#you have a way of writing that is so unique to you and I'm just addicted

[wayward-imp]

I love how visceral it can be to speak English, because we have such a huge variety of words. Not the most words by dictionary count, but between the rhythm and the way the sounds move around each other, it can feel a little like dancing just to speak. Sometimes words just feel good in your mouth, you know? Or sometimes they feel like the thing they express. The feel of the language becomes part of creative writing, especially, that's why authors are said to develop a unique voice. So I wrote a quick little poem about all this for a class on teaching EFL with poetry, trying to capture for my Korean classmates a little of how I actively enjoyed speaking English. I'm not an especially skilled or confident poet, but for what it's worth, here.

Logophile

No better flavor Than the savor Of my language On my tongue Breathless, shaping The sounds Rolling in my mouth Like fire and rime Keeping time With every syllable Thoughts spilling Through my lips In a flood Of creation

The greatest sensation Is imagination On my palate Telling stories Making worlds New understandings Tingling on my tastebuds Passion and potential Vibrating in my throat Singing out in every line And the spaces between Words

so many amazing words in the english language. you have clandestine and precarious and serendipity and iconoclast and then you also have staunch and sludge and slurp and smudge

[takes1]

your needy Kenma smut was SOOO good omfg I was biting my fist reading it!! can i request a needy suna smut?

needy!suna rintarou x reader

hi!! so glad you liked it!! wow this took me so long i'm so sorry! i just could not find a way to write it without it being exactly the same as kenma's!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / forbidden, established relationship / manager!reader / vocal!suna / whiny!suna / needy!suna / bratty!suna / liiiight mommy kink nobody freak tf out!! / suna has a cute laugh / creampie / raw cuddly sex / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Don't look at me like that, Rin'."

Your fingers were smushing the lower half of his face, angling his head away from you. His head stayed obediently forward at the center court, but those eyes were still piercing through you.

Through his fishy-lips, his words became jumbled together, "'can' helb i'--,"

It wasn't his fault he looked so mean, so critical when he focused in on something.

"I can't help it," He spat, rubbing his jaw.

Suna wasn't careful about his hand placement. The members of Inarizaki knew you had been dating for a time, but Coach Kurosu did not need a reason to question your managerial position.

When you pushed his hand away from your waist, his face scrunched; that mean and bitter look returned, tenfold.

A frustrated, hushed, but not quiet, "I want you."

Though it wasn't an appropriate time, place, or circumstance, it would be lie to say that it wasn't hot. The unique mixture of his assertive, court-like focus and lesser-known bedroom-only begging forced you to cross your arms.

"You-," You glanced around, thankful nobody heard that, "Have a game to focus on."

The attitude he gave was not only unwarranted, but it succeeded in making you less receptive. To you, it was obvious that he was only looking for an out. He was tired and halfway through a challenging match. You couldn't spare to be his partner right now, and he did not like that.

He sucked his teeth, tapped his foot, crossed his arms, worked his jaw, and gave you a sharp sigh, all within five minutes of angry silence.

What a whiny bastard.

You found his struggle almost amusing. At the moment, it was more important to maintain your focus, for the both of you.

Still, it kept you wondering throughout the remainder of the match: What had you possibly done to warrant such a strong response?

Every instance that he had to be around the bench, drinking water, a temporary switch-out, he would send you a deeply dissatisfied glance. You didn't justify it with a reaction. He was being bratty.

Though you were a prude, anti-PDA personality in public, especially around the team-- you were the one to push him back onto the mattress and throw his shirt across the room, once you were back at his place.

"Fuck--mnh!"

That pretty sigh was all he could get out before you were on top of him.

"Start talking," You muttered. Your shirt was off in seconds.

His breathing grew heavy, eyes black with lust at the sight of your pretty skin, his favorite bra he clocked earlier under your shirt- the whole reason his mind got to spinning.

Suna was kept this irritating, calculating, slithery persona up around his friends, and especially during matches, because he learned that it kept him safe. He didn't always like being so on edge. He wanted to trust somebody enough to tell them everything that passed through his mind, to be skin-to-skin and a little weird, because you were comfortable and safe.

Here, under you, after enough love and time, he knew he didn't need to waste energy on appearances.

"I- ah-h, I just wanted you so bad," Was his honest attempt at an explanation.

He sat up to touch you, kiss you, but you kept him to the sheets with a forearm.

"Are you trying to get me kicked out?"

Suna huffed, eyes bouncing from your face, to your confined tits, then back, "What?""

Your legs slid a bit further apart, weight settling better onto his warm lap, "If Coach finds out we're dating, you know I'm gone."

You snapped, just for emphasis, but he flinched, "Like that. In an instant."

He was painfully hard. You could feel him throbbing, even through his combo of athletic shorts and thick sweatpants. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was keen enough to understand that you were a little pissed off about his lack of restraint.

He was in that spot you liked seeing him work through. Struggling, deciding whether to be nice, or snarky.

"You're smarter than that, baby," Was much kinder of a statement in tone, but it tipped him off to be rude, instead.

Those narrowed eyes dripped down to your chest slow, sweet, like honey.

"Why'd you wear that, then?" He felt you stiffen. He placed a hot palm onto your hip to help his well-intentioned venom settle.

You couldn't believe that was his entire problem, summed up in five words.

"Are you really so dirty-minded that you could tell what bra I was wearing? Under my shirt?"

The call-out was meant to return his energy, but he responded in a more secure way than you.

"When it's you, yeah--," He sat up with ease, against your pushing, just to remind you that he could outclass your force if he wanted to. He caught your small frown and he corrected himself, "Yes, ma'am."

You gave a small hum, a low-lidded stare right back at him. He was so hot when he deferred to you.

It warranted a strong, messy kiss- all charged with hours of denial, suggestive glances, and too many minutes of clothed rubbing.

All your clothes came off in a range of easy to difficult, distracted efforts.

Suna lay under you, all flushed and twitchy with anticipation. Your hands flitted down his sensitive, strong sides, his cock crammed between your legs, getting spoiled and slick. Not inside, not just yet.

You loved tickling him just to hear his laugh.

And he'd tolerate anything with you gliding over his dick, like that. Giving him such a good view.

"Shhh-haha-h-ahh!" He bit his lip to keep from giggling, moaning, too much or too loudly.

That look he gave you was enough. All twisted, pleading, intelligent. Like he knew exactly what he said and how he said it, would get you turned on.

His sound was adorable, rare.

It was unrestrained, and light, cute, enough to understand why he kept it behind his hand around his friends. Sounded exactly like something a bunch of guys might make fun of him for.

"Hmm.. Let's cuddle fuck," You pressed a tingly kiss just under his ear.

You knew he was feeling lazy. Your job today wasn't easy, either. You wanted to feel close at the end of a busy day, more than anything.

Suna was warm, and tired, and tacky to the touch but it all added to how badly you wanted each other. It was a demanding match, and getting all upset with each other made it feel that much longer.

Slick, and hot, and easy was the adjustment to him. Nothing to do with his real size- you were just ready, after having to put up an act, as if you were too above all of it.

The panting you had to listen to on the sidelines, watching him miss his mouth with the squeezy bottle, all the sweat and water dripping onto his jersey, it ate at you, corroded the brick walls you put up. Even his frustrated glare was sexy. He couldn't stop looking at you, even with an important task at hand, or when his teammates needed him to focus.

Now he fucked you like your mean -still, justified- rejection was never a problem, like he was savoring you slowly.

"Yes-yes, yesyes," Suna swallowed up your moans in a greedy kiss.

"Mmh- how's that feel--?" You purred.

"So good," A satisfied groan, "Fuck- Got such a perfect pussy."

His hand kept your thigh up, your knee close to your shoulder. He inspired a gasp at how quickly he bottomed out to your teasing.

He stretched you so good, so easily, and kept your trembling steady in his grasp-- but every sound he made was shaky, barely held together, and never masked.

After three months, Suna decided at some point on his own that he could trust you enough to completely let go in the bedroom. Though he naturally gravitated to a more submissive role, he usually said some downright sleazy, vulgar shit to get his kicks.

"A-ha, h-fuc-k, aughh, you feel so good, you--," His breath clipped into a high, closed-mouth whine as he pulled you harder onto the base of his cock, just flexing hard, as deep as he could get.

Your teeth sunk into his pillowcase, fingers filled with plush.

The knowledge that he loved it, but couldn't ever get as deep as he wanted, had your strength waning. Squeezing, bracing, at all the butterflies tired you out.

Although, if it were a competition, Suna had you beat by a mile. The drooling, whiny mess behind you may have had enough to strength to use his body weight to keep you smushed, but you could tell he was sloppier, clumsier, with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I-I'h- needed you so bad," His moan was so light and breathy- like he was swimming on Cloud 9-, "So-h, so... fucking...bad."

