#Anyhow- now that I’ve said my piece:

[ebonytails]

While I know that I didn’t promise to make Disability Zebra right away, I still feel bad about not having been able to design it yet. But I do think about it everyday, and even if I’m not able to make it in time before Disability Pride Month ends, I’ll still make it and show my progress. It’s important to me to try and figure out this design than other pride flags at the moment, I’ve been feeling. So thank you for the ideas back when I asked them, and thank you for your patience :)

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[user211201]

Ape boy

--- Originally posted on 2017-01-10 on realhankmccoy ---

“Just don’t make me dumb, man, I want to keep everything about my mind totally intact,” I told my friend at the lab.

I was totally willing to go through the procedure but I didn’t want it messing with my intellect any – my job and lifestyle were too important to me.

They promised me a whole new masculine experience, that they could bring out the man in me in ways that were easily accessible through epigenetic therapy.

I’d be fitter, more energetic, more attractive and just altogether healthier. It was in the beta testing process and they said they’d throw in $3000 if I signed off, too. I’d only need to take a few weeks off work for an outpatient trial.

“That didn’t seem so bad,” I said after the doctor finished up removing the slow drip from my arm and the infusion was complete. Took two different bags of fluid but I mostly felt fine, if a little faint at first.

I got home and realized I was pretty tired so I stripped down and went to bed. I started noticing the changes the next day already. I did have more energy. My face seemed handsomer, just a tad. After two days I was feeling pretty into this.

It was the third day when I started noticing that I was getting beefier.

That was cool, I thought, but then I noticed I was feeling hornier, too. I ignored it at first, but by the end of the day I was jacking off in my bedroom, hard. I got up off my bed, still stroking my dick, to check myself out in the mirror.

“Looks hot,” I thought, stroking it slowly. If this stuff made my sex drive a little stronger, that was fine with me.

I started getting obsessed with checkin’ out the changes in the mirror, and I had so much energy that I started working out. I’d be doing pushups on my hardwood floor and getting excited over how I was going to flex in front of the bathroom mirror after I finished a set of 50.

I went back to the lab and they didn’t seem to think it was a problem.

So I figured, what the hell, I might as well enjoy this. Pretty soon I was hanging out in just my underwear all the time. That didn’t make me dumb, I knew, it just felt good. I might as well get into it, I figured.

Only problem is I got used to it pretty quick. I hate wearing clothes now, dudes.

I looked in the mirror one day and I just looked so fucking good with these thick pecs and the thicker stubble on my face. I figured I should have fun with a haircut so I got kind of a high and tight, cut real short though, and that just turned me on. Even my facial structure has changed from this shit they’re doing to me. My ears look like they stick out more, like some dumb ape or something, and that just makes me hard. I’ve hot this thick abdomen and these beefy deltoids. I feel like I look more like a football dude, even, and I started watching football even. Might as well have fun while I’m stuck in outpatient anyhow.

They told me it wouldn’t alter my mind any but it’s like I’m addicted to working out, flexing in the mirror, taking selfies, hooking up – with dudes – I just find em on my phone. I stopped reading. I look at these hairy legs and I get hard just touching em, I rub a hand across my pecs and my nipples are hard right away and I feel my cock jump up wanting a piece of the action. All I can think about is my goddamn cock, man.

So I took another week off work because I’m not ready to go back, and told myself on Monday I’d start getting ready to get my life on track. I just procrastinated the whole day, jacking off in bed, mostly, slowly stroking it. I guess my new bod’s so awesome that it’s just depressing to think of going back to the office.

My alarm goes off on Tuesday, and I throw it against the wall and say fuck it. One more day of fun’s not gonna hurt. Dudes, I look so fucking good. At least I’ll be productive today, I tell myself. So I start off the day with a ton of pushups, make myself a protein shake, and I look so ripped in the mirror that I figure I’ll score myself a hookup off Grindr. Guy comes over, and his hairy, hard pecs crushed against mine – my rubbing the short beard I’ve got started all up on his asshole, and that turns him on enough that he’s letting me lift his legs and plow the shit out of him..

After he’s gone, I’m back in front of the mirror saying “you fucking stud. Yeah you fuckin’ ape boy. Fuckin’ just want to fuck with dudes, don’t you, gay boy. Yeah you jocked up fuck. Just want to get naked and fuck, don’t you?”

Still hard, still horny, so just stroking my dick slowly while I put the game on for ambience. I don’t know how Thursday’s gonna shake out but today I just went out and bought a basketball hoop for the driveway so I could burn off some of this energy. Felt fuckin’ great, too, goin’ out in the sun in just some shorts and Nikes working on my game. Soon as I was back indoors though, man, just stripped back down to my underwear – I can’t stop admiring this body. Gotta get another dude over here to mess around with. Fuck work, man, you only live once, right?

Think I’m gonna pick up a big screen for the bedroom because that’d be pretty cool, and I just found out gay dues have their own hockey leagues you can join so I’m thinking of that. How hot would that be – those dudes are fuckin’ built, man, and I could pick it up pretty quick I bet.

