#{{prompt answer}}

[bangpop91writing]

hii! I have this picture in my head of Tommy in bed on his back sweating whilst Buck is riding his dick and holding his(Tommy's) hands/wrists above his head. Buck has his head smushed in Tommy's pit(s) and is getting drunk on the smell his man... care to write something about that? pretty pretty please!!!! <3

I love it! This is right up my ally and it's been awhile since I wrote some fun scent kink. I hope you enjoy!

I am really sorry about how long this took me to post. Between a god awful migraine and parenting writing took me awhile. I hope it was worth the wait!

Send Me Prompts

Sweat wasn't really something Buck put a lot of thought into before Tommy. Sure he enjoyed working out with his exes and getting sweaty between the sheets, or anywhere else they had sex. But Tommy had unlocked more doors for Buck than just his bisexuality. Buck has a list.

Getting man handled is one of the hottest things that he has ever experienced.

Beard burn is way hotter than it has any right to be. Especially between his thighs and on his ass.

Experimenting with the differences between getting fucked by Tommy's dick and toys.

He loves sucking dick and eating pussy(or ass) in equal measure.

He thinks he might be a little bit of a size queen… Or maybe that one is just a Tommy specific thing.

Sweat is kinda(really) fucking hot.

Read the rest on AO3 or bellow the cut

The list is obviously longer than that, and there's another list of things he wants to try with Tommy. But honestly he can't remember anything else at the moment. Not when he has Tommy pinned under him and definitely not he has Tommy's dick in his ass.

Tommy's promoter friend Alvey, had put together a charity fight featuring first responders from around the country to raise money for cancer research and had asked Tommy to participate. Buck is only a man, and watching his man win fight after fight had really done it for him. How could it not? Watching a hot, sweaty, Tommy in those skin tight shorts man handling other guys was almost as good as being the one manhandled by a hot, sweaty Tommy.

Buck hadn't even given Tommy time to shower after the last fight of the night, which Tommy won, before dragging Tommy up to their hotel room to somehow his boyfriend just how much he'd enjoyed the fights. Buck still doesn't really get why Tommy enjoy watching UFC fights as much as they do, but he has developed his own appreciation for Maui Thai. Actually that also is probably a Tommy specific kink to add to his list.

But after a fight or spar, when Tommy is still high on adrenaline and pent up aggression he is more likely to roughly manhandle Buck, leading to really hot, rough sex and tonight was no exception.

They had barely made it into their hotel room when Buck had been pressed against the wall with Tommy absolutely devouring him while tearing Buck out of his clothes. There wasn't much to tear Tommy out of, just the soft zip up hoodie and those sinfully tight shorts that made Tommy's thighs and ass look even more delectable than usual.

Buck had pushed Tommy back towards the large hotel bed, not making it far at all before Tommy had growled, squatting just enough to grip Buck's thighs, wrapping them around his waist before picking him up carrying him the short distance to the bed. At first Buck had been perfectly happy to let Tommy manhandle him, putting Buck exactly where he wanted it.

It is so hot. Buck is not small, he's never been small, even before he started packing on muscle. Sure him and Tommy are the same height and similar builds, but Tommy knows how to use the muscle he has on Buck to pin him in place. Which is with Buck on top of Tommy, his ass in Tommy's face while he buries his face in Tommy's sweaty groin, sucking Tommy's cock and balls while he is licked and fingered open by Tommy.

He's flipped onto his back, with his knees pressed to his chest when Tommy finally slides his cock into Buck. There is no teasing, no slow roll of hips, or tender kisses. Its fast and hard and biting. And Buck is perfectly happy with letting Tommy fuck him like that, well for awhile anyways. Buck gets his legs wrapped around Tommy's middle, then uses his muscles just the way Tommy had taught him during those Maui Thai lessons to flip them over so that Buck is the one on top all without dislodge Tommy's cock. He grabs Tommy's massive hands in his own pinning them over his head.

"Stay." Buck growled, impaling himself on Tommy's massive cock, grinding down against his boyfriends hips. As hot as it is being pinned under Tommy, it is equally hot being the one doing the pinning. There is something heady about having all of that raw power and strength pinned obediently under him that makes Buck feel powerful in a way he had never experienced before Tommy. He doesn't have to worry about holding back, about being careful, Tommy won't break under him.

Tommy isn't exactly pliant under Buck, still to keyed up from the fight. Tommy bends his knees pressing his feet into the bed thrusting up into Buck meeting each of his own downward thrusts.

Buck doesn't release Tommy's hands at first, he wants to make sure Tommy will stay where Buck put him. He only has to remind Tommy to stay put once when Tommy tries breaking the hold Buck has on him. Buck doesn't know how effective his growl was considering it had been more breathy moan than actual growl, resulting in Tommy grinning up at him wolfishly.

"Don't worry, kitten, Daddy's got you." Tommy had practically purred with the danger of a large cat. Buck didn't even have time to whine in protest when Tommy broke the hold easily freeing his hands from Buck's tight grip. With one arm remaining extended over his head, the other came up gripping his fingers in the back of Buck's hair, tangling his fingers in the curls there. Tommy uses his grip yanking Buck forward pressing his face into Tommy's underarm.

"There you go, kitten. Take exactly what you need." Tommy growled. And Buck does exactly that. He smothers himself in Tommy's armpit inhaling the sent of sweat and musk like the first breath of fresh air after a fire.

Tommy's continued grip in Buck's curls is completely unnecessary, he is more than happy to bury his face in Tommy, nuzzling the sweat damp hair, licking away the sweat, while imprinting the scent in his memory. But he loves the forceful grip holding his head in place and Tommy knows it.

Their thrusts become frantic as they race towards their orgasms. Their hotel room is filled with the sound of slapping skin and low, animalistic moans. Buck gets one of his hands between them, fisting his cock, jerking it frantically in time with their increasingly sloppy trusting. Buck comes with a loud drawn out moan, feeling completely surrounded by Tommy even though he's the one on top.

It doesn't last long though before Tommy rolls them over again, pounding into Buck, chasing his own orgasm. Tommy comes with his own low moan, while biting down on the space where Buck's neck meets his shoulder. They collapse in a sweaty, sticky heat, exchanging slow kisses as they come down from their frantic fucking and the high of their orgasms.

Later, after cleaning up in the shower. Buck is getting dressed when he sees the bruise on his shoulder in the shape of Tommy's teeth. Turns out he has something new to add to the list.