Your uncontrollable squirm to get away from the sensation was met with instant crushing. Even if you wanted your thigh back, it would never happen.

"Mh-h-! Rin-," You tried to speak, but he was hitting all your angles just right, so you stopped.

His words were twisting up that knot in your tummy, the trap of his arms a steady, innocent backdrop to how filthy he decided to fuck you.

Slurred mutters, consisting of mostly nonsense syllables and phrases, sometimes bred real messages like, "So hot," "Mommy," "So much," and, "'Can't take it."

His yapping, you thought, may have been a way of making up for how little he spoke, usually. You were generally much quieter than him here, but outside of the bedroom, the opposite remained true. It was cute.

"M'so- close-mh," His groans were short, choked on pleasure, his squeezing desperate and uneven.

The idea of him finishing close, hugging you, just like this, was too hot to let not happen.

You gathered yourself to tell him, "C-um-- Mh, inside, pretty boy."

"F-uck!" That tone completely tipped him over the edge.

Your grin was to yourself, twitchy and genuine, before the feeling of fullness set in.

He was left to fuck out his load as deep inside of you as he could get, "Fuckfu-ck- Ahh-hh-!"

Your nails dragged across his skin- the white hot, pulsing enough to spur a sudden orgasm. Dark lines remained in their wake as your muffled whines filled his ears.

And Suna was nothing if not dedicated. He fucked you as well as he could through your own, whinier, less violent experience. His breath, laden in the resolution of his own, was hot and tingly across your sensitive ear.

You squeezed his arm to stop and he finally let your leg down.

"Hm...sorry," He mumbled into a peck against your cheek, "You okay?"

Sore, and achy, you shared a giggly kiss. He softened naturally and you readjusted to hold each other, warm and soft, with chemical infatuation.

"Mhmm," You stole a longer, slower kiss.

Those pretty eyes watched you, worshipped you, as you rubbed your hand across his jaw.

"Perfect."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

[vexwerewolf]

How would you add depth and complexity to the culture of the Purview?

Right now, the KTB gets way more attention both because of the two supplements dedicated to it and because the competing noble houses each with its different gimmick and political alignment make it so easy to come up with drama and intrigue.

Meanwhile the Purview seems, both in and out of fiction, flat and uniform. I'm sure its leadership would want to see it and have it seen that way, but given how much it keeps expanding, and therefore adding new cultures to itself, it would have to have a lot of diversity under the hood, even if it would like to pretend otherwise.

I definitely think the Purview has a harder time of it than the KTB, but that's largely because we have a Field Guide to the KTB, whereas the Field Guide to Harrison Armory never got published because of Miguel's non-compete.

There's also the problem that the KTB has this... glamour to it, in both the modern and traditional senses of the word. I've noticed this in a lot of sci-fi properties - that applying the veneer of nobility and monarchy to something can make people forget or forgive its transgressions more easily.

When Harrison Armory, the nationalist corprostate, does imperialist expansion, we can point at it and immediately say "that's a fascism" (even when it's actually... not? Imperialist expansion is always bad but it's not always necessarily fascistic). But somehow, when the KTB do the same or sometimes worse things, like using nanite terror weapons on Free Sanjak, I've noticed people are quicker to make excuses? Like, oh, yeah that's obviously bad but their society works different the KTB are a big place and like of course they're shitty traditionalists and that's really only the Hagiographs and at least the Karrakin have Republican elements who want change and reform and yeah it's bad but aren't Knightly Chivalrous Mechs Just So Gosh Darned Cool?!

I think the nuance of the KTB is also helped by the fact that they're explicitly depicted as non-monolithic. There are ten named Major Houses with their own distinct cultures, politics and homeworlds, and great pains are taken to ensure us that there's multifarious cultures and religions even on an individual world. HA suffers because to some extent it would be more monolithic - it's a nationalist corprostate with only 400 years of history, compared to the KTB's hybrid elective-monarchy neofeudal federation with 10,000.

HA is distinctly American in the way that the nation has become a brand, and a good citizen has to remain on-brand, so things would be more homogenized. To add to that, omninet and blinkgate technology has existed for the whole of HA's lifespan. The unique and distinct cultures of the KTB worlds came about largely because they spent millennia separated from one another by light years. HA has never had this issue, and likely never will. They have the option - and, more importantly, are motivated - to keep a homogenous culture across all of the Purview.

Lancer is fundamentally a game about examining and fighting against unjust structures of power that oppress people but also being larger-than-life heroes that have fun doing it, and the KTB has an innate leg up by virtue of the fact that it has what I'd call a really strong "initial sell:" YOU'RE A SPACE KNIGHT! SPACE KNIGHTS ARE COOL! (PLEASE DON'T EXAMINE SPACEE FEUDALISM!)

To make Harrison Armory compelling, you'd need a similarly strong initial sell for them. And I think I know just the thing.

FOR HUMANITY! FOR LIBERTY! FOR HARRISON! (Please don't examine space nationalism!)

If I were to write the Harrison Armory Field Guide (Tom and Miguel HMU - just kidding. Unless...?), I'd make it BIG and LOUD and OVER THE TOP and OBVIOUS PROPAGANDA with insertions of the actual truth from a HORUS hacker on the side. I'd put Harrison Armory's positioning as "liberators of the galaxy" front and center - "we dive feet-first into hell to save people from tyrants and slavers. We do the work even the UDoJ/HR won't do. Please do not examine our imperialism or social credit system."

[fozmeadows]

Hi!!! I'm just a quarter of a way through A Strange and Stubborn Endurance, and was so happy to find you have a blog!! It's been a lovely read, I love the prose and the world building, the normalization of queerness and how it would look in a fantasy setting on a functional level. I really appreciate that the inclusivity in queerness doesn't immediately make Qi-Katai an idyllic paradise and there's a level of groundedness to how things work.

I can't wait to finish the duology! I was wondering if you had any specific race/POC rep in mind when writing Vel and Cae, because just based on description, I've been picturing Vel as potentially South Asian and Cae as perhaps East Asian? I'm not completely sure. Would love to hear your thought process!

This is an interesting question, because while representation of all kinds is relevant to SFF stories, I don't think it makes sense to analyze secondary settings in quite the same way we do those which, by whatever logic, are considered an extension of the real world. In the case of racial representation, the reason for this is that race is foremost a social construct rather than an immutable biological category: it's a word we've looped around the (predominantly visual) expression of certain traits with reference to a (perceived) shared cultural, religious, geographic and/or historical framework, and as such, even when a given fictional realm is (arguably or explicitly) based on a real-world setting, I'd argue that the act of redrawing the cultural context means implicitly reconsidering our associated racial assumptions, too. For instance: Cae is described as having bronze skin, brown eyes and straight black hair. In the real world, this could plausibly describe a person from any number of backgrounds, because none of these traits, either singly or collectively, is unique to a given group. But for precisely that reason, if I gave Cae's description to a character from a story set in the real world, there'd be a reasonable expectation that I specify their heritage, not just so the reader could picture them better, but because knowing whether they were Thai or Native American or Turkish would impact other aspects of their characterisation. Cae, however, is Tithenai, and Tithena is neither a real place nor based on a specific real-world culture, which means that, regardless of whether you picture him as resembling someone who's Thai or Native American or Turkish or any other thing, the cultural underpinnings of those racial categories are irrelevant to the text, except inasmuch as you might also choose to imagine other aspects of Tithena - the clothes, the food, the architecture - as being similar to that particular real-world culture. But, by the same token, you might just as easily choose to imagine these things as disjunct, or to forgo overt real world comparisons entirely. How you build the visuals of the story in your mind palace is up to you! But what I'm trying to get at is that "specific race/POC rep" is not a given in this milieu, because the relevant categories are all ultimately derived, not from immutable biological separatism, but real-world social distinctions born of centuries of geopolitics, migration and cultural intermingling that don't necessarily have meaningful analogues in an invented setting. Even highly oversimplified terms like "white" and "black" are ultimately products of a specific cultural discourse, and while we might employ them of necessity, we should still keep in mind the fact that their parameters are no more fixed than their implications are neutral or their usage universal.