Fuck, let me know if – oh, fuck it, I’m gonna order a pizza and see if I can find a hot hookup for tonight. Some dude with pecs as thick as mine and who’s like me slapping this cock all over his tongue for a couple of hours while I tease the shit out of his hot jock ass. Yeah man. Fuckin’ hot, man, I could pump a full load into some dude’s muscle butt and be ready to score again two hours later. That’s how good I feel. Friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it as long as it’s none of that lovey-dovey or dramatic shit – I’ve got em on the phone. Sex, muscle, good food and workin’ out, so glad I met those lab rats.

[tmntxthings]

Hey, I hope this request motivates you a bit! I was wondering if you could do little scenarios with the Rise boys reacting to accidentally hitting their S/O while they stretched?

You know that thing that happens when you're standing too close to someone and they move or do something and end up hitting you in the face, it happened to me at college sobs 😭

Have a lovely day! <3

一∑ Accidents Happen・゜・。

author’s note: sksksks sure sure, I wanna say this has happened to me too but I can’t recall a specific scenario which makes me think it has happened just I’ve obliterated it from my memory out of embarrassment?!?

note 2.0: so I did Raph’s first, forever ago and a bit of Leo’s then just now I did Donnie’s and Mikey’s, everyone’s is a bit different and it’s like 3am idk how to feel! BUT WE POST ANYWAYS

warnings: cursing, injuries caused by accident, attempts at humor, crack, fluff, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph was super excited to help you learn self-defense! It was a great skill to have. Just in case ya know! Plus it would make you feel more confident too.

“First things first! We gotta loosen up, I usually start with arm stretches.” Raph said with a toothy grin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He loved being able to hang out with you, but you had asked him personally to train you for self defense. Not any of his brothers! He was honored and didn’t want to mess up!

Raph then grabbed his left elbow and started to pull it, making the muscles there taunt. You immediately started to copy him. Asking if your form was right which had Raph moving closer and correcting you just slightly. “Just like that! Now other side!” And when Raph went through with the motion of doing his other arm, it was too late.

The smack resounded throughout the weight room and if things couldn’t be anymore horrible, because of his stature, he had quite literally smacked your face.

Stunned you held your cheek. It stung. And Raph was a ball of tears instantly. “Oh— Y/n!!!! Are you okay??? I’m so sorry!!! I didn’t mean to, I should’ve backed up!! I got too close and— Raph’s so so sorry.” He was on his knees in front of you. Telling you to smack his face in return. And you just laughed, saying that it was okay.

“Once I learn these self defense moves you won’t be able to land a hit like that again!” You joked.

Raph could only whimper. He felt horrible. He was a horrible teacher! And it took some convincing from you to get the ball rolling again. He sniffled here and there because he just couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was hard on himself for sure. Even though it was an accident he wouldn’t forgive himself!!

Leo was prone to doing weird shit randomly. Like striking a pose anywhere, anytime he saw fit. So while sure I could totally come up with a prompt for stretching like I did with Raph…but in my head…more realistically… it would be because Leo was up to his regular shenanigans again!

He had texted you not that long ago that he was planning on portal-ing over! It was a common occurrence, it made for traveling back and forth to the lair fast. If only the side effects wouldn’t hit you like that one ride at the fair, the Spaceship 9000?? The one that spins, and spins, and spins so fast that the piece of metal your buckled into moves up and down??? Right?? I’ve only went on it once so this is like a very bad descriptor but hopefully someone knows what the heck I’m talking about.

Going through a Leo portal was like that. The feeling of getting spun around so much that your stomach didn’t feel like it was in your body anymore. More like it was splattered all over the ground. Or three miles back in the direction from which you came. You wondered absentmindedly if all portals were like that. Or if that was just because of Leo?

Anyhow, it had been a while since he had sent you that message. You were used to him coming instantly after sending the message. Really not even giving you enough time to read the damn text! You sighed and got up from your bed and headed to the living room where he would be portal-ing in. But instead of going to the couch, you wanted to try and guess where the fool would land. Maybe closer to the actual door, as if he had used it to begin with?

It was while you were thinking, that a blue portal opened above head not but mere inches to the left of you. There had been no whirring or whizzing noises. No “Geronimo!!” Or “Heads up!” call outs. It was ninja silent stealth mode at which Leo came in. Eyes closed, and once he was through, only then did he holler, “And he sticks the landi—“

A loud thwack could be heard as one of his hands collided into you as he did a ridiculous windmill motion with his arms to steady himself. And it hurt like hell where he had slapped your arm. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiittttt!” The force had knocked you a little ways away too! As you held your arm where it stung and closed your eyes to not start crying, and then your mouth to not start yelling.

“Y/n???” Leo opened his eyes and shook the hand that had hit your arm. “My bad! You’re usually in your room when I come, and I just— I don’t know!” He rambled, a nervous smile on his face as he watched you close up.

Silence. Breathing. That was all that could be heard. Leo started feeling really guilty. He hadn’t been holding back his strength because he was an idiot and didn’t know you were there. “I’m really sorry..” he murmured. Not coming in close because he didn’t want to anger you further.