Getting marked with hickies.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Supersons +1 prompt answer Parte Dos

Parte Uno

Original Prompt

Jon couldn't help but take a peek at the large metal ring constructed behind the massive form of Dr Fenton, its size and shape dwarfing man and son. He couldn't watch for much longer, however, as their encounter with Daniel was expedited by Damian's impatience. Maybe he was just itching for a fight, or a supervillain to beat down. Either way, as Superboy, it was his job to make sure Daniel walked out with all his limbs intact!

"Daniel Fenton." But Damian was interrupted just as fast as he had started.

"Ew, no, it's Danny thank you very much. Only my parents when they're angry, and- bleh- Vlad, call me Daniel."

Damian scowled (he was doing that a lot today). "Daniel Fenton, we have some questions for you."

"Guess that's not gonna happen."

Time to intervene. Jon stepped between Damian and Danny, arms outstretched, with a friendly but diplomatic smile. "What Damian here means is we're suuuuper curious about your dad's research, aren't you Damian?"

"...Yes."

"If you wanna know more about my Dad's research, why don't you uhh." Danny bobbed his head at Mr Fenton's direction, the man in the midst of grabbing onto an unfortunate bystander and extolling the virtues of his next invention.

"Your father has proven lacking in his ability to explain his own work, which is why the responsibility now falls on to you, Daniel Fenton, if that's even your real name."

Wow, laying it on real thick, aren't you Damian.

Danny very pointedly ignores the death stare (hehe, death stare) from Dami to look to Jon. "And you are...?"

"Jon, I'm here with my dad too! He's a reporter, but some of this stuff's got me bored out of my mind. I mean, a flying toilet? Really??"

This manages to get a chuckle out of Danny. "You saw that too? And here I thought I'd get to see some normal inventions around here."

"I know right! I feel subconscious even with bathroom stalls and stuff. What are you gonna do, bring a flying curtain?"

"Honestly I know some folks back home who could find it handy." Danny said, a mysterious smirk on his lip. What could be so mysterious about a bunch of streakers back home? Or...

"Would you like to elaborate on that statement, Fenton?" Damian cut in. "Or the function of the garish-looking gateway erected by your Father?"

"Oh that? That's the Fenton PortaPortal."

"Porta what?" Jon asked.

"The Porta Portal. Portable Portal. It's like the one back home, 'cept it's light enough to move around."

"Portal to where exactly?"

Danny shrugs. "The Ghost Zone, where else?"

"You mean to say your parents have breached the afterlife using science?"

"Hah!" Danny laughs. "But it won't work, trust me." There was that knowing grin again.

"You seem pretty sure, Danny. Also wait, you have one of these back home?"

"Yeah, and it let in the raging hordes of the undead on my town. Overshadowing (that's possession btw), taking over the school with meat, box-based assault, replacing people like changelings, that one time a ghost tried to blow up my sister with a laser, that one time the Ghost King kidnapped the entire town and transported it to the Realms..." Danny listed out various dangerous situations like it was Tuesday, ignorant of the dawning horror upon his audience's faces. Jon himself was starting to feel a little green. Ghosts? Hundreds of ghosts? Each of them capable of possession, and according to Danny, much more?!

"How has the Justice League not heard of this kind of thing?" Jon tried, but failed to hide the slight shiver in his voice.

Danny shrugged. "Guess they dismissed our calls as pranks or something."

"Your father wishes to unleash the legions of undead upon Gotham?!" Damian stepped forward, getting up in Danny's face.

"Woah woah woah, chill out man. Mom and Dad actually learned from the last time and built like eight layers of shielding around the portal, not that it'll be necessary since it won't work anyway."

"And why are you so sure? Did you sabotage it? For whwat purpose would you tamper with your own parents' inventions?"

"Dami, maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions." Jon said, trying to pull Damian away without any obvious use of super strength.

"Yeah Dami, I'm just a kid, like you. You see an engineering degree anywhere that can be used to sAboTAgE anything? 'Cause I don't."

Damian glared at the other boy for just a second longer, before Jon was finally able to pry him off the poor kid. "I'm so sorry, Damian's just kinda intense sometimes, he really means well I-"

"It's fine. Besides, I'm bored as hell over here too. Since we're about sixty-nine million years below the average age of this place. what say we hang and laugh?" Danny got up and stretched his legs.

"Sure! Hey you seen the oven that's supposed to bake pizza in under ten seconds? Come on, Damian spotted this amazing design flaw, you just have to come with."