At the same time, however, there are unequivocally many instances where authors intend the inhabitants of their secondary worlds to be firmly associated with specific real world analogues, even at a granular level. Whether by overt implication or authorial word of god, these are stories and settings which, despite having no in-world connection to any version of our Earth, are still presented as spiritually deriving from it, as though possessed of a sort of cultural haecceity. Which is, I hasten to add, entirely fair; and particularly given the strong historical bias towards white Eurocentrism within fantasy as a genre, the more recent boom of stories that take their inspiration elsewhere is entirely justified, to say nothing of being wonderful. It's just that, as a general point of principle, I think it's important to acknowledge that race, by virtue of being socially constructed, does not have to retain the same boundaries and categorizations in a secondary world that it does on Earth. While readers and creators alike are still inevitably influenced by and thus beholden to the real world optics of race - meaning, to give just one example, that "But it's a fantasy world!" is not a get-out-of-jail-free card for uncritically replicating a pernicious racial stereotype - it doesn't therefore follow that all secondary world fantasy characters and cultures must have a set real world analogue; that we cannot ever imagine them fluidly. All that being so, therefore, you're absolutely free to imagine Vel as South Asian and Cae as East Asian! I do not have any immutable facecasts for either of them, and am delighted with all permutations. However, when A Strange and Stubborn Endurance was first released, Tor commissioned this gorgeous artwork of Cae and Vel by Nicole Deal, for which I was asked to provide some vibes-based visual references for the artist. My choices for Vel were Mika Zibanejad,

Damiano David

and Riz Ahmed;

for Cae, it was Booboo Stewart

and Paing Takhon.

None of these are definitive, but they're certainly fun to look at, and either way, I hope this answers your question! :)

[redjennies]

*long sigh*

all right this is one of my most resurrected posts and to be quite honest, i think most people get what I'm saying here, but it could be clarified because the second it gets away from a circle of people who get it, people seem to lose the thread pretty quick. it was about a trend I noticed regarding the types of fans C3 was both attracting and whose voices were being heavily elevated within the fandom. with the campaign ending, it only feels right to say my final piece about it and be done with it.

first, this post is about whose stories and voices are centered in fandom. it is not about the cast (though having a predominantly white, culturally Christian, US American cast does influence it because they are telling stories from that lens.) it is not even really about the characters, themselves, and whether this is. it's about the fans, and specifically, it is about the lack of compassion and desire to understand, I see a particular type of white (often for lack of better word, "WASP"-y: raised middle class, culturally Christian, and/or US American/English/Canadian/etc) queer fan extend to anyone who falls out of an extremely narrow lens of "this is the default queer experience" or heaven forbid, to people who are not queer but are marginalized in other ways.

it is about how this phenomenon happens because they have been trained to see their queerness as their only identity (and therefore, in their arrogance, the only identity that matters) as it is the only thing about them that deviates from that WASP-y "default." through this lens, stories that are not relatable to that audience are largely ignored unless they are exceptional enough to be the "Academy-Approved POC Film of the Year" to be tokenized by white liberal audiences and stories that do touch on queerness but are primarily about other things like race/class/disability/etc are whitewashed into something more palatable for that hegemonic "default" audience to the point where it is practically unrecognizable from the original story. this is not unique to CR. this happens across all audiences and therefore, all fandoms.

clearly, this phenomenon leads to a problem in fandoms. if we are not extending empathy to the characters and stories that discuss perspectives that may be different than our own, than we will not be extending empathy to the real breathing humans who see their experiences (or the experiences of people they have known) in those stories. there was this post or article about why we need better POC representation that I read way back in the day and have never been able to find again that really stuck with me that said something along the lines of "we don't need representation because no black person can relate to George Costanza or Rachel Green. we already do. the problem is that white writers and audiences do not relate to black people and that shows through the kind of black characters white writers create." and I think that sentiment is relevant to what I'm getting at here. a lot of white queer fans on tumblr are often half-listening when a story is told, choosing to only pay attention when things are about them because at the end of the day, they have the privilege to do so. therefore, the fanworks they create reflects that lack of interest. the metas and fanon they write reflect that lack of interest. soon enough, the fandom itself reflects that lack of interest.

and worse yet, because queer people are an oppressed group (and to clarify, I don't want to come across like I'm saying just because we're white queers, we're not "really oppressed" or whatever), this lack of interest and compassion for people who are different than you becomes actively celebrated in fandom spaces. you have relatively privilege white queer people on tumblr loudly proclaiming characters only matter if they're gay, stories only matter if they're queer, and so on and so on. which on some level is fine if you prioritize reading and watching stories that have to do with queerness, but you do need to be aware of a massive bias you may have to what "queer stories" even are and how you are interacting with them and who you are leaving out. a great example of this is why every time there's a black bisexual male love interest in a video game, y'all keep calling him "too straight" and therefore "boring" and then getting mad and defensive when someone calls you on it. like I mean-- hit dogs holler. ¯\_(*ツ)_/¯

anyway, I was going to close with tying this concept back into CR and how there was a rot that permeated C3 and how this attitude straight up alienated a lot of fans. (god knows I got shouted out of this fandom until it got so dully unpleasant that I couldn't bring myself to give a damn anymore, and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, I hope everyone who participated in the near constant harassment I received for the great crime of maybe being annoying as I made my little jokes and shared my thoughts has a bad fucking life. fuck you. learn how to use the block button.) but @utilitycaster who has been following this campaign as well as other actual play shows a lot more closely than I have already touched on that in a pretty dead-on post that I highly recommend.

so here is what I will end on, the phenomenon I've been describing throughout this post is in no uncertain terms, a form of bigotry, and as far as the people who have to live with that oppression are concerned, a queer bigot is not any less harmful than a straight bigot, in the same way a female bigot is not any less harmful than a male bigot. so if you sincerely want to your spaces to be more inclusive and aren't just saying that to "do a leftism," you have to accept your own part in that, regardless of who you are. you have to stop and pay attention to what kind of perspectives you might be ignoring, and stop immediately shouting at people because you interpreted what they said in bad faith. you have to learn how to just shut up sometimes and be a little reflective. i'm not always great at that, but it's a skill you have to practice even if you fuck up. you can always change your mind with new information and new ideas and new perspectives, but if you instinctively chase off everyone who might be willing to talk about something you've never considered before because you're more concerned about being right than learning, you're going to get a rot in your community that is really hard to get rid of once it festers enough. because if you've been told your whole life that the rot is the default and that it is normal and that it's the way it should be, you're never going to notice it's even there.

tbh the Critical Role fandom, along with most fandoms, has a problem with centering easily digestible metaphors for white queer experiences (and even then only those that check all the boxes of the purity list) at the cost of seeing stories through the lens of race, class, mental and physical disabilities and how those can intersect with queer experiences.

for example, putting an unnecessary amount of effort into proving Jester's attraction to Fjord is compulsory heterosexuality while ignoring that Fjord and Jester were both explicitly biracial characters from different class backgrounds and how that class difference intersected with their self image. a general refusal to really interact with Chetney as a character that is heavily coded as mentally ill and uninterested in being "cured." Veth being deemed the token straight Karen despite being a young rural mother of color struggling with addiction and having an arc that was heavily coded as trans, and Ashton, a nonbinary lower class punk with chronic pain, being considered just a man when it comes to ship wars. etc, etc.

[ask-the-golden-god]

@askstormscall

A bottle drifts to a soft fall in the library. Its weight is heavier than normal as if it was carrying something other than letter. Inside was a letter and a warm iridescent feather, its rainbow hue bright beneath the light.

"Dear Goomy, I am... not good at this! I have never made a letter before. You will be my first! I'm so glad I have met you at the party. You helped me in a way I would have never thought about. Mo'o says this was a best way to maybe reach you. I hope me and my brother will keep to work things out and I hope your days will flourish after helping me!"

*Cepheus was awfully confused by the bottle that had drifted in through the sky light in the library. Where has it come from? Why was it here? He gave a looked to Kel who shared the same expression. Seems they were not expecting anything like this to happen. The duo slowly approached it, getting a much clearer look at the contents contained within. When Cepheus saw the delicately iridescent feather in the bottle, his face immediately lit up. There was only one Pokémon who had that stunning colouring - the unique lugia he had met at the beach event! Seems she had sent him something.*

Cepheus: Yo Kel, seems things are chill with this. It’s from that Lugia I’d met.

*Kel was still confused but trusted Cepheus. They immediately floated to the bottle, carefully levitated it with their psychic powers and took both the feather and letter out of the glass container. The subtle rainbow shine on it was truly beautiful. Not something Kel had ever seen before. Ah, of course, that Lugia with the dazzling feathers. How kind of her to leave something for Cepheus. They began reading the contents of the letter to the arceus.*

Kel: What a lovely way to be thanked. See? You helped someone on that beach.

Cepheus: Yeah yeah. It is nice she gave me one of her feathers. I mean, just seeing her in real life. Wow. Most radiant, I’m telling you.

Kel: I’m sure she was.

Cepheus: Would you be able to put the feather in the treasury please? Something like this can’t just be left out in the open. Gotta store it in the right place, you dig?

Kel: Of course.

*With a quick wave of their hand, Kel teleported the feather into the safest area of the treasury - somewhere where it would rest without fear of being damaged. They grabbed a small ballpoint pen and a sheet of paper from one of the shelves nearby.*

Kel: I am to assume you want to write a letter back?

Cepheus: It’s like you can read my mind or something! Of course I do. And maybe I should add a little something in it too from me. Could you do the writing?

Kel: Sure Ceph.