“It’s..cool!” You shook your arm, eyes opening and god damn it they were watery. “Oh no it’s not. Let me get you some ice. Fuck. I’m really really sorry.” Leo springs into action at the sight of your unshed tears. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” You tried to console him but didn’t deny the need for ice. Relief was felt when the ice pack met your skin. “Still wanna come over?” He asked timidly, wondering if he had ruined today in general too. “Duh, I’m going to be fine Leo! How about we stop for ice cream, on you and then it’s all even mkay?”

Because you knew if you didn’t say this then he would just continue to hold onto the guilt despite all your words and reassurances. “One waffle cone coming up!!” Leo cheered, his dramatics back on as he twirled a sword to make another flashy portal, you could only hope you would survive the journey.

Donnie has a stick. “Technically Y/n, it’s a bo. Bo staff. Not a stick.” Your eyes narrowed in on his weapon of choice. “Looks like a metal stick to me.” You told him plainly. He huffed. He knew that his weapon wasn’t always the one to wow people away. It wasn’t flashy like some people *cough* *cough* leo *cough*. “Okay I lied, it’s not just a bo, it’s a tech bo!” Donnie emphasized, spinning the said weapon around between his fingers before making it land on the ground vertically. Before you could question further he clicked a very inconspicuous spot on the bo, which was basically a finger-print reader that took half a millisecond to expand out and show off a variety of other weapons attached to his bo.

A saw, a drill, and the list could go on but those were the main two you recognized before it contracted back into stick form as you liked to call it. “Nice,” you nodded, giving Donnie his props where they were due, because it was pretty cool. It was like a multi-tool. You said that aloud too.

“Yeah but way better cause I made it.” Donnie amended because he couldn’t allow himself to be compared to such everyday items. He was better. Much better.

You opened your palm out, “can I try?” Insinuating you wanted a go at holding his stick. Well, his tech bo. But he made you spell it out for him. “Try what exactly?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. “Holding the stick” “It’s not a stick.” “Okay okay, can I try to hold the tech stick?” “Maybe, if you say it properly and also realize that you are most definitely going to hurt yourself with my tech bo.”

You made a face at that. “I most certainly am not!” You retorted and made a grab for the tEcH bO. It was out of your reach before you could even get close. And this game of keep away continued until you, asked with a “pretty please can I hold your almighty tech bo!?” Donnie was satisfied, clearly, with a smug look on his face as he allowed you to snatch it away from his hold. Finally.

You turned it around in your hands. Making slow circles. Donnie immediately trying to coach you on a better method, “Your feet aren’t in the right position~!” He chirped happily, as if correcting you was an absolute pleasure. He continued to badger you, despite your genuine efforts to improve. And at one point it all became too much, like he was being haughty. Holding it over your head that you weren’t catching on quickly.

“I get it Donnie! I suck!” You yelled and brought the metal bo down sharply. Right on your toes. You did have socks on. But the thin material did nothing to prevent the instant pain that had you crumpling down, bo falling out of your hand to instead cradle your injured foot.

It was embarrassing. The loud clatter of the bo hitting the ground, the rush of Donnie coming in close, kneeling to try and analyze the damage. You were so angry and so embarrassed that despite the pain, you pushed him away. Sniffling and whimpering, “Leave me alone!” You cried. And yep you were crying. Rocking back and forth now on your butt in an attempt to somehow ease the pain that was flowing from your toes, through your foot, all the way up to your ankle. Had you broken something?!?

Of course you hadn’t pushed him far, nor hard enough to knock him down. But he felt horrible. He felt like he was the reason this had all happened in the first place. Egging you on and messing with your head, truly being a bit of a jerk. “Just let me look please? It may be broken Y/n, it’s..high grade titanium…” he muttered the last bit because he was in no way trying to show that off in this moment. And the look in your eyes when you finally met his concerned stare was heartbreaking. He saw how red and puffy they were from the agitated tears, your cheeks ruddy as well. “Please?” He tried again. Coming in close hands up and out as a show of meaning no harm.

Slowly, your hand came away from your own toes, and Donnie peeled off your sock and assessed the injury. Light touches here and there and profusely apologized when you hissed in pain. “It’s not broken! Just bruised, pretty badly, I’ll go get some ice and then some wraps, just stay right there, don’t move!” And he was off moving swiftly as went in search for the items he required.

He gave you the ice, letting you decide how much pressure to put on the wound, and he stayed silent as he got out a few different wraps. As your tears dried and the sniffling ceased, you noticed how serious Donnie looked. When he came back down to kneel by your foot, he decided to checkup the entire area. “What about this, does this hurt?” He asked pressing lightly on a different part on the top of your foot. “Not really, it’s all getting kind of numb now,” the ice was doing its magic. He nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I should wrap it now,” he said but made no move to start until you gave him the go ahead.

He was very careful. Taking all the time in the world to make sure the wrapping was perfect. When he finished he sighed, and looked up at you sincerely, “I’m sorry for being such an ass… you were doing really well but I just kept..” he sighed again shaking his head as it dropped. Looking back down at your wrapped foot. “Dee.. we like to get in each other’s nerves, you just did a really great job this time around,” you admitted with a slight laugh. But he only smiled weakly, still feeling so guilty. You huffed and shoved at his shoulder lightly, “hey, honestly I think it was your bo getting back at me for calling it a stick so many times!”