As Jon dragged them away, Damian muttered under his breath, deviously. "Good job, Kent, escorting Fenton to a secondary location for further questioning."

~~~~~ They spent the next hour roaming the convention centre, laughing and snorting their lungs out at the inventions, and the rich suckers lapping them up. Although Damian was initially as frosty as Superman's ice breath, Danny's mention of a glowing green ghost dog managed to gain his attention, if veiled behind suspicion and accusation. Looks like no squeezing was necessary, but the idea of a whole town of magical beings that possessed as easily as they breathed still made Jon nauseous.

"My parents actually get me keep him, without the threat of dissection, it's amazing!"

"Your parents dissect animals?" Damian spat out with all the hatred of a thousand dying suns.

"Ghosts, and they never have. Kept getting away. For some reason. Nowadays they're more into non-invasive study. and by non-invasive I mean totally invasive of things like privacy, and alone time." Danny grumbled.

"I feel you, man." Imagine having a dad with super hearing. Or growing up with the world's greatest stalkers.

"Privacy is an illusion." Damian being normal challenge IMPOSSIBLE

They had no more time to banter before Dr Fenton's booming voice echoed across the centre.

"AND NOW FOR THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR, THE SHOWCASE OF THE FENTON PORTAPORTAL AND THE LATEST IN FENTON SURVEILLANCE TECHNOLOGY, BEHOLD!"

"Just watch." Danny said.

Jack slammed his fist upon the on button, which was thankfully on the outside this time. The circular rings around the portal spun and spun, creating an electric whirring sound building up to a crescendo...

Only for the portal to fizzle out, as the crowd's jeers reached a fever pitch.

"Told you so."

Danny's triumph lasted not for another minute, however, when his body shivered and a cold mist broke through his lips. "Shit." He muttered. At least Jon and Damian were looking away. Danny's eyes scanned the crowd. Jack Fenton's sorrow was wiped away as the sensors in his suit came to life. He whipped out a comically large ecto-gun, shouting. "I KNEW IT! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK FROM GHOSTS!!!"

Danny needed look no longer as piercing laughter filled the auditorium. A swarm of green bats descended upon the centre, causing chaos and confusion. Those among the crowd sensible enough to run for the exits found themselves halted by bars locking them shut. Jack opened fire, but was overwhelmed by dozens of ghost bats.

Danny looked for anywhere he could silp away and transform. Damian and Jon did the same. None of them could an opportunity, as two pairs of hands swept them off their feet, and bindings tied them together. Their eyes widened as they gazed upon their captors. Two men adorned with white face paint. One in a gothic waistcoat, the other with green hair and a purple suit.

The infamous Joker, and the not as infamous Freakshow, both in hysterical laughter.

"I really gotta give it to you Danny-boy, that sabotage act you pulled really put us for a loop!" The Joker gasped out between laughs. He pulled out a remote with a large red button. "But I, the Joker, have out-sabotaged your sabotage! AHAHAHAH"

The Joker pressed the buttom, causing the portal to roar back to life.

"Damian!" Bruce Wayne yelled.

"Jon!" Clark Kent shouted.

"DANNY BOY!" Jack cried out, but they were too late to stop the swarm of bats carrying all three boys through the newly reactivated portal, and were too late to follow before the whole thing blew to pieces in a fiery halo.

To be continued....

[petvampire]

kink prompt one for the night! charles/cat king + blindfold for @artemisadore

~

Charles usually doesn't enjoy being robbed of his senses. It's dangerous, for one thing, means anything could sneak up on him, get the drop on him. But he's not on the case right now - not anywhere close, in fact. There's nothing likely to sneak up on him here in the cannery in Port Townsend.

Except, of course, for the man he's here visiting.

He's never quite sure what to expect of the Cat King, as he's discovered he's a man of quite... varied tastes. Which technically he knew from observation alone. Experiencing those tastes, though... it's something very different. Charles is learning more than he bargained for, perhaps. Doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it.

Trust wasn't exactly second nature between the two of them, not the way it is with him and Edwin, or even him and Monty. It's grown over time, though, and Charles is definitely willing to trust the other enough now.

Enough to let him bind his hands and tie a strip of black silk over his eyes, anyway. He's sprawled out on the other's bed (he swears it's more massive than it was the first time, leaving space for more bodies just in case), trying to focus on sound alone to indicate where the hell the other is. He's a dab hand at moving silently, though, so Charles is completely surprised when a hot tongue drags up his stomach, seemingly out of nowhere. The Cat King laughs, low and taunting, as the ghost jolts away from the contact before arching into it.

Okay, maybe this is more interesting than Charles had thought it would be.

Thomas toys with him for... fuck, he doesn't actually even know how long, draws away and leaves him straining to guess where or when the next touch will come from. A hand trailing ever so lightly up his inner thigh, or sharp teeth nipping at his collarbone; a brush of hot breath over his cock, or a teasing flick of fingertips against his cheek, as if just to drive the point home that Charles is absolutely terrible at guessing where he'll touch next. It's maddening in the best of ways, but it won't break him.

Mostly because by the time he's really drawn out the teasing, Charles has wormed his way out of the knots binding his wrists. The next time the Cat King touches him, he's on him in an instant, pulling the other close, rolling to pin him against the mattress. He tugs off the blindfold with a grin, leans down to kiss the so-frustrating and so-fascinating feline, nipping at his lower lip, grinding against him with an insistent need.

When he pulls back, though, it's with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "My turn."

[dsmp-for-kink]

Hi! I decided to submit it to the blog. Prompt: cpunz is into objetification, he likes being used and created as an object for his partner to use at their will. Link: https://www.tumblr.com/dsmp-for-kink/772067494433292288/cpunz-is-into-objetification-he-likes-being-used?source=share

I hope it looks good, thank You sm for organizing this :D

Linking it to the prompt now :oD

[sweaterkittensahoy]

rosielemmons fic prompt idea if you are still open!

I'm a sucker for an outsider POV! They could just be doing something as simple as talking in broad daylight about repairs but they are so down bad for each other that everyone walking by is just like 👀 hmmm, there's something going on there...(in a non-homophobic way, who the hell wants historical accuracy all the time.)

"Lordy loo, they're doing it again," Jacobson says from a few feet away.

Winks turns around and follows Jacobson's gaze. Ken's on the wing of a fort, straddling a propeller. He's got a wrench in his hand, but he's not using it. He's leaning forward with his arms crossed, caught in conversation with Rosie.

Rosie, who is standing on the ground with his hands on his hips and beaming at Ken as he says something that makes Ken nod with enthusiasm and lean forward a little more.

"He's gonna fall on his damn head," Jacobson says.

Winks snorts. "Nah, Roise'll catch him in a bridal carry and sweep him away to the infirmary just to be sure his pretty little curls didn't get bent in the air."

Jacobson chuckles. "You think they know yet?" He asks Winks.

"That all of us know they're flirting or that they're clearly gonna get married five minutes after the war ends?"

"Either? Both?"

Winks shrugs. "I can't tell. Ken's never been a kiss and tell kind of guy, and as nice as Rosie is, I'm not asking a ranking officer if he's railing my crew chief."

Jacobson's face screws up. "Why you gotta say it like that?"

"If I said it for what it was, I'd throw myself into the Channel for the flowery language," Winks replies.