“Dear most unique lugia,

Thank you for your letter. It is most kind of you to write to me! It’s been ages since I’ve had one but I dig the vibes of it! There’s just something most excellent about writing letters. Just has this vibe, you get me?

I am glad to have met you too! It’s not often you get to see a lugia of your colouration out in the open! Truly a most radical sight to see. I am also thrilled that my words were able to help you out. That’s just what I like doing, helping others who need it. I’m sure things will go well with you and your bro but remember that it’s ok if it’s not a completely smooth journey. Sometimes these things take time, you dig? Definitely wishing you luck on everything.

Absolutely dig the gift you left me. That feather? Wow. I am going to treasure it forever. So, I’m leaving you a little something from my personal collection. I’m not sure what size you are but-“

*Kel had to pause because they knew exactly what Cepheus was going to give to the lugia. They turned to look at the arceus who had already got the item next to him. A pair of lugia-shaped crocs. Oh, why did it have to be crocs? It could have been any gift. Cepheus was obsessed with them. Kel just could not understand the obsession and shook their head when they spotted them. Cepheus looked at them with his usual chill smile, ushering them on to continue with the letter. Kel rolled their eyes, adjusted their round glasses and continued writing what Cepheus wanted them to write.*

“here’s some of the most excellent footwear you’ll ever have. You see, I just so happen to own the largest collection of crocs ever. I just love them and figured you could do with a pair for your own. And look, they’re lugia-shaped! Isn’t that just the most radical thing you’ve ever seen in your life? You can do what you like with them!

Hope to meet you sometime again soon,

The most radical goomy ever.”

Cepheus: Yeah! That sounds like a most excellent letter! Thanks for writing it!

Kel: You’re welcome. I know you struggle with spelling so I’m glad to help. Though, I have to question how you’re going to see her again. Are you going to visit her?

Cepheus: I was thinking she could come here. She’d get along with Genera I think and it’d be nice to see what progress she’s made with her brother, if you get me?

Kel: But she doesn’t know where here is. That’s why she sent the letter.

Cepheus: Oh, you are most right. Yeah, ok. Just hold the letter close to me.

*Kel did as instructed, holding the letter close to Cepheus. Using one of his levitating arc pieces, he touched the letter and it immediately began to glow a soft golden light with small sparkles lining the edges of the paper.*

Cepheus: Ok, could you add a PS to it?

Kel: Sure.

“PS I’ve been able to, through mysterious, magical means, give you a way to find me through this letter if you wanna speak to me face to face again. Like, the letter will, if you request it, become a magic portal that’ll lead you to me if you want to. I know it seems completely wild but the power of goo is strong. I’m chill with keeping up with letters but just wanted to give you the option just in case you needed someone to talk to or whatever.”

*As Kel had finished scribbling away, Cepheus was looking over their shoulder, making sure everything came out ok. He seemed very satisfied by what was written. Kel rolled up the letter and gathered the rather large (well, large in comparison to them) crocs from near Cepheus’ feet. They proceeded to attach a bow to the crocs which held the letter firmly attached to the odd footwear before giving them a tap. They disappeared, leaving no trace of ever being there in the library.*

Kel: Ok, I’ve been able to send the letter and your…lovely…pair of crocs to the location where this lugia wrote her letter. The letter should adjust to being the right size for her to be able to read.

Cepheus: Excellent work my most excellent friend. Hopefully they’ll arrive without getting damaged or anything.

[rekino2114]

Valentines prompt 5. a heartfelt love letter 🩷

This, of course, is going to a request for our best Spooky girl. In danganronpa despair time~ Veronika grebenshchikova, I feel she'd be the most interesting for this given her personality and interests. It'd probably be the most unique love letter in existence.

Veronika writing you a love letter

Valentine's prompts #5

Prompt list

Pairing:Veronika grebenshchikova x gn reader

A/n:I actually thought about making an actual letter on canva for this but it was to short and I was too lazy

Tw:a bit of talk about self-harm

Dear y/n

First of all, I am so sorry for leaving this in your dorm without permission, I know you said you don't mind, but I'm still sorry, I promise i didn't touch anything but I did leave another thing with this letter I'll give you some clues it's cute fluffy and may or may not be possessed by the spirit of a dead child....I know it's not that in theme for valentine's day but it was so adorable I couldn't not get it.

And before you freak out, this letter is written in red ink, not blood, turns out you can't write a full letter in blood, it's way too liquid, and also you'd need a ton of it.........so if you see me with a bandage around my finger You know why.

I know I'm sorry, but I thought it would have been so romantic to write my love for you in my own blood. It would have been like a sign that our love will be eternal, not that it already isn't. I would gladly rip my heart out and give it to you just to show you that it beats only for you if I could survive without it, like a zombie or like corpse bride I love that movie...........I just got the best idea for a couple cosplay.

Looks like I'm rambling even in a letter, sorry, but you do always say you love when I ramble about stuff I like, even with how gorey and creepy it may be, you still listen with so much interest, that's one of the many things I love about you.

And that's why I'm writing this in the first place, to tell you all the things I love about you, well not really I would need way more than a piece of paper to list all of them, your smile, your hair, your face, your screams, your laughter, your voice,your blood, your eyes, your inside (granted I've never seen them but I bet they look just as amazing as the rest of you)

The point is I love literally everything about you and just wanted to put it to paper on valentine's day, I assume you're already my valentine probably, is that how it works? Does it come in the package once you start dating? We become each other's valentines for all the following valentine's days? Anyway, still I love you and just wanted you to know that you're the love of my life and I wouldn't change that for the world.

The last thing I want to say is....thank you, just thank you for being in my life, I know we already talked about this and you don't like me to bring this up since it's in the past but I've stopped with the cuts ever since I met you and I think that just shows how great you are, you've helped me past the worst stage of my life and I genuinely could never thank you enough for that, every time I look at the scars I just smile and thank you, because you did that, you helped me move past that and you deserve the world for it, but my love will have to do.

Wow, it's been a while since I got this emotional over anything, but I guess that's kind of the point of valentine's day, to show the person you love just how much you love them, and i hope you felt that in this letter.

So let me say this one last time here, thank you darling, I love you with all of my heart ❤️

Veronika grebenshchikova

P.s:don't think you're getting out of horror movie night just because it's a holiday. You'd be surprised at how many horror movies there are about valentine's day or love in general, I'll wait for you in my dorm in a couple hours darling~

[on-wine-dark-seas]

So what finally convinced you to selfship?

Whew, this might actually net me some disdain, resentment, etc, but...I'm gonna power through this because I have a lot of opinions, and I wanna make it clear why I'm taking on this challenge.

So full disclosure: I don't actually really like Reader fics. It's not that they're not well-written. On the contrary, a majority of them are brilliant, and most of my favorite fics in this fandom are Reader[ish] fic. Now, the reason I don't like this is not because of the second-person perspective. I'm a longtime gamemaster, writing and speaking in second-person doesn't bug me. I've read The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. Second-person can be a rad storytelling element.

What bugs me is the obvious farce of Reader fic.

I know a lot of writers and artists try their best to keep descriptions of the Reader out of their narration, but it almost always manifests and becomes glaringly obvious that the Reader is their OC stripped of name and defining physical characteristics. Even in the art, it's very clear that Y/N is an OC or a generic, skinny, white, feminine body.

Now, here's the issue: I'm a dark skinned Black woman with curly/kinky hair, and I'm not skinny or perceived as delicate [despite my best efforts]. When I see descriptions about my fave supposedly combing their hands through my hair, or my lips being plush and pink, or my CHEEKS TURNING PINK WHEN I BLUSH, I immediately separate myself from the Reader and replace it with what is obviously the writer's OC or self-insert. And there's absolutely no shame in them doing that! I am the CEO of the OC x Canon agenda, and I will always push for people to be fearless in creating OCs.

And so much of the Reader fic is making it painfully obvious that that's what everyone wants to do, and because no one wants to risk losing readers/views/kudos/comments at best, or being labeled the dreaded Mary Sue at worst, we get inundated with a lot of fanfic and fanart that clearly have heavy OC overtones.

I never see myself as the Reader because the writers are never visualizing me when they're writing the Reader. It's not even about the choices Reader makes in a fic, it's the obvious coding of the Reader's appearance, if that makes sense? I'm sure other Black women in fandom can relate.

So, because of this, I can't feel truly immersed in the story as if I'm the protagonist because the Reader is not me.

Does this look like a fragile, delicate, wide-eyed ingenue waiting to be seduced by the big, bad wolf? No. I am a woman of many vibes: I fuck. I fight. I curse. I spit blood and I dance until the sun comes up. I can also be very soft and sweet and affectionate [just ask the polycule], but most importantly: I'm Black as fuck; not just in appearance, but culturally. I come from Nigerian and American parents. I have a very rich cultural background that shapes and influences everything about me. And none of that is ever reflected in the Reader fics I read, and even some of the ones supposedly featuring a Black reader are holding back in significant ways. Yes, even the ones I praise and laud endlessly. Again, it's not about the quality of the writing, it's about the principle at its core.