He couldn’t help but smile at that one. If only a little. “How about this? You grovel for the rest of the day, andddd order my favorite pizza?” He was quiet, thinking. “How about I just get the pizza?” Finally looking up and looking a bit better, “I don’t knowwww…” and the two of you were going back and forth once more, laughing it off.

Mikey, bless his heart, was having a fabulous time when it came to your yoga sessions. You had gotten into it and dragged the brothers into your new hobby. But the only brother who truly stuck with it was Mikey. Of course this should’ve been a no brainer, what with his acrobatic skills when it came to soaring into the air, from building to building.

So it wasn’t odd that the two of you were together in the gym alone at the lair. Sometimes he’d come over to your flat and the two of you would yoga in the only big room you had (the living room). But most times it was more convenient to do it in a space that was created with exercise in mind. After getting nice and warmed up, talking about each others day and updating one another on any tea it was time to get down to business.

“What’s on the roster today??” Mikey asked already bouncing lightly back and forth. Pumped to do anything when it came to hanging out with you. “Ahhh let’s see!” All the gossip had left your brain clueless to the new yoga you had learned recently so you needed to open up your phone and check your notes really quickly.

Mikey (ever the busybody) came in close, going up on his tippy toes to peer at your screen. Your elbow went out playfully, hitting him in the side plastron. He feigned injury, staggering back clutching where you had touched. “Betrayal!” He fake coughed. “And I thought Leo was the dramatic one!” You teased further.

At this both hands moved to cover his heart. “Take that back!!” He gasped though he could hardly hide his pleased smile. “And if I don’t??” You countered, forgetting about the phone as the screen turned black under inactivity. “Then I’ll make you!” Mikey’s face turned downright villainous (as much as a cutie patootie can), hands up and fingers at the ready to tickle you into submission.

Immediately you were fleeing. You were no stranger to Mikey’s tickling in fact the last time you had been caught in his clutches you were begging for mercy. You almost gave in right then and there at the memory but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this time you could get away.

Fool. What a foolish thought.

You were a yoga hobbyist. Mikey was a fucking ninja! The odds would never be in your favor, but he did let you think you had a chance. Letting you run around in their home gym, getting by with barely a fingertips distance away. You were breathless by the time he caught you which only worsened when he started tickling at your sides and neck.

He had you trapped, he was on top of you, between your legs, hands moving fast and causing you to laugh out of control. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, your leg jumped out and tried to slam into Mikey’s side to free yourself from further torture. But he had actually bent down lower making the trajectory straight for his head. It must’ve been ninja instincts because he caught your leg easily in a tight grasp.

“Mercy!” You called out breathlessly. To which he clicked his tongue, letting go of your leg to go back to tickling. That obviously hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay! I take it back!” You pleaded, batting away his hands quickly. To which he continued to try and get past until he moved way too fast for you, smacking your chin accidentally when he had been aiming to just tickle your neck.

Time force. As the sound resounded, with your punctuating “Ow!” Mikey froze. Hands still, pupils shaking as it replayed in his mind. He had hit you. Accidentally of course. But. He had hit you. You were still in pain, recovering from the shock and rubbing your sore chin. While he was receding into his shell, his hands moving back into himself as he apologized. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what, it was just so fast, I’m sorry!!” He was blubbering, by the time you opened your eyes to see how much this had hurt him too.

“Angie! I know! Hey, we were just roughhousing! It got out of hand, it’s okay! I know you didn’t mean it. It was an accident!” And he clung to that word. “It really was an accident. An accident. I’m so sorry. What should I do? Lemme see!” His hands moved suddenly to touch your chin but it was like the sight of his own hands getting close to you made him fearful. He retracted once more, squeezing them into fists and putting them to his chest as he moved to get off of you. To give you space.

“Mikey!” You chastised, getting up and following after him. You grabbed his hands, holding them. “Hey hey, it’s okay! Look I’m not afraid of them and neither should you. It was an accident Mikey, plus I’m already feeling better.” Slowly his fists unfurled and you brought his hands up to your face, positioning them to cup your face. He looked up, with a watery smile. “I’m really sorry,” he said one more time. “I know,” you smiled down at him. “It’s okay!” You made sure to say. And he nodded, relaxing a bit as a shaky breath went through his body before his hands held onto you more securely. Rubbing his fingers back and forth soothingly.

Then he moved back, only to jump and tackle you into a crushing hug. “Yoga?” He asked while digging his head into your neck. “Yoga!” You agreed, and he held onto you like a monkey for a bit before clambering off to return to his mat. “Alright alright, position number one!”

[iambilliejeanok]

🎀The lords plaything🎀

Geto x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, breeding ,NSFW, explicit, squirting, hardcore, rough penetration, cunnillingus, fingering. This one really isn’t for the feint hearted.