A laugh carries over. It's Ken's, bright and sweet. Rosie looks pleased as punch he's made it happen. Winks groans and tugs at Jacobson's coveralls. "Come on, help me with the tail alignment."

"I hope they make it," Jacobson says. "I truly do."

"Yeah, well, keeping these forts flying gives 'em a chance," Winks replies. "So, let's get to it."

Down the runway, Ken straightens up. "You wanna see what this looks like from the inside?" He points to the propeller.

"Without bullet holes? Love to," Rosie says. He pulls himself up on the wing and sits next to Ken. "They were watching us again," he says, his voice just for Ken. "I could feel it."

Ken grins. "They sure were. Maybe one of these days I'll even confirm their suspicions."

Rosie nudges Ken with his shoulder. "You haven't told 'em? You embarrassed by me, Lemmons?"

Ken chuckles and starts to undo a bolt. "Not even a little bit. But it's fun to keep 'em guessing. Makes me feel like I'm teasing my brothers."

Robert holds out a hand to take the bolt Ken's loosened. "Well, then, I won't demand a public announcement. Show me how you make this propeller behave itself."

[wispmotherr]

shaymien: "good boy." , "For you, always.", "I want to believe you."

hoo boy, okie buckle in for some fantasy-au noble shayne/captain of the guard damien mildly spicy business beyond the cut

“I want to believe you, Shayne, I really do, but you’re just like the other nobles,” Damien said, voice rough as he pinned Shayne beneath him, sitting firmly on his hips and trapping his hands above his head. Shayne was not a willowy, untrained Lord’s son: he had muscle and his body was one of a soldier, but Shayne hated training, hated the mornings he spent in the ring with his father’s knights and their squires. Not because of the work and the effort, though. It was because he didn’t want to fight. He wouldn’t fight. Not him, not his father’s enemies, maybe even not what was happening right now, on the cold earth at the edge of a dark forest.

As that thought permeated his hazy thoughts, Damien knew his previous statement, uttered out of a bizarre and drunken mix of anger and want and self-loathing, was wrong. Shayne was nothing like them, was so different from them and the proof was in the way the blonde man was looking up at him now.

There was hurt on his handsome face, laced with indignation and… something else. But Shayne didn’t bark orders at Damien to get off of him, didn’t shout and fight back at the way the Captain of the Guard pressed his hips down against his own. There was no mistaking that a part of Shayne, no matter how distant or instinctive that part might be, was enjoying this.

“You’ve never said that to me,” Shayne whispered, his voice unusually weak. No, not weak. Simply quiet, and gauging. As if he were trying to determine just how far this was going to go. “You don’t really… believe that, do you?”

“…No. No, I don’t, because other nobles would have killed me by now. Other nobles,” Damien leaned in close, the sickly sweet scent of mead rolling off of Shayne. It made Damien’s head spin. His whole life he’d had to put Shayne on a pedestal, just out of reach. He wanted to take. Just this once. “Other nobles wouldn’t let me do this.”

And he kissed him. Deep and wanting and claiming and all of the things he’d always wanted to say to Shayne but couldn’t because despite what Damien thought and said and wished for Shayne still was a noble and Damien the lowborn who had clawed his way to his position and would never be the sort of person Shayne deserved, had no right to have him pinned down beneath him, to be leading this dance the way he was. He had no right to be leading him at all. But gods and saints, did he want to. So damn badly, did he want to. And maybe Shayne would let him.

Because when Damien finally broke away, panting and flushed and he looked down to see Shayne in the same state, pulling gently against the Captain’s grip on his wrists and pleading with him to continue, Damien’s cock twitched, and he knew in that instant he was going to take this too far.

“Hush,” Damien ordered, sitting up and releasing Shayne’s wrists. “Don’t move.”

The blonde’s eyes widened but he nodded and kept his hands above his head, watching as Damien almost clumsily untied the silk sash he wore around his waist, the narrow slip of bright green and blue fabric bearing the colors of the Lord of the Seven Valleys and the mark of his role as Captain of the Guard. Without preamble Damien wrapped the soft sash around the Lordling’s wrists, binding them together. Shayne’s breathing grew heavier, his eyes lidded as he watched his friend work.

“I want-“ Shayne started but Damien’s hand flew to the other man’s mouth, covering it roughly.

“If we do this,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s how I say. It’s what I want. Do you agree?”

A look flashed in Shayne’s eyes and a more sober Damien would know that it was realization, followed closely by agreement and then unmitigated desire. Damien pulled his hand away for the blonde man to answer.

“For you, always.”

His answer had come so quickly that Damien blinked once, twice before he realized what his friend had said and another moment passed before he realized Shayne’s fingers were pressed against his length, straining against his leather riding trousers. It became abundantly clear that while Damien wanted to take, Shayne was prepared to give. A wicked smile bloomed across Damien’s face as he watched Shayne look up at him, his usual aloof neutrality replaced with nearly wanton desperation. Damien reached down and cupped Shayne’s jaw, tracing his thumb along his lower lip. Much to the silver-haired man’s surprise, Shayne took the digit into his mouth; a silent plea for more. Damien’s smile widened.

“That’s a good boy.”

[bowie-starss]

mungrove prompt. eddie and billy cuddling on a rainy night in the munson trailer watching a horror movie <3 🥺

Billy is just a wet cat of a man. A cat left in the rain and Eddie has the towels for him

Lately, Eddie found himself staying up later and later into the night with no sign of sleep. His record was 5 am before promptly passing out for an hour until his alarm went off.

It seemed Eddie wasn’t the only one struggling this way. 

The rain had started early that evening and only got worse as the night went on. It was pouring, drowning out the sound of a car pulling up to the Munson trailer. Eddie was startled out of his half-asleep daze on the couch by rapid knocking on the front door. Apparently, he was taking too long to answer because the knocking just would not let up.

Eddie clicked off the TV- he hadn’t been watching it anyway- and peaked out of the blinds for a hint at whoever could be at the door at this hour. 

A deep blue Chevy Camaro sat just in front of Eddie’s trailer, and there was only one person in Hawkins who owned a Camaro that color. There was only one person who owned a Camaro at all. 

Oh, Billy. 

Billy was no stranger to showing up at Eddie’s unannounced as they didn’t have a good way to communicate yet, but he typically didn’t do it at- what was it now? 2 a.m? Whatever it was, Billy was not the type to show up then.

Eddie opened the front door to exactly what he expected at this point: Billy drenched in rain water. How long had he been standing there while Eddie fought for sleep on the couch?

“You look ridiculous,” Eddie blurted as he pulled Billy inside. The blonde stayed uncharacteristically quiet. “Stay here.” As if Billy had any plans of moving. “I’ll get some towels. And clothes.” Eddie was gone for a blink, returning with an excessive amount of towels and a set of pajamas he knew Billy liked.

All of the items were set aside except for one towel Eddie wrapped around Billy. “Bad day, huh?” Eddie asked, smiling sadly. Billy didn’t need to respond verbally. He sighed and buried his face into the towel, and that was enough to describe his day. Eddie nodded. “Yeah, me too,” he said.

After being aggressively rubbed dry and changing in the living room, leaving him looking more or less like a stray cat, Billy was left to sort through Eddie’s movie collection while Eddie hung up the wet clothes in the bathroom. “Cool stuff, huh?” Eddie said as he returned to join Billy on the floor.

Billy wordlessly held up a tape. The Rats Are Coming! The Werewolves Are Here! Point taken. Billy set it aside. “Where do you even find these?”