And how could I ever expect a writer to account for a person like me in their stories? Why would I ever expect them to? Reader fics ring false for me because there's too many unique people out there to settle for generic nondescript details about the literal protagonist. And I have the misfortune of being in a fandom where that is mostly all there is to read. As a result, I have to do some extra mental gymnastics to enjoy reading fic. I would rather be reading about other people's OCs, if we're being honest.

I got tired of reading fic where I still felt like an interloper or outsider in a story that is supposedly about ME. And I decided to take the plunge and write a story that actually features me as the protagonist and love interest. Not the Reader. The Writer. I'm definitely not the first, and I hope I'm not the last. I feel like this is the natural progression for someone who exclusively writes OC x Canon.

On the other side of this, I understand why Reader fic has become so popular in the fandom. It's an easy way for people to get eyes on their work because now the readers feel like they can be invested in the story because the protagonist is them. And for some people, that's enough. But for those of us who are already ostracized, ignored, and even abused in fandom, and treated as Other, this is not always the case. It's not as easy as slipping into a new coat cut exactly to my size, and more like I'm in the writer's closet trying on their clothes and realizing that we're nowhere near the same size for me to be in there at all.

I hope the people who actually rock with me and my writing enjoy The Invitation when I finally release it. It's turning out to be a point of pride for me, and most importantly: the story is about me.

[beomiracles]

the way I read this two weeks ago and have yet to reblog... anyhow, cam already heard me absolutely CRASH OUT reading this on vc. but it's a lot more fun to host a public crash out too.

FIRST OFF ALL.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

second of all.

the UNIQUE concept is to fucking die for. the idea of vampires feeding off of other vampires is something I've never even thought about??! much less them becoming literally fucking soul bound after that.

You hadn't put your mouth on anyone since that night, not even when it felt as if you had been scooped out with a spoon, carved open, and laid bare from hunger. If it wasn't him you would have nobody. 

PACK IT UP PACK IT UP. "If it wasn't him you would have nobody" YES YES YES. like I'm tearing my heart open and giving it to you rn just take me as I am.

Feeding from vampires was anything but a rush, that first mouthful was a wash of exhilaration. It made one dependent on each other, one taste and it was never the same.

mother of all things holy.

next, the way they were both yearning for each other. cam was yapping this nonsense about the smut feeling weird, BUT LET ME TELL YOU. the smut in this fic is absolutely DIVINE. it portrays the longing and the yearning in such an immaculate way I'm literally out of breath writing this rn. like just opening the fic back up to find my favourite parts has me in shambles, so you can imagine the out of body experience I had reading this.

You would never feel full again unless you had him back. 

AH YES YESYYEYSYEYSYEYSWYE.

You still remember the sound his human heart made

see. i. I'M UNWELL. the way she remembers him even after DECADES passing. the longing of a vampire is so painfully beautiful I'm going to actually pass out on the floor may one of you guys come pick me up again once I've had a moment to collect myself.

AND WHEN SHE SEES HIM AGAIN --- It wasn't the butterflies of newfound love but sickening maggots wriggling in your stomach.

cam I'm going to actually bend you over.

But he was wrong, he hadn't known how full the world felt, how full he was after one drop of love from you. And now he was empty, starved clean from his own doing. “I was ashamed,”  The confession was so quiet matching your question, “And now?”  Beomgyu looked up from under his lashes, he was close enough now that your scent was suffocating him, begging him to give in and just sink his teeth right over your heart. Find the same place they had last been because no one had been able to tempt him to even pull his fangs down, not since you. “And now I'm starving,” 

AND NOW IM STARVING BITCH COME HERE IM GOING TO GIVE YOU MY BODY MIND AND SOUL FOR BREAKFAST DINNER AND LUNCH.

“Now look at this,” you can feel the pad of his thumb running over the bite mark scars he's left on your inner thigh, his grin wicked enough to make your knees twitch. “I wonder if your pretty cunt will remember me as well as your skin has,” 

im so normal about this paragraph its insane lol.

everyone shut up and read this part:

Beomgyu whines, breath quickening as he shoves in the last few inches. He lets his body fall onto yours, needing to be closer, needing to drag his lips over your neck, teeth scratching at your pulse, “say it again, tell me how much you hate me,”  But he knows you can hardly speak, your legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him down closer. “Shut up,” you gasp, his hips rolling against yours.  “then beg me,” he doesn’t even have to say for what. Not when your neck is rolling back to give him better access to your vein, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “If you don’t hate me, beg me to taste you. I know you remember how much I love to mix the flavor of your blood with your cum still in my mouth,”

I want to declare a moment of silence. for my sanity, for my pride and the person I have become after being bestowed such an honour of a fic. I want to lick every part of cam until there's nothing left of her and I want everyone who I've never came in contact with to have read this fic at least once in their entire life to get at least some use out of it.

this fic is my favourite ever.

bitten

beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s been a century since the last youve seen him, why come back now?

warnings: 🔞!!! vampire!beomgyu, vampire!reader, mentions of blood, blood drinking, biting, angst, mentions of a break up,mentions of bite mark scars, a bit of soulmate trope, oral (f!rec), no protection,mentions of subspace, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.8k (now this flung the 2k limit out the window )

an: thank you for the request! I hope that this captured the essence of the request because vamp!gyu was consuming my thoughts after I read those lines. I love vampire fics and im so sad I don't have more on my page already and this was the perfect time to add one. not proofread im so sorry my sweet angel darlings have mercy on me and forgive me of any mistakes found.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The bar was dark enough to keep the bruised necks and wrists of the occasional lost traveler hidden. Spots of blood dripped onto crisp white shirts scenting the air in coppery sweetness. It was a sickening smell to those who didn't need to feed, the alcohol keeping the rest of the occupants held over enough to ignore the twinge. 

You didn't come to places like this often, the back room filled with half-drunk vampires and humans, desperately grasping at each other as they took from one another. Even the drinks didn't call to you, not when he wasn't standing there behind the bar passing them to you, constantly working his eyes up your body like a desperate plea to have even a taste. He hadn't been turned then, not when you first met. The pull towards you always accounted for the fact you were tainted with blood lust. A moth to a flame, he felt that pull, your hunger enough to send him right into the fire without even glancing at him. 

It wasn't often that a human found themselves offering their bodies up to vampires. Most of them felt the hair rise on the back of their necks, the prickling of fear telling them that whoever was standing just round the corner was a wolf in perfectly tailored sheeps clothing, how tight that human look held onto you after your change. The uncanny glow seeping that poisonous warning off in waves, a trap waiting for the truly reckless to trip. 

The ones who wandered closer instead of away always found themselves in the back of bars like this, bruised and hazy eyed laying in beds done up in silk and candlelight. Beomgyu, although working behind the bar for years knew never to offer himself up to the ones who sunk his stomach, that warning to run ringing in his ears as he slid a drink across the hardwood. But you, the second the door had pushed open and your skin washed in that low down glow, tripped him up; your waiting trap snapping shut around him like a rib cage around fluttering lungs. Even the echo of fading hoof beats on stone sounded so close to the beating of his heart that he couldn't tell the difference between flight and flush. 

But that had been years ago, so many that you couldn't even remember the shade of his irises. You remember they were brown, staring up at ceilings casing empty houses trying and failing to conger up the image. Well over a century's worth of time to hate yourself for forgetting the one thing that drew you in at first glance. But it wasn't as if you didn't try to work your way through the fading memories of him, all flickering by like the passing pages of a notebook you forgot you wrote and held so dearly. All you could see was that empty bed, the sugary taste of his blood still on your tongue, your breast still tender from where he bit you over your heart, so hard the soft outline of his teeth, like a stain you desperately wanted to rid yourself of. 

You had come here, back to this bar only three times after he had left to check in. That night with tears in your eyes, heart crumbling, the second taehyun had confessed that beomgyu was gone, packed up with only a shrugged goodbye. “He said he doesn't know when he will be back,” 

You had waited ten years to return the next time, so little time when you counted decades like snowflakes, not the glass shattering hail you assumed beomgyu would have still thought of as a recently turned fledgling. But no one had seen him, heard from him, hardly even thought of him. But he plagued you, ran around your head until you could taste the blood coming from overworked joints. 

The third time was no better, not when you entered and Taehyun shook his head, apologizing for a friend he wouldn't recognize anymore. 

You had given up, moved away, and swore to never think about beomgyu and his puppy stare. That follow you everywhere look that seeped into your bones and begged you to never turn away from him. Only now you were back, sitting in the far corner you fell in love, sinking into the leather seat wishing you could have that first glance back. 