🩷Monday Smut Day🩷

It’s not everyday that he gets to see you, pushing you up against the wall as he trailed hot kisses against your neck, and maybe the steaming hot make out session that grew hotter and hotter by the minute was him taking advantage of his own power, but having the powerful leader of a successful, wealthy cult, nipping and licking your neck as he aggressively ripped off each item of your clothing right off your body, was a blessing in itself. Maybe you earned this because of your hard work. You would indulge in it as often as it would happen, since your body belonged to no one but Geto-sama anyhow. “You’re wearing too much”, he spoke in between nips and pecks, ripping your pantyhose off as he growled against your neck, “you’re lucky I’m in a good mood, or this would piss me off”.

You felt guilty about the throbbing ache in your cunt as Geto scolded you, you loved him being this hungry, wondering if you should continue to piss him off in future. Finally ridding you of your pantyhose, you were left in a dark blue two piece lingerie set that seemed to please your god, Geto taking a step back to admire the way the lacy attire complimented your chubby figure. “You baaad girl”, he said, slowly closing the space between the two of you, smacking your pussy hard enough to force you to yelp right in his face. He smiled to himself, pleased with the reaction he caused. “Did you put this slutty little attire on in hopes of pleasing your god?”, he asked, almost growling as he spoke, dragging his fingers up your thick thighs so hard, you just knew you’d be bruised tomorrow. Feeling slightly intimidated as usual, you quickly nodded your head, “Yes Geto-sama, I prayed that you’d get a chance to see me today”, you whimpered.

“You know, you’re my favourite little slut”, he snickered in your ear, your heart skipping a beat at the realization that you weren’t the only one, feeling rather disappointed. You thought what you shared with him might have been special. You almost thought you were the chosen one. That maybe you’d become the new Mary, your heart began to ache, but not for long, as Geto suddenly took you into a fiery kiss, palming both your cheeks in his warm hands. His hands were always warm, his lips so soft as they melted against yours, distracting you from your heartache enough to enjoy him against you again. You whimpered louder than you wanted to when he broke the kiss, watching him slowly kneel down before you. You swallowed, Geto never taking his eyes off of yours as he hooked your panties with his middle finger, just other hand lifting your thigh to rest on his shoulder as he pushed your panties to the side.

He couldn’t resist burying his nose right against your bare clit, making you gasp as your hands immediately rested on his head. “Fuck, will I ever get enough of you huh?”, he asked, his hot breath right against your pussy, making you slightly squirm where you stood. Without warning, he gently pinched your clit between his index and middle finger, slowly massaging it between them. “Ooooh!”, you couldn’t help but moan, the sensation delicious, but not enough to get you anywhere. “Now now”, Geto spoke, smiling over your reaction. “Did you do what I had asked you to?”, he asked, his mouth so close to your clit as he spoke. “Huh?”, you asked, snapping out of your haze, your cheeks warm from the naughty look in his eyes. You gasped loudly when he pinch your clit harder, the answer immediately coming to mind. “Uhh, yeah…I’ve already p-printed out all the intel and m-made an extra copy too. I’ve also o-organized the extra music classes for the girls, everything’s p-paid for the rest of the year”, you spoke, trying your best to not shy away from his gaze, biting your lip as he continued squeezing and rolling your clit between the pads his fingers. “Good girl”, he said, releasing your clit only to replace his fingers with his mouth, his hot and wet tongue getting you all hot and wet too, well not that you weren’t already soaked from just being in his presence. You couldn’t suppress the soft moans escaping your lips, his free hand reaching for your breast, pulling the blue lace that covered it down before cupping it, moaning right into your heat, the vibrations coupled with his fingers now tweaking your nipple, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure from your tummy to your toes, realizing how close you already were. Stopping his administrations for just a second caught your attention, looking down at him to see what the reason was. “You taste wonderful as usual, I could sit here and eat you forever, but we have that meeting with the prime minister in ten remember?”, he asked, “yea”, you replied in the softest voice, your eyes leaving his for just a second to eye your torn clothes spread out over the floor. Without warning, Geto penetrated your sopping heat with just his single finger, shoving it down to the last knuckle, smiling at the sharp scream that left your lips at the sudden intrusion. The stretch burned, afterall, you weren’t used to this, the only man you ever shared your body with for the past two years was Geto, and he only fucked you on occasion, when he was bored, or when he had the time.

Your back arched off the wall, Geto placing his big hand on your lower tummy to push you right back against it, biting his lip at the feel of your heat trying to swallow his finger up further, your walls clenching on it in want. “Geto-sama!”, you moaned, “Geto- sama doesn’t have a lot of free time”, he smiled, “So let’s finish this up quickly shall we?” And with that, his mouth was on your clit again, sucking and licking your throbbing bean as he began moving his finger, pulling out to the tip only to shove it all the way back in, his hand on your tummy keeping you right up against the wall as he circled his finger deep inside of you, pressing against your walls before repeating the action. And like the god you knew his was, you felt yourself reaching your peak, accidentally banging your head against the wall when you threw it back, your mouth hanging open as your fingers dug through his long, soft, black tresses. “I’m gonna cum!”, you cried out, Geto patiently repeating his actions, pulling his finger out only to roughly shove it back inside of you, circling it around to massage your walls, before slowly dragging it out to just the second knuckle, now slowly dragging it back and forth over your gspot. You couldn’t bare how amazing you felt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your leg shaking over his shoulder as you finally came, hot pleasure running through your body in waves of heat as your orgasm washed over you, Geto’s mouth still sucking on your clit, his finger continually rubbing on your gspot, a little slower now that it clenched him in ways that made his dick twitch under his robes. He moaned when he tasted your liquids finally running into his mouth, lost in the way you screamed and cried his name, gushing into his mouth as he continued to devour you. He remembered the time, immediately ending his pleasurably cruel actions in between your legs.