Eddie shrugged. “When Family Video decides to clean out their shelves they sell all the old and weird stuff no one’s rented for dirt cheap. The other half of the collection is stuff my uncle picked up.” As Billy popped in a horror movie, Eddie asked, “I thought we were trying to sleep?”

“You can.” Billy backed off to the couch. “I’m not.”

That bad of a day that just going to bed was off the table.

Eddie decided not to argue with it. He found himself falling asleep to the weirdest things, so a slasher on screen didn’t matter. He joined Billy on the couch and opened his arms, letting Billy crawl into his spot in them. He dropped his full weight onto Eddie, making the other squeak, before tucking his head in just under Eddie’s chin. Eddie didn’t think the blonde could actually see the screen, but maybe that’s not what he wanted. Maybe he wanted the background noise. Weird choice, but Eddie couldn’t really judge, when he understood it.

Eddie’s hands combed through Billy’s still damp hair and tugged gently at the drier curls. “I guess you’re staying the whole night then, huh?” There was only a ‘mpfh’ from Eddie’s chest, and Eddie chuckled as if it meant something. It did, of course. “Alright, then. You know you’re welcome.”

[wordtotherose]

Hello! I've never done an ask before, but I love your Astarion and Tav writing so much, and wanted to ask for a kiss prompt of either 33 or 43 (:

Honoured to be your first! I've gone for 43 and it will be up on AO3 later but currently they're blocking posting requests. AO3 Link - Prompt List Here

***

Sparring is one of the first activities that they all manage to bond over. Not every day involves disposing of enemies and not everyone is there when the day's excursions do call for a fight. So, sparring.

Wyll is helping her evade spells mid-battle and to learn to use them against her attackers when his grip slips on his polearm and she gets smacked in the jaw with it. He apologises immediately, both of them falling out of their stances at once. She rubs at her chin and her fingers come away bloody, not surprising considering the taste in her mouth where she's split her lip impressively.

"It's fine, Wyll, don't worry. Let's call it there for the night."

She splashes water on her face to clean up and catches Astarion peering at her above the pages of one of his omnipresent books. She wanders over, stopping to pet Scratch on the way.

"Kiss goodnight?" She asks when she's standing in front of him.

"Retiring so early?"

"I just got my ass handed to me by Wyll, I think I'm entitled to a bit of extra rest."

"Then how could I say no?" He says, stepping forward to wrap an arm around her waist.

She threads her fingers into the softest curls at the nape of his neck and mutters her usual reply, "easily, I hope".

He always kisses her hard when they play out this routine and she's got enough of her own problems to have a good idea as to why her snark gets such a fierce reaction from him. The cut on her lip splits open again and his hands pull her impossibly closer as he swipes the blood away with his tongue. He pulls back far enough for her to catch her breath and she can feel his smirk against her own smug smile.

Send a 🎲 or a specific number from this list for a fic!

[madman479r]

Prompt request:

“Oh my.. you are a lot younger than I expected”(peter/felicia)

If you had told Felicia that tonight she'd be teaming up with her superhero crush Spider-man to take down some guy in an armoured rhino suit, she'd tie you up and send you to the looney bin herself.

But turns out reality can be kind at times because that's exactly what happened.

Now both costumed Vigilantes were up on a rooftop, panting as the fight really took a toll on them, trust the witty hero to use brain to beat brawn.

So that was witty, charming, strong, great body, greater ass and now smart added to the list.

Now if only she got to see under that mask of his.

Spider-man's voice broke her scheming. "Thanks for the help there, cat." He honestly didn't know if he could have taken Rhino down as quickly without the Cat thief's help.

'Opportunity' Cat said internally before speaking aloud. "No problem, spider. Can't lie, got my heart bumping like crazy, you really know how to show a girl a good time." Felicia purred and sent a wink at him.

Spider-man seemed flustered just by her tone of voice. "Y-yeah- I mean!- this isn't usually what I'd do with a girl- N-not that i do this with dozens of other girls! Y-you're my first. -I mean! Not f-first in THAT way- I uh..."

Black Cat couldn't stop the amused smile that graced her face, there was something adorable about how Spider-man could go up against 8 foot walking tanks and dish out quips like a stand up comedian yet still become a stuttering mess when talking to girls.

'Girls' there was something about that word that nearly made Felicia frown. She was no girl, she was a woman and she had the body to prove it. 'Time to show Spider how much of a woman I am.'

"So I helped you out then?" Cat started to walk closer to Spider-man, her hips swaying and despite the lenis of the mask covering his eyes, she could feel his eyes roaming her form and she relished in it.

As she neared him, Spider-man grew nervous, feeling like... well an actual spider being stalked by a cat.

"Maybe i deserve a reward for helping the hero." Cat licked her crimson lips.

Spider-man slowly backed up, but for every step he took it was like cat's long shapely legs took two strides forward. His spider sense wasn't going off yet he certainly felt in danger by that predatory look in her eyes.

Suddenly Spider-man felt himself walk into something hard and solid, I was the wall to the rooftop entrance, before he could curse his lack of environmental awareness, he felt something soft press against his front.

Two soft somethings. He looked up to see Black Cat's face inches from his. Cat the pressed her leg up against his crotch, making him choke on his words.

Felicia was loving this, her body alone was making her hero into a mess of hormones, she could feel his length against her lap and she was not disappointed.

"Wha-" Spider-man squeaked before clearing his throat. "Wh-what kind of r-reward?" He asked.

Black Cat closed in, Spider-man could feel her hot breath against his lips even through the mask. "Well." She started, her voice filled with want and desire. "What woman doesn't wanna kiss her super hero crush?"

Despite the confident outward appearance, inside Felicia felt her own heart racing, she was flush against Spider-man, the who saved her life all those years ago, stopping a car from ramming into the bus she was on and was about to kiss him. There was no question about it because what Black Cat wanted, she took it.

Her fingers reached for his mask, feeling the edge of the separate cloth and started to roll it upwards. He didn't try to stop her, telling her that he wanted this just as badly, wanted her just as badly.

It didn't matter that she was grinding against him, his own leg was against her crotch and she was loving the feel of it.

The mask was now rolled over his mouth, those sweet lips she wanted to cover with her own.

In the back of her mind she noted the lack of facial hair, that was a plus in her eyes. Besides the mask was skin tight, having little hairs poke out the mask would probably make him look ridiculous and would probably be uncomfortable.

Now it was over his nose and she stopped, taking a second to admire the strong jaw line and flawless skin.

Felicia licked her lips again, getting them ready for what was about to happen. "Pucker up, Spider."

She then crashed her lips against Spider-man's, muffling the shocked gasp he gave and moaned into his mouth.

This wasnt Peter's first kiss, but with Black Cat this was different, it was wild, full of passion and desire, this was beyond anything he'd ever felt before. The smooth lips of the thief felt so warm and soft on his and when she started to suck his lower lip he gave a deep groan that reverberated through his throat.

Black Cat pulled away to breath and took a second to just admire the blissed out expression Spider-man had, before she pushed her body even closer to his, her breasts against his chest and her leg pressed harder against his groin, his length giving a twitch under the pressure. They fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces, and she gave a long drawn out purr as she moved to kiss his cheek, then his jaw and finally down the neck, leaving a wet trail.