Taehyun felt pity when he saw you, knew that you had been locked away in some house countries away, only sending in orders for blood long since cold. He poured you a glass, the same drink you asked for with tears in your eyes that first night back alone, chugging so many of them back he's sure your blood tasted of fire, too sour, burning all the way down one's throat. 

“Thank you,” neither of you wanted to bring Beomgyu up but he was the first thing on both of your minds. 

“He hasn't-” 

“I don't care,” you tossed back your drink, the ripples of mixed in blood making your fangs tingle, ready to push through soft gums and piece flesh not yet provided. It's why you came. Tired of the empty flavored pints of blood brought to you by Soobin and his sorry eyes. You hadn't put your mouth on anyone since that night, not even when it felt as if you had been scooped out with a spoon, carved open, and laid bare from hunger. If it wasn't him you would have nobody. 

But that declaration was a century ago, so many cold cups later it was tiring to swallow another. “I want a girl, preferably quiet, business only,” Taehyun nodded to your order, already knowing the best pick. 

“Room 615, she can be brought back in about thirty minutes,” there was no room for judgment, not after the years of working behind this counter, sneaking into those beds just like everyone else had. But he knew what it took from someone who hated to drink from a vein, it's why they had the services, those who couldn't go out and find someone or someones to keep up a constant full belly. 

But human blood wasn't the same as drinking from a vampire, humans went out too quickly, blinking back their faintness, never able to take more than a few deep pulls before they were at capacity. Feeding from vampires was anything but a rush, that first mouthful was a wash of exhilaration. It made one dependent on each other, one taste and it was never the same. Taehyun could tell Beomgyu and you drank from each other. Could see it in the years after, the way you turned your nose up even at the bitter drink in your glass. 

You would never feel full again unless you had him back. 

Thirty minutes was enough time to go home and call soobin for a late night order. But your hunger was clawing up your throat, nails on a chalkboard begging for anything else. Having the time to think, sitting here, filled your mouth with the memory of him. Not just the taste of his blood but the faint drum of his turned heartbeat. You still remember the sound his human heart made. The way it pattered at the sight of you, that irregular beat speeding up every time you sat down in front of him, entered through the cherrywood door. 

How even after you had turned him his heart still acted as if it was tied to your presence, fluttering weakly even if it was all it could muster. 

It was that sound that made you turn, conjured up from memory only now to show up right behind you. Taehyun was frozen, face pale at the sight of his lost friend. He had only seen him once or twice after he had been turned but now he was no half human fledgling. 

Beomgyu and you were caught in a web of your own disastrous weaving, stuck in place witnessing the crumbling of love because seeing him only settled the grievances you held into stone.

He wasn't hollow like you were, empty from the time left alone, the bloodlust having fully settled over his skin making him shine in that uncanny beauty. Everything about his gentle human features has been frozen in place, the warmth in his brown eyes only enhanced in the light. How sickening to have to now face the reality of what you had done to him, what he must have run from once he realized he couldn't truly love the monster who infected him. 

It wasn't the butterflies of newfound love but sickening maggots wriggling in your stomach. You stumbled as you stood, not even worrying about the key taehyun had left for you next to your drink, not even a meal could keep you from running as far as you could. 

It had been too long for him to come back when you had given up on trying to wait for him. How many nights had been spent waiting for this exact moment? Only now for you to run away. How cruel fate could be. 

He was calling your name, that twinge of hurt mixed in with something close to pity, every syllable weaved through with the words, no, don't do this, don't make me feel sorry. Even his voice made you waver, the back and forth shake of your head confusing you as you walked down the wrong hallway. 

Even through the doors, you could smell the blood from the occupants behind them, like overripe fruit left to sit on the counter, nothing smelled the same after one drop from him. And now with Beomgyu right behind you, weak heartbeat still mimicking that first sight, it was impossible not to pinpoint the smell of him. Wrapping around you like fog; a haze you tried desperately to claw your way out of but you knew it was no use. You had never felt so hungry until then, carved clean through with the need. 

“Please, let me explain,” he tried, grasping at straws. He didn't intend to see you first, only planned on catching up with Taehyun and apologizing for leaving him behind without answers. Save this conversation for when he built up the courage. “Please,” 

His fingertips only brushed your arm, the shock of it going right down to your toes. It was instinct to turn and slap his hand away, and even in your exasperated exhale, that first acknowledgment was enough to make Beomgyu weak again, as if he had ever been anything but when attached to you. “What is there to explain? You left, you left me there, alone in our bed,” 

“I-” The words were stuck in his mouth, hanging right at the edge of his tongue and yet all that came up was a frustrated laugh, “well did you miss me?” even just hearing his own words he could tell you would fume. 

“Did I mi- you left me! You fucking left me, if anything now I just hate you,” 

It was so easy to fall back into it with you, as if you had woken up alone a few days ago not centuries, “look what you did to me. What I've become, don't act as if you're so innocent in this, don't blame me for decisions we both made,” 

The words felt like a slap in the face. That night you had turned him so clear in your mind, the way he had begged, the way he had burned. It was one of the hardest things you had ever done, most vampires went their whole lifetime without infecting anyone because of how hard it was to complete and yet you had. 

“I turned you after you asked me. Do you know how much it takes? And then like some love-sick fool, I drank from you and every day I think about how stupid I was to believe you would stay. After I left behind everything I knew just so that I could have some human boy stay with me. How pathetic,” the last word was thick, sticking to your throat and pulling your tears forward. “You should go back to wherever you ran away to, climb into some feeders bed to keep warm for all I care,” 

You turned, ready to close the door on a life you wished you had. The one you begged for after nights spent alone clinging to the sheets that still smelled of him. But Beomgyu wouldn't have it, his grip tight on your wrist as he pulled you back, “It was never about changing me, I left because I wanted to know if it was real- that intensity was so…consuming, I was scared and so I ran. I ran and I looked for some way to replicate it because I'm a fucking fool who can't see right in front of himself. You made me addicted to you, I begged you to do this to me and yet I ran. Im sorry,” 

“You can say that but you stayed away so long I'm sure you found some poor soul to swallow down by the mouthful,” he could feel your resentment coiling around him, snapping back at his desperate attempt to explain. Because there was no way for him to get the words out, even after running them around his head for the years he had lost all because of his own fear. 

That night was stuck right behind his eyelids, replaying over and over. Your body pressed to his, soundlessly sleeping as he looked up at your shared canopy bed. Your blood was still singing through his body, staining his perception of life before you. He didn't know he could be so utterly infected by someone so much so that it colored his sky differently. Your soft breathing was enough to tear him apart, he wanted countless nights spent exactly like that one, just watching you, listening to you sleep. And it scared him. He thought humans had been over-emotional, feeling things as they came, wallowing in them because they had little time to let it spread out. But he was wrong, he hadn't known how full the world felt, how full he was after one drop of love from you. And now he was empty, starved clean from his own doing. “I was ashamed,” 

The confession was so quiet matching your question, “And now?” 

Beomgyu looked up from under his lashes, he was close enough now that your scent was suffocating him, begging him to give in and just sink his teeth right over your heart. Find the same place they had last been because no one had been able to tempt him to even pull his fangs down, not since you. “And now I'm starving,” 

Even just the word from his mouth made your fangs ache. You had been getting by on so little for so long. He was the only thing your body needed and you knew he must feel the same. Your mouth was filled with saliva, that venom that numbed prey or set them ablaze. You tried to swallow but you could already taste him, the movement of your throat making his eyes zero in on your pulse. You were no better watching his adam’s apple bob, connecting the dots on long since gone trails of hickeys you’d left before. 

Neither of you knew who moved first, moaning against lips you were sure you’d never kiss again. His sweet venom singing on your tongue. His hands were heavy on your body, pulling you closer as he pushed you against the hallway wall. He wanted to melt into you, his desperation crawling up his skin, hips keeping you in place. 

You chuckled into his mouth, the sound rattling in the back of his throat like a prayer he wanted to keep to himself. “You always did get hard from kissing,” his whimper in response is followed by the grind of his bulge against you. How fast his body reacted to your touch didn’t change when he did. 

His heart was picking up speed, your fingers running through his hair, the groves of your fingertips slotting back into place amongst the strands. Beomgyu’s fangs were already elongating, nipping your bottom lip. He had always felt so good about his self-control, accounting those early days of overfeeding on you for the simple fact of being so recently changed, he should have known you were the variable that cracked the hold he had on himself. It was only worse now that he'd nicked you enough to mix blood into the kiss, his throaty moan rumbling against your body, sinking into your soul. 

You're both stumbling to find a room, twisting knobs until you find an empty one. The silk bed envelops the both of you as you fall into it, peeling off layers of clothes. Beomgyu can smell your sweet arousal between your legs the second he's pushed them apart to kneel between. 