Quickly he lifted up both your thighs, pinning you against the wall, ignorant of the way your body thrashed in his arms, too impatient to wait for you to come back, using one hand to move his robes out the way, his throbbing erection springing up. He grabbed his length, stroking himself a few times as he watched you try and catch your breath, your body limp in his arms. He lined himself with your pussy, letting gravity help him slam himself all the way inside of you, ripping a scream from deep inside your tummy. “Fuck!!!”, you screamed, burning all so deliciously as Geto filled and stretched you out much much more than his fingers did. You could never get used to the size of him, throwing your arms around him and holding him tight. “You ready angel”, he asked, “y-yeesss”, you cried and without another word, he began thrusting into you, pulling himself out all the way to the tip before slamming himself back , circling his hips to get in as deep as he could, your fingers gripping his robes and pulling on his hair. Every single thrust made you scream, your body shivering in his hold as you came for the second time. He couldn’t care less about the mess you made on him, your pussy swallowing him up and squeezing him, hugging him tight with every thrust. It was all worth it to him, and he wanted you to cum again, his hands gripping your thighs so tight as he continued to slam himself inside of you, bottoming out so deep a ring formed at the base, the sounds your squelching pussy made as well as the sexy praises that left your lips drove him closer to the edge. He couldn’t handle the desperate and clingy yes’s, mores’ and “geto-sama’s”, that fell from you lips over and over again, your pussy clenching him tight as you squirted for the third time. He couldn’t resist how tight you squeezed him, Geto finally cumming hard, shooting hot liquid deep inside of you, making you scream as you felt him fill you up. He bit into your shoulder, hard enough to leave a nasty mark, your pussy milking him for every lost drop he had to offer. “Fuck!”, he growled, unable to pull out of you just yet, your heat still tightly wrapped around him.

Geto still held you up, your body so weak and limp in his arms, and you were grateful for the support, not sure if you’d be able to stand on your own. You were both panting hard, Geto planting kisses all over your neck as your cries turned into soft whimpers, your pussy finally able to release him. Before he pulled out of you, he turned around, his legs also a bit numb as he gently placed you on the nearby counter top, spreading your legs wide as he slowly pulled out, the hole that was so tight around him now gaping wide. He placed one hand on your tummy, pressing down hard enough to make you whimper loudly , his white fluid finally seeping out of you, spilling onto the floor in drops. He absolutely loved the sight, feeling himself growing hard again. He had to fight the temptation to fuck you once more, remembering the meeting that probably already began. He stepped away from you, and your slowly fell to the floor, the counter top not wide enough to keep your entire body on it. “I’m going to clean up in the bathroom, I’m sure the meeting already started. I’m gonna fuck you harder later on for making me late”, he said, his voice a tad bit horse as he spoke. He turned around, leaving you naked and weak on the floor, and you watched his back as he walked away to the door. “Clean yourself up and get your ass to that meeting in five”, he said as he reached for the handle, turning around to face you one more time, “or else I’ll really hurt you tonight”, and with that he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Sometimes he was nice enough to help you clean up, but today he was rather upset. He’s probably just stressed about the meeting, you told yourself, your heart skipping a beat when you realised you couldn’t stand up just yet, your legs still jello and your pussy aching from the rough penetration. Hopefully you could make it up to him by tonight, because you weren’t too sure if you’d be able to gather yourself in just five minutes, and to make matters worse, your clothes lay torn on the floor a few feet away from you.

Fuck

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Always

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x GN!Hunter!Reader

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert.

Author’s Notes: I’m writing this the day after I swore I’d never do angst. Ironic, huh. I’m working on getting more power across in my words- hopefully that shows.

Anyhow, this is set after <S2 SPOILER> John dies saving Dean. Obviously, given the nature of his passing, Dean can’t talk to Sam about it- but in this story he has someone he can talk to.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! ❤️❤️

As always, all notes are very much appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: This is angst at its finest. A 16+ audience would be preferred on this piece.

“What if, for just once in your life, you manned up and actually talked to me?” My voice is loud. It’s booming, and it’s borderline angry. My hands are balled into fists at my sides, and my jaws clenched.

I’m just so done. I try so hard with Dean, and I’m always patient. When he doesn’t want to talk, I don’t pry. I’m there for him whenever he needs me, however he needs me, wherever, at any hour, without so much as a second thought. I’ve never faulted him for not being able to say “I love you,” or for not being gentle when I need him to be. And I will always do these things.