Spider-man gasped, her tongue licking his neck sending a thrill up his spine and his own length giving another twitch. "Ahh...Cat..." He groaned, wanting her to keep going.

Felicia gave a chuckle, giving a soft bite on his jugular before pulling away to face him. She wanted to see him, all of him. So that means the mask had to go.

She grabbed both edges of his mask and pulled up in one swift movement.

When she saw Spider-man's face, her heart skipped a beat, even with the mask off, her mind told her that he looked nothing like she imagined.

He wasn't what she expected, before she had met the hero, she had imagined some old rugged man with scars, maybe a few age spots, or at least a man who looked like he was in his thirties or early forties.

Then after meeting her hero and hearing him speak, she expected someone in his twenties, around her age. Instead the man underneath the mask was a teenager, a handsome one at that but still a teenager.

Felicia couldn't help herself. "Oh my... you are... younger than I expected."

Spider-man ducked his face away from Black Cat, an embarrassed and angry blush on his face. "Im 17! But Let me guess, I'm just some kid, right?"

Her eyes drank in every feature, she saw the smooth skin and the boyish face that made her heart beat just a tad bit faster and the hazel eyes that held so much life, he was strong jawed with perfect white teeth and thin lips that made her want to feel them against hers again.

All in all he was perfect. He was young, fit, strong, smart, funny, sexy and the body to match it all.

Felicia wanted to taste more of that body.

The cat themed thief brought up a hand to the teens cheek and gently pulled it towards her, so he was facing her. "That's not what I meant... it just kind of surprised me, that's all. Just thought you'd be older. But you were dusted, meaning we were actually the same age before the blip. Plus, seeing your true face, let me tell you..." She licked her lips. "...I'm even more impressed. You're perfect, sweetie."

Peter blushed even harder, his hands coming up to grab her shoulders. "W-what?" He couldn't help but stutter at her words, those words coming from that sexy and very beautiful voice of hers, was enough to make him forget the previous embarrassment.

Felicia chuckled at how flustered the teen was getting, giving a light peck on his lips before answering. "You're perfect, Spider-man." She kissed him again. "So much better than I imagined." She kissed him once more and this time Peter reciprocated, eager to taste more of those soft lips.

They stood like that for a few minutes, tasting each others mouths, both were breathing hard, with Black Cat starting to grind against him again, causing him to gasp out.

She smiled as she pulled away and kissed the hero on the cheek. "If we keep going like this, I think I'm gonna make a mess of your suit." She told him, letting a hand rest against his crotch, rubbing against his covered length and she gave a chuckle at the hardness she felt through the material.

Spider-man's eyes widened, his hand covering hers as he tried to get his body under control. "C-cat..." He panted.

Felicia giggled at him, her finger tracing the outline of the teens covered erection. "Oh my poor sweetie, I can make it better for you." Cat cooed with a smirk. "So the most important question is..." Felicia then leaned into Spider-man's ear and whispered. "Your place or mine?"

[luniluvia]

A kiss that starts to heat up when a third party interrupts, please 🫣

Sugar, spice and bittersweet

- Kissing prompt

It had started slowly, timidly even, in the tumult of the Elfsong Tavern.

A few discreet glances and sweet words later, Luvia took the object of her interest - a human - to a bedroom she has rented, far away from the crowd and prying eyes.

There was no one but them here, facing each other with longing and lit by the moonlight piercing through the window. It looks almost romantic...

They exchanged frivolities for a few minutes before their lips met in a tender embrace, moving in a slow and almost sensual rhythm as the music resonated from the main room downstairs. Luvia wanted to relax from her exhausting day and the alcohol helped a lot. She liked this closeness...

As they melted in the kiss, the young woman felt her heart racing and her blood boiling. Instinctively, her tongue brushed against their lips teasingly, seeking for entrance. She wanted to taste more of him.

He didn't waste any second to let her in, succombing to her charms, submitting to her desire. He let her touch him as she wanted and explore his form, while he brought a hand to her hip, and the other one to her face to feel the softness of her porcelain skin.

He shivered as the Dracanist grew more demanding. She pushed him on the bed and climbed over him, pinning him to the mattress just like a butterfly caught in a spider web. She captured his lips again, hungrily this time, her delicate and skilled fingers working on the buttons of his shirt.

Suddenly, she perceived an orange glow through her closed eyelids. She opened an eye and noticed a flaming scroll floating above them.

"Damnit... Not now", she thought, slapping the vision to make it vanish. But the persistent thing kept coming back.

"Is... Is everything alright, my dear?" The human asked, a bit confused.

"Yeah yeah, it's alright" she answered quickly, giving one last swipe through the parchment.

But the damn thing appeared again a few minutes later, but it wasn't alone this time... The man under Luvia screamed when he saw a devilish silhouette behind her, standing in the middle of the room. She turned her head to have a better look at the intruder. A client...

"I need to talk to you", the latter said as he snapped their clawed fingers, making the poor guy disappear without further ado. The Huntress toppled over as a space had just been created between her and the bed.

"What the...!"

"It cannot wait", the devil said, showing the contract once again...

She jumped on her feet, a fierce look on her face.

"Oh please, don't look at me like that..."

[neoma-eltanin]

🤕 = Has your character obtained any unique or important injuries/scars, what are they and what are they from? | 🏰 = Does your character feel any connection with the land/country they were born in, what sort of connection? | -your choice of muse!

The small, lithe woman nodded, contemplating her response for a short moment before she opted to answer. "It is to be expected when leading a life as an adventurer. There will be conflicts, and... you will not always emerge from those unscathed. Most of my wounds have been tended to quickly, and have therefore not caused any prominent lasting marks..."

She paused, averting her gaze slightly with a sombre expression as she recalled old memories. "I have... one, however, that is quite noticeable. I received it when I was still a fairly new adventurer, when me and... Dusk encountered bandits." Her right hand lifted to rub her left arm at the unpleasant memories. "I was careless, and... A thaumaturge struck me in the back. With lightning. The strike was so powerful that it... even stopped my heart. Everything just went... dark."

She had to pause, remaining silent as her memories of that day came flooding back. "... Next thing I knew, I woke up in Dusk's arms. He was crying. Somehow, he had... brought me back. He... saved my life." Slowly, a small smile formed on her lips, yet the sadness never quite left her eyes. "... I was so proud of him that day."

The scar is located on Neoma's lower back, a reminder of the lighting magic that struck her on that fateful day. It is shaped like a snowflake, with fern-like patterns extending from a center point.

( Dusk Hydrae belongs to @ffxivtribehydrae )

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

The second question seems to brighten Neoma's mood, and she nods with a warm smile. "Of course, Yanxia will always have a dear place in my heart. I was raised there, and I still have family in those lands. Me and my brother may have had to grow up under opression, and life was often hard because of it... But we were always surrounded by love. No matter the struggles we had to face, we took care of each other." She paused to reminisce in the treasured moments of her childhood.