“Now look at this,” you can feel the pad of his thumb running over the bite mark scars he's left on your inner thigh, his grin wicked enough to make your knees twitch. “I wonder if your pretty cunt will remember me as well as your skin has,” 

“You're impossible to forget,” and when you expected him to bite you, following the pattern of his usual ravishing but he skipped it, shocking you with his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking deeply. 

His mouth is on a direct line to your spine, your back arching off the bed. His tongue is hot on you, tracing the lines of your folds, and moaning into your slick. He missed these desperate whines you let slip, the perfect backtrack to the messy slurping sounds he's started. You hadn't even realized how much you had missed his mouth, your fingers twisting into his hair the second he brushed a fang against your swollen bud. He loved to tease but it had been too long since you felt your orgasm rise so fast. 

Beomgyu was eating you like he missed your pussy, your stomach tightening, hips sinking into the sheets. It only takes a few more precise sucks with his puffy lips before your toes are curling, eyes rolling back as you cum for him. His chuckle vibrates against you before he pulls away, chin shining with your wetness. “I missed the taste of you,” 

He hasn't even tried to find someone else to take care of his needs, not when he knew no other cunt could compare to the way yours perfectly molded to him, sucking him in to the hilt. The memory alone is what had him rushing to get inside of you, cock already leaking rivets of precum. 

You've never felt so needy in your life, fangs and pussy aching for him. The drag of his tip from your clit to your weeping entrance makes your knees fall open. One of his hands guides himself to push into you and the other tenderly holds your hip in place. Your mouth drops open at the stretch, slow as he lets you take in the feeling, needing you to remember how full he kept you. 

Beomgyu whines, breath quickening as he shoves in the last few inches. He lets his body fall onto yours, needing to be closer, needing to drag his lips over your neck, teeth scratching at your pulse, “say it again, tell me how much you hate me,” 

But he knows you can hardly speak, your legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him down closer. “Shut up,” you gasp, his hips rolling against yours. 

“then beg me,” he doesn’t even have to say for what. Not when your neck is rolling back to give him better access to your vein, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “If you don’t hate me, beg me to taste you. I know you remember how much I love to mix the flavor of your blood with your cum still in my mouth,”

As many times as he's crossed your mind, thinking about his fangs in your neck was something that would never compare to the moment they finally sunk in. You had never let anyone feed from you, not until he was there in front of you pleading. You were no better, not after you had changed him, needing to drain him of almost everything. But with one nod he was biting you. 

Beomgyu’s mouth was flooded with your blood, the familiar flavor of iron mixed with the undercurrent of sweet delicacy. He’d dream about the first bite, mouth tingling, fangs brought forward on nothing but the memory of you. Now he was ravenous, so shocked by his own hunger with its pounding fists on nailed shut doors. His hips stuttered in his thrusting, caught on the ecstasy of quenched starvation. 

You felt your mind slip into that hazy space, anything he asked would be answered, every action would be taken, and all you knew was him and him alone. To have that numbing venom injected into your bloodstream was enough to break even the strongest down into puddles of simmering whimpers. 

It was hard to pull away and keep himself from overfeeding like he wished he could. But he felt his orgasm cresting, stomach flexing as his balls tightened. Beomgyu shoved his wrist to your waiting lips, your fangs stinging as they pierced his weak flesh. You drank deeply, thick swallows of the ichor you had prayed to get back on your tongue.

Everything was crashing down around you, beomgyu groaning as you clenched around him, fluttering walls sucking him in as you came, taking everything he had to give. He was a mess of moans, clinging to you as if that could keep him grounded when he felt this good. Every slow shallow thrust only pushes his cum further into you, still being pulled from him with every pulse of your greedy pussy. 

Neither of you can believe how lost you had become, falling into each other like stars crashing into nothing but pooling darkness, so full of energy the only option was to collapse. And it's just what you did, twisting into each other's hold, beomgyu’s kisses pressed over the puncture marks he's made on you, nose brushing up and down your skin trying to keep your scent close. 

Breathing evening you fought back the worry settling in. He had left before, walked right out the door without you knowing anything wrong had been on his mind, what was keeping him from doing it all over again? 

“Stop thinking,” he muttered, mouth finding yours, mixing the flavors of your blood together as he kissed you. “I don't think I could find it in myself to ever leave again,” but he was pulling away, his playful smirk lingering on his lip cleansing your worrying mind if even for a movement. “How could I ever leave again after seeing how happy and full you are after only one round?” he pulled his still hard cock from you, the gush of cum slipping out, pooling on his ready fingers only to shove them right back into your waiting cunt. “No, nothing could keep me from this sight ever again,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @no1likemybbgcharlie @beomiracles want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[skeletwinsauaskbox]

Hey, guys! Sorry I didn't answer many questions today. I was having a bit of an off day and my motivation went kerplunk on most things.

Aaaaaaaaaaanyhoo, that said, I'll still try to answer as many questions as I can tonight. But FIRST! I just want to show you guys the upcoming chapters (basically the ones in the planning stage or have already been planned). I have a list of them here, and I'll give cheeky little synopses/tidbits/explanations for the chapters below!

Hehe, it's all under the cut if you wanna read.

Heart Drive (currently writing) - Mettaton and Napstablook will make their debuts in this chapter, but they won't be the main focus. They have significant roles in it, but it's actually focused more on Sans and Alphys' friendship and their flaws. I think it's also the first long Sans chapter too, so that's neat.

Snail Races (planned) - Napstablook is a major character, Gerson makes his debut, and lots of chaos and ancient magic lore. It will also introduce an important plot point involving the twins and how their magic works in this AU.

The Snowdin Snowathon Championships! (planned) - This one's just pure shenanigans, really. Papyrus basically enters an annual sports event and Sans ends up being a goofy commentator for it. I've been thinking about sports events that we humans have and thought, "I wonder if monsters have sports events like we do. What would that look like?" Thus, this chapter was born! Haha!

Undyne and Sans (planned) - A short chapter. Undyne and Sans meet in person for the first time and talk about Papyrus. That's about it.

Ketchup To My Level (planned) - A lot of you send in ketchup-themed asks for Sans, and I understand why! He just hasn't drank ketchup yet! Well, this is a chapter literally all about that, except me being me, I've basically expanded it and contextualised it for this AU. Long story short, Sans kinda goes insane, but in a comedic way. Honestly, I'm excited to write this one.

Spaced Out (planned?) - This is a unique, experimental chapter because the narrator for the majority of this one is not the regular narrator, but SANS AND PAPYRUS THEMSELVES. They come up with this crazy story together with aliens and giant robot dogs. No, nothing makes sense. It's Sans and Papyrus, the definition of goofballs, of course they're not gonna make sense!

Mandatory Training (planning) - Undyne and Papyrus' friendship gets a bit more development, there's a demonstration of the twins' musical powers acting up, and we get Sans being a lazybones and Papyrus showing more of his insecure side. That's all I got so far.

Honestly, I'm trying to make the best of the more goofy chapter before things get a bit more serious in chapter 34 onwards. I consider chapter 34 to be the "turning point" of the fic, honestly, despite it being a short chapter. It's just where things get a bit darker. Enjoy these goofy chapters while you can! :D

Anyway, see ya! I'll get to answering your questions again soon!

[queer-ragnelle]

hello! hope you're having a good day :)

I'm slowly introducing my girlfriend to arthurian legend and I was wondering what films you would recommend for a complete beginner (her). I will be next to her explaining things but I also wanted to start off with something more digestible. We've already watched the green knight (2021) (I know) and excalibur (1981) together. thank you for all you do!

Hello, I am and I hope you are too!

Oh yayyy this is so awesome. I'm going to suggest things that I personally feel really give a newbie a grasp of the characters in such a way that if they were to watch something else afterward, it would actually aid them in understanding. There are some films that are so experimental they're unrecognizable (like Knightriders (1981) or Shadow of the Raven (1988)). Those are amazing, visionary films. But they're entrenched in their respective cultures (American and Icelandic respectively) so they don't really help someone new grasp the foundational lore like the things I'll be suggesting will. This list offers self-contained stories with solid writing, great acting, and entertainment enough to keep one engaged, without any requirement for prior knowledge to appreciate.

Here are the beginner friendly options listed in order of release:

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Details the rise & fall of Camelot from Arthur pulling the sword from the stone to his & Mordred's deaths. It has everything, the A/G/L of all time, adorable Percival & Elaine as siblings, Orkney bros Gawain, Agravaine, Gareth, & Mordred (who is not a product of incest), sassy clever Morgan beefing with fatherly sweet Merlin, gorgeous costuming, moving script.