But I am not okay with being told to “Stop fucking doing that,” ‘that’ being me trying to ask him if he’s okay. I let him get away with a lot of things, maybe more than I should, but outright cussing and waving me off? That’s too much.

So fine. We’ve been yelling at each other at least ten minutes now. Far too loud for a shitty motel with paper thin walls, surely, but right now I need him not only to hear me, but to listen to me.

He’s stood down after that last question. His shoulders slumped from their tense posture, his jaw no longer clenched. He’s trying so hard to retain his scowl, but I see the tick in the corner of his mouth. I see the way that his beautiful green eyes start to water.

No matter what cruel things he said to me, I refused to retaliate. He can swear at me all he wants, but he won’t get the same treatment in return. Because nothing can take down the thick walls of the elder Winchester like human decency. Something he’s never properly gotten from anyone- his own father included in that omniscient “anyone.”

“So?” I ask, my hands still fists. I won’t back down until he does, I can’t give him the chance to roll his eyes and turn away like he would with anyone else.

“I-,” his voice gets caught in his throat. “Cause I’m no man, sweetheart. Certainly not man enough for you.”

“Cut the shit, Dean,” the swear slipped out of my lips before I could stop him. I see him flinch, and my heart pangs, fists unclench. Suddenly, I’m not so fired up. “Sorry, sorry. Listen, this isn’t about what you are for me. Because if it was, we wouldn’t be fighting. You’re perfect for me, Dean.”

“Just-,” I stop myself, moving back to sit on one of the dingy hotel beds with its ugly orange gingham duvet. I sit cross-legged, back against the flat puke-green pillows propped against the headboard, looking up at Dean who is still standing in the same spot like a statue. “C’mere,” I pat the bed gently.

He obeys wordlessly, a listless quality to the way he drags his feet to where I’m sat. He doesn’t sit, though, a clear tentativity in his watery eyes. “Dean, it’s okay.”

Okay to cry, I want to add.

Okay to feel.

Okay to be human.

He sighs. “I’m just not good at talking, Y/n. I never had anyone to talk to- my dad was my boss more than anything, I had to- have to- be strong for my brother, and anyone else who’s come into my life seems to fit into one of those two categories.” A singular, perfect tear runs down his face. His expression is stony, but his voice… while as deep as always, it has a broken quality to it, something he’s trying to hide.

“Dean. I’m not anyone. You can talk to me, you can be broken with me,” I urge, mentally willing him to come sit by me so I can touch him, hug him, anything.

Finally, he sits. I don’t reach out to touch him, not yet. He looks shaky.

“Listen. I know Sam’s been up your ass trying to get you to talk about him. I know aren’t big on touchy feely stuff, and I ain’t gonna push you. But I need you to stop lashing out at me when I ask you if you’re okay.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. His lower lip quivers, finally breaking his scowl. A sad, splintered chuckle leaves his lips. “Y’know, he’d do the same to me. I’d ask, sometimes, after a real bad hunt, and he’d lash out… I’m too much like him, y/n. That’s why I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice is just a little too steady, almost artificial.

“You’re not too much like him, not at all,” I say, reaching out to him, but stopping before my hand can touch his. I’m letting him be the one to pull the trigger, to decide if he wants physical touch right now. “You’re better than he could’ve ever hoped to be, Dean. He knew that. Sam knows that. I know that.”

And that’s what breaks the dam, tears freely falling down his stubbled cheeks. He takes my hand in his, holding tight before I tug at him, inviting him to lay in my lap. He obliges, head resting in my lap. I take initiative to run my fingers through his hair, something that I’ve found soothes him.

“I just-,” his voice is broken, there’s no hiding it now. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I just want to help you be okay, that’s all.”

We sit like that for a while, his head in my lap as he cries. He doesn’t sob, but occasionally choked up noises escape him, and it breaks my heart seeing him like this. Eventually, I find it in myself to speak again.

“I know he never really said it, Dean. But he loved you, he did. He trusted you. He was thankful for you,” I tell him, wiping some of the tears off of his face.

John Winchester might’ve been a sorry excuse for a man after Mary died, fine.

But it was clear that he loved his boys, especially Dean, even if it was in his own fucked up way.

I hated the Winchester father. Quite frankly, I still do. For the way that he had put revenge in front of the care of his kids, for the way he treated his kids, even into their adulthood. I mean, making an eight year old take care of a four year old? How bad of a father can you be?

He’s a son of a bitch. But in the end, even though the bastard never once validated his elder son (nor his younger)- and he should’ve- he died for Dean. And I know Dean’ll blame himself for it. But the fact that his dad loved him… that might be enough to make the self-resentment more lenient. That and the fact that he has me.

I won’t let him hate himself or feel unloved. I think John knew that- that Dean would have far better support if he was gone. I’m know he knew how much Dean respected and idolized him, but I also know damn well that he knew damn well that he was not good enough for his son. Not nearly good enough.

So hopefully, between me and Sam, we can mend the hole in his heart. Help him feel whole again.

But for now he needs this. To cry, to feel. Something he never felt he could, not in the presence of anyone else.