"The village was nearly destroyed during the rebellion, as was much of the region... But they have rebuilt their lives, and they flourish. To know they are finally free... It fills me with such joy. Yanxia is such a beautiful land... No matter where I go in the world, I know I will always have a home there."

Fantasy Character Development

[kittynannygaming]

I want to adopt them all, even Shane.

Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

[dsmp-for-kink]

@ prev prompt rec "petplay c!drunz with dom dream and pet sub punz" there's a fanfic like that it's called puppy playtime by conscientiousmonster on ao3

!

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Do you think people who are virgin should write smut? I feel like most of them don’t even know what they’re writing and just write what they think sex is

the implication this ask suggests that people who write about murders, cannibalism, politics, magic, royalty au, sci-fi, wars, supernatural, time travel, medieval era, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins must be murderers, cannibals, presidents, wizards, royalties, astronauts, ghost hunters, soldiers, time travelers, knights, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins in real life is so funny to me

[hakongin]

Your mystery questions are here!

💧 What is something that makes your character cry?

🛡What is your characters strongest conviction/belief?

Thank you for sending these in! I really appreciate it. <3 I’ll answer with Gen since he’s been on my mind lately.

💧He’ll always cry when a member of his community passes. It doesn’t matter how significant or insignificant they may have been, he’ll always grieve them. Because of the manner that TCs pass (a very not great experience) he tends to take personal responsibility for it even if he had nothing to do with it. He’s never in denial of his feelings but may hold back crying until he has a minute to himself though. He doesn’t want to appear vulnerable in front of the people he feels he has to be strong for (the problem with being a community/paramilitary leader orz) 🛡That all TCs are innocent, can do no wrong, and are victims of the circumstances they are caught in. This makes him overly forgiving to the ones he rescues that could become liabilities (and yes the plot has this bite him in the ass several times, including a severe one near the end that really wrecks him).

[hakongin]

Finally got to finishing this one.

What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

System default, sometimes Calibri, and sometimes Courier New. I’m basic.

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Editing would be a lot harder for me but it would be possible. It’d just take longer and there would be a lot more spelling mistakes since when I write fast on paper, I skip letters lol

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

It’s cursed because it’s inconsistent. I just sit somewhere and go at it blindly, swinging into the night.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Good Feral: substantiate, cleave, resounding

Bad Feral: X Colour-haired/eyed + using male or female to describe a person (eg. Green-eyed male). Please don’t do this. The characters you write are so much more than being dehumanizing monikers and a single crayon colour lmao. The only way I will not immediately close your story tab and leave to read something less annoying is if you were writing through the eyes of a robot that has no other ways of understanding the world around them.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

My superstition is JUST DO IT. You are your only limit to success.

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

That I’m misinterpreted or that I’m actually just bad at it all along

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

When the cute/awesome/neat stuff happens.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

I’d love writing a story without dialogue that focuses entirely on setting up and executing a scene with atmosphere. Remember I really like Steinbeck novels lmao

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

Yes, although the ones we get on YouTube and whatever are fake.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

By haunted I hope this means I think about a lot. There’s been lots that have. Herman Melville and Markus Zusak live rent free in this house. There’s been one fic I wrote that I come back to when I think about what I want to convey in the world. It just means I want to come back to expressing certain ideas/themes because they’re ideas/themes that are important to me. There was also a fic that got me interested in writing, but it’s been lost to the internet since it’s at least 20 years old by now.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

Not necessarily. I find that my darlings I want to keep around because then I get to torture them some more. Rather, I murder my darlings’ friends and family :P Murder is so quick and easy- it’s so much worse to live with guilt for the rest of your life.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

Focus to finish.

Clarity in voice.

Great sequences.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Everything’s hard :P. I don’t find anything particularly harder to write than others, it’s more about what I know and what I don’t. If somebody asked me to write something about a character I don’t know I’d have a terrible time with it until I learned about them.

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

There are two copies of the Suikoden III manga I had that somebody else has, much to my infinite dismay. I won’t get them back.

I also have a copy of a book somebody gave me that I didn’t return, and now we’re not talking anymore lol.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

In workhorse copies, I dog ear pages, read with food in front of me, etc. I’ve highlighted old textbooks with zero shame (hooray buying most of your textbooks used).

However, if I buy a “nice copy” of a book, eg. One of those expensive hardcover collector’s editions kinda affairs, I don’t let anybody touch. A cheap softcover is a workhorse copy, and if I’m buying a sexy hardcover it’s because I’ve read it before and enjoyed it.

I don’t judge anyone on their habits if I can help it. It’s their property!

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

Hotel keypass? Receipt paper? Shoelaces? Idk my choices are pretty tame.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I’m stuck working on a terribly worded and long-winded timeline to help organize events. It’s as detailed as I need it to be to just extract as much of the junk rolling around in my head and slamming it onto page. I don’t show it to anyone publicly though.

The other thing that I have on the docket is a spicier glimpse into an OC scenario. There’s no actual room for something like it in the narrative as it stands, but it’s nice to think about.

I also have a fic I drafted for my friend’s birthday that desperately needs a couple more context scenes to make it fuller and a couple rewrites. It needs distilling XD

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Passage:

Her unease from being watched gradually slipped away, replaced with the faint scent of his last cigarette and the sensation of his words falling down the length of her neck.

“It’s a pretty easy one, if you know what you’re looking for.”

I wanted to write something sexy without the actual sex stuff happening yet. Just an exercise in tension and all that.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I don’t have an exact time when I started. I was young, and I’m pretty sure it was for an elementary school project. I found my voice a fair bit later in my mid-teens (as many do) reading and writing bad fan fiction. There’s always been bumps as there is with anything. After an extended mania period where I wrote a couple hundred thousand words worth of content, I dried up for about 2.5-3 years. Rough time, but I’m working through it.

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

Eternal happiness. Because being happy means you have the safety and motivation to finish a WIP to whatever level you want it to be. Journey, not destination. :P

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