BBC The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

This is technically a show but hear me out. It's only 8 episodes, half hour each, & covers the full Arthurian story from Uther's battle with Gorlois to take Igraine all the way to Arthur's passing. Morgan is a central character & fascinating. Arthur raised by Ector alongside Kay. Goes to battle against Lot & Accolon & the other rebellious lords. Great Lancelot & Bors. Guinevere is strong & interesting & sympathetic. Orkney bros Gawain, Agravain, Gareth, & Mordred (who is not a product of incest). Elaine of Corbenic & Elaine of Astolat both present as separate women. Grail quest led by Galahad (no Percival unfortunately). Mador’s brother Guido poisoned “by Guinevere” like in Le Morte d’Arthur & a trial by combat ensues. It’s a really compelling version of events that can give a beginner a great overview of the legends.

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Opens with an older Arthur looking to marry. Lancelot is his bestie & champion. Other knights include Gawain, Mordred (who is not a product of incest), Bedivere, Dagonet the jester, Lamorak, Kay the seneschal, & eventually Tor. Lancelot/Guinevere have great chemistry they were married irl.

Gawain and the Green Knight (1991)

Faithful adaptation of SGATGK complete with three days of kissing! Unique by having Gawain recount the reason for his journey as he’s already on it. Flashbacks show Gawain at the high table with Arthur & Guinevere, sitting next to his brother Agravaine, when the Green Knight comes in, & is beheaded. The events at Bertilak’s castle play out just like the poem with the lady coming to tempt Gawain & then he forwards those kisses to Bertilak in exchange for the animal of the hunt. Colorful & fun!

Tristan & Isolde (2006)

One of my favorites. I think the leads have great chemistry & gives a decent overview of the Medieval story without too much access. Mark here is morally way better than in Medlit but it does make the live triangle more juicy. Brangain is really funny here too. There is no magic in this version, so no love potion. Just pure unaided adultery.

Sir Lanval (2011)

Short & sweet indie movie adapting Marie of France’s lay of the same name. Great casting, beautiful costuming, pretty sets. Lanval’s rags to riches story thanks to his fairy lady Tryamour. Sport but well-meaning Arthur not doing his marital duties gives Guinevere sufficient motivation to try & seduce Lanval. Kay is here as Arthur’s foster brother & seneschal but sort of acts like an attorney? Lol? Great movie.

Sire Gauvain et le Chevalier Vert (2014)

Another SGATGK poem adaptation, this time in French (with English subtitles) & condensed to a mere 28 minutes run time. Visually stunning & beautifully acted. A little more mature than the 1991 version, bc of course the French have to get freaky with it sexual style (this is a good thing). Another awesome adaptation worth checking out.

Okay I think those are all my suggestions! Hope that gives you and your girlfriend a solid watch list and you both enjoy them. Take care!

[butwhatifidothis]

I guess the ultimate thing that kills CF for me - or at least nudges it away from me saying I definitively like it - is just how much Edelgard is clearly written with the player in mind before she's written with her character in mind.

Because on all of the other routes, there's a power to Edelgard's presence. Even on BE, there's a sense that for as lonely as Edelgard might be, she still ultimately will do whatever it takes for her to get what she wants. Be that be killing her citizens (or otherwise letting them be killed), endangering her friends, assisting in kidnapping people, allowing Byleth to support her only when they have the Sword of the Creator, covering for TWS - no bar is too low for her to limbo under if doing so means she's even a step closer to her goals.

She's manipulative! She's deceitful! She doesn't care for the lives of her people! Even her friends are forfeit if they try to stand in her way! And this happens no matter how close you, the player, get to her, in the case of BE - C+ ain't stoppin' Remire, and going to the coronation ain't stopping the Holy Tomb.

And in the war phase, she is dominating the field. She has the Kingdom completely on the ropes, down to a few houses standing against Imperial rule, and the Alliance is stuck in neutrality - she may not be able to do much to it, but neither can they do anything to her (to say nothing of the Alliance houses who stand with her). She's far from the underdog in this race, and she shows off how threatening she can be.

CF? Her route?

She scweams at scawy rats. She gets embawwassed when you find her dwawings. She's just so wonewy, and she's just so gwad that you chose her. She somehow fails to capture Rhea, or frame Dimitri for regicide, and so now has to deal with that on the Kingdom's side of the war. But that doesn't stop Elly Welly-kins fwom twying to find her pwecious teacher, because you're just so important to her. She cwies and hugs you when you meet her in the Goddess Tower!! Because she missed you so much!!

It's like... Dimitri and Claude certainly show different sides of themselves on their respective routes. It's the whole point! You grow closer to them and thus see how they treat those close to them, as opposed to being the Kinda Neat Teacher they see run along every now and then. But, like... Claude doesn't become a blushing maiden whenever Byleth speaks with him on VW. Dimitri doesn't scream at scary rats and get called cute for it on AM. They don't get Basic Bitch Gap Moe Traits slapped onto them that are only ever shown to the player and only on their routes. Unlike Edelgard.

Dimitri's endearing trait is that he's this big huge dude who can bench-press forests and arm-wrestle god who still wants to learn to sew and who teaches kids to protect themselves and who buys candies for his friends. Claude's endearing trait is that he's this mastermind planner who has contingency and lie and obfuscation as three separate legal government names who still wants everyone to be safe and happy and hold hands and be friends.

Edelgard is strong, confident, and willing to do some of the shittiest things known to man for her goals. Her endearing trait is that her screams are cute. She's shy about her drawings of the player character. She blushes over the player potentially joking about having sex with her per her JPN version of her C support; you know, the one about how Byleth walks in on Edelgard muttering in her sleep from a nightmare about her tortured family? Perfect time to joke about fucking her! Dimitri and Claude's endearments are, well, endearing; Edelgard's are all straight up embarrassing for her.

Hell, even the smaller stuff is affected! Claude's passion for poisons and mushrooms are things he has no qualms about having others know about, despite how weird they are. Dimitri laughing at shitty jokes brings him no personal discomfort or embarrassment, despite just how loudly he laughs at them. They have traits to them that can easily be uwu worthy, and they don't care! Of the lords, only Edelgard does! Because, it feels like, the only way for a strong, resolute female character to come off as approachable is if she's knocked down a few pegs for specifically and only you, the player.

And that sucks ass! I'm sorry, but when I'm playing Edelgard's route I don't want to deal with her hiding herself away in her room for a month IN THE MIDDLE OF HER FUCKING WAR because she's just so embawwassed! It is so fucking insensitive that Edelgard is literally the only lord of the three who can have her trauma openly belittled at any point in the story by Byleth, all to have some cheap cutesy uwu moment about her fear of rats (calling her screaming in fear cute and INSISTING that it's really cute which is just. Fucking ew man)! Why can we fucking mock Edelgard's manner of speech during the MASSACRE OF REMIRE?

This shit doesn't happen to Claude or Dimitri! And saying "oh just don't pick those options then" is bullshit because no equivalent options exist for the male lords! It's piss-boilingly annoying that the second you choose to see things from the strong confident villainous ambitious female lord's perspective you can reduce her down to this bumbling moeblob just for you (sometimes unavoidably!) like!! Dude!

[razmerry]

this is a genuinely vulnerable, touching, and emotionally powerful moment of seeking out connection from jason to dick until you remember that being "all back to normal" refers to when jason got digested by an alien, trapped in a goo egg, and then turned into a tentacle monster that ate people

[celtrist]

Why does Vassago already have merch, we haven't even met him yet

[nekrosmos]

Your comments... Ahh. I have read it four (4) times. I don't think you understand how amazing you are for commenting on fics and just unpicking everything you liked and...

Thank you, bud. Made my morning. Skilled of paintbrush, big of heart.

(Even kindly ignored the duplicated paragraph where I was pasting poorly from GoogleDocs, lmao, it's gone now.)

Glad you enjoyed them <3 You put so much effort and love into your fics, I feel like it's literally the least I can do. Still, I wish I found some better words because I feel like I repeat myself a lot, but your fics just make my brain melt, in the best way possible👉​👈​

Bringing this one back

[runawaymun]

the whole tiktok ban situation is super crunchy and I'm conflicted. Because on the one hand...it does feel startlingly close to a kind of censorship and I think the whole 'chinese government links' thing is pure scaremongering. But on the other hand I genuinely think that tiktok has accelerated the rate of enshittification of so, so many things. Like it has been a net harm in basically everything. Even the publishing industry is suffering now. As someone who wants to get novels published, the entire state of the publishing industry catering to tiktok and the quality of even bookbinding rapidly deteriorating in the past couple of years, I've been reconsidering and thinking about simply setting up a website/archive to self publish my work.

So...I don't know. It's not as if other social media sites (X, Facebook, etc.) haven't done harm, and it's not like huge media giants like Google haven't caused possibly irreparable damage to how things work now, but...I just distinctly remember a pre-tiktok, pre-covid world and things legitimately weren't as bad online then as they are now. Tiktok actually feels uniquely bad. The change happened so rapidly, too. At what point do we decide that a product causes enough visible harm that it needs to be removed? Because that's what tiktok is, at the end of the day. It's a product. We don't have the same clear measurement as we do with, say, lead paint on children's toys, but idk idk idk...