Gradually the tears slow to a stop. He sniffles, wiping his face, but not moving his head from my lap. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always,” I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. “I mean that.”

“I love you.”

There’s no stutter or pause in his words. He’s said them, plain and simple, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been able to get the words out. I guess it’s my turn to cry, because I feel a tear trickle down my face, landing on his. He grins a crooked grin at that. “Is it that bad a fate?” he jokes.

“No, no,” I choke on my laugh. “I love you too.”

And sure, there’s going to be more nights like these. Nights where we fight, and maybe sometimes they won’t end so well, so neatly.

There’s going to be more fights. Stupid fights, nasty fights.

But there will also be more I love yous. More holding. More feeling.

And no matter what happens, I’ll be there for Dean Winchester. Always. And I mean that.

[rabbitbakery]

A brief reprieve (black Pearl cookie x captain caviar cookie)

I’ve been cooking an au in my silly little brain ever since I started hyperfixating on cookie run yet again. I call it the ✨reformation au✨

Warnings: a little angst but comfort, heavily implied that black Pearl cookie was in love with frilled jellyfish cookie before she “died”, man tits 😔

__________________________________

She doesn’t know what this….MAN has done to her brain but she’s not exactly….thrilled about it. Black Pearl cookie told herself she would NEVER trust a pile of worthless crumbs ever again, it’s only brought her trouble anyway! They are nothing but pathetic- weak! Yet, here she was, waiting for her… captain to visit her once more.

Ever since he and that sentient fish tank dared disturb her in her sunken kingdom, he’s been visiting. She tried to drown him for the first few times, but he was nothing but stubborn- stupidly so in her opinion. He was a persistent little pest, yet she found herself waiting for him at noon on the dot everyday. If he would come, it was always at noon, no sooner or later. Over time she…dreaded his visits less…. The constant storm making the Dustgloom sea’s nearly inhospitable calming with every visit. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, her first love betrayed her… took Frilled Jellyfish cookie away from her… but yet she finds herself at the same little alcove underwater, silently watching the horizon for a all too familiar ship.

“Lass? You ‘ere?” Captain Caviar cookies deep, raspy voice called towards the watery blue. That voice… ugh she can’t stand it…After a few minutes she decided to make her appearance, her large, titanic form rose from the depths, looking down at the spec of a man in front of her. 

“What do you want…” her intimidating siren-like voice as loud as always, yet she’s never seen him flinch as many others have.

“There’ ya are pearly, ominous’ per usual huh lass?”. That nickname…that damn nickname… 

“You didn’t answer me…”. Part of her thinks he’s still trying to get something from her, yet she had no Pearl to lose anymore anyway…nothing she would be too beat up about parting with. 

“Can’t I come see ya without needen’ somethin?” He says with a deep chuckle, his hand looming over his pocket on his coat. She never knew why he wore the damn thing, he never buttoned it up anyhow. 

“I gotcha somethin’….”. She tilted her head like a curious cat, her usual slit pupils dilating. He grabbed the mysterious treasure from his pocket, waiting for her to hold out her hand to gift it to her. Black Pearl cookie reluctantly complied, it was probably some kind of cookie junk-

A Pearl. A big one too, full of shine and no imperfections, the lustrous surface shining pinks and grays perfectly… her… her Pearl. 

“Oyster cookie found out bout’ me lil trips down ere’ from me crew, the little scallawags, said she had somethin’ of yer’s from an old family member. Poor lass sounded so torn up bout’ er family stealin’ it.” 

“…” ah…it’s been that long… hasn’t it? He moved on without her…had a family…pasted away…

…

She suddenly dove back under the surface, her long white hair revealing her diving deeper and deeper till she could no longer be seen.

“Wait!- Lass? Ya alright? I’m sorry if I upset ya…” his voice started concerned, fading into disappointment… he was really hoping she’d like it. She might as well be part of his crew by now, and he wasn’t leaving his spot till he was certain she was in tip top shape, so he dropped the anchor and… waited.

…She had it back. Her Pearl, her perfect pearl, her most valued treasure returned to her. All that hatred for Lord Oyster cookie, all that venom she had for him taking what’s rightfully hers…. 

She feels…better. For the first time in centuries she felt like she gained just a little piece of herself that she had ripped from her. She felt…happy, not the joy she felt from watching those crumbs dissolve into nothing by her own hand, no. Content, she felt content. It brought her too tears, and she hasn’t cried in centuries, her cold, vitriolic heart beating with joy. She held it close, clutching it like it would be taken once more…

A tiny, calloused hand touched Black Pearl cookies scaled arm, bringing her back into her senses.

“…Pearly..? Are ya ok..?” His voice was soft, concerned and weary. She doesn’t know what to say, how to feel… and seemingly her face reflects that.

“…what…what does dat’ Pearl mean to ya?” That was all he could think to ask, clearly it meant a lot but he’s never seen her cry, it was unnerving to be frank. The highly feared sea siren, her name could strike terror into even the most experienced sailor, crying.

“…it’s my Pearl…” she mumbled like a scared child.

“…it was a gift to…..” she doesn’t finish her sentence. She hates feeling this