that silly ninjago fic thing I'm working on doubled over my camping trip. we're at 42k now and haven't even hit the climax

[fluxedbuds]

can’t believe it took me this long to make a magical frosted tango tbh