That 3ish year stint made me think I really had. But, it came back eventually. Thinking about stuff/postulating theories and all that is how a person understands the world. Despite not being well I never stopped thinking and wondering, and eventually that thinking got me to making stuff again.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

I’m fairly organized with planning notes and i like to think I’m meticulous when it comes to organizing scenes.

When it comes to actually writing them down somewhere though, I am not organized at all. I’ve used any of the following to Get Shit Down: My phone (apps), my computer, taking pictures from notebooks I scribble on, taking pictures from post-it notes, carrying said post-it notes or notebook scraps around, backs of receipts, my hand(s) and at least one time I wrote on a plastic bus ticket and a napkin.

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I write in two places.

In bed. I’ve varied from pulling the blankets up over my lap or just balancing my laptop or notebook on my legs while writing/editing. Most of the time it’s early in the day or in the dead of night. If I’m writing in the day I open the blinds to my right or I have them half open, and the colour from the curtains changes the tint of the light that comes in. At night, I’ll usually hear the overnight freight trains or cluttering/pattering from people on their commutes home or just staggering in. Sometimes I’ve heard groundskeepers drag their wheelbarrows, and they almost never are gentle when they pull it down the stairs by my window. My room has an overcrowded bookshelf because I’ve run out of space or haven’t gotten rid of the materials I don’t read as much or anymore; it’s well dusted and clean, but the shelves themselves are worn and have been banged up from whacking against walls or just getting hit on the bottom edges from the head of a vacuum cleaner.

At my desk. I have a kitchen chair I dragged out to the office because I can’t afford an office chair yet. It’s uncomfortable to sit in but I compensate by routinely standing if it means to stretch my legs every hour or two. The desk is too small to fit two people adequately but I make do by crunching up my body as much as possible to not take up space. The desk itself is a cheap knockoff of a more known brand that I bought off a discount website, and while it isn’t glamorous by any stretch of the definition and is way too hard to rest your elbows on because of its material, it serves its purpose. I don’t always have a drink next to me when I write here, but if I do it’s usually tea or water. I tend to sit here when it’s earlier in the day, just after breakfast and the sun has probably risen. If I’m here when the sun has already set, the lighting in the rest of the room is still not bright enough and I haven’t located a suitable desk lamp yet, so often the glow of the screens compensates and makes my eyes hurt.

24.How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

Prep? Do you mean writing outlines, storyboards, the like? I do lots of prep then. For any piece, short or long, I want to figure out what I want to express and roughly how I want to express it. This can come in a key phrase or keywords to theme the scene(s) around, or some kind of main motif I want to stick to. For longer projects I like to outline at least the order of scenes and a rough idea of how a scene begins and ends before transitioning to the next. Some side research might have to be done just to figure out the mechanics of how something actually works, especially if I can’t theorize it on my own. I really enjoy planning and doing research. Drafting I struggle with, but for establishing and building a narrative I have a great time doing this kind of work.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

I have no place to fit any of this in that isn’t a 3 second shitpost:

Raine really loves chickens and has a pet chicken.

Takumi is afraid of dogs.

Gen practices speaking in the mirror even though he hates looking at his own reflection.

Dwayne is actually really good at riding horses and ranching.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

I never regret writing disturbing material, although there might be times I need to take a breather to not dwell on it for too long. Knowing me though, I have a hard time letting go so it can sometimes take several days unless something else knocks me out of it.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

So once upon a time I wrote Castlevania hcs on this website. The experience and IRL events wrecked me so hard I can't enjoy it on its own yet. I'm hopeful I will, someday, but it's definitely not now.

For characters that are mine that stress me out, tbh none of them really do? There's ones I know less, but that just means I need to work on them.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

I’m fond of writing my two hyperfixations Raine and Dwayne. They're a good culmination of all the things I've enjoyed about other OCs in my library.

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

Media: Movies, Books, Video Games, Music. Life events. Stuff I’m preoccupied with. Current events. The exact thing I could be drawing from can and has varied. When I run dry in one direction, I start foraging in another. Am I running out of steam writing about the real estate crisis? Ok, time to look into atomic energy instead. Or space ships. Or Breaking Bad. :P

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

I’ve had dreams that I write down if they were particularly interesting. I’ve taken some imagery if I can clearly remember it to see if that’s something I may want to develop more. It doesn’t really impact anything I’m doing all that much though, all things considered.

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

Do you read my stuff? Wow thanks. I’d appreciate it if you let me know if you liked it or not. And why, if that’s ok. I’m always up for learning more and feedback is good. Have a good day.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I had to double check on this one because the novel itself has so many solid bangers, but this one from The Book Thief rocks:

“A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.”

It’s terrifying and true and I can’t tear my eyes away from it. I love that Death in the story carries this soft, solemn energy in everything he says. He’s seen it all (tm).

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

I draw and do photography. I’m a very visual person so that always takes precedent before dialogue in my writing. I like setting the scene/framing a picture/building composition, etc.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

I prefer using it for the end of a list as it shows what is directly related to each item. If you combine the last two it could be interpreted as the last two items being counted as one unit. Could.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

I actually enjoy Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules for Writing lol

One of those rules is to avoid using adverbs to modify “said” when writing dialogue. I get why he’d say it, I just personally don’t believe in that one completely. Like don’t go overboard with adverbs only since you start losing track of what you actually want to say, but otherwise go nuts. Make it yours. Give your sentences flavour.

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

I know enough about Diamond Hands that it causes me physical pain to hodl this information

I also know a decent amount about weaponry. The thing is though is that I am smart enough to know that I do not know everything about any subject whatsoever.

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

“this guy really loves swords, women that can bench press a car, unhinged dirges on the decline of Americana, and space monsters” - a future historian, probably

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I can and have storyboarded a scene if I’m having problems drafting.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

If I’m unable to paint a picture, I’ve only got words left to use.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

From ‘As I look Back’ by Jim Morrison:

After 4 yrs. I’m left w/ a

mind like a fuzzy hammer

Milton’s youth—

will I get a

chance to write my Paradise Lost

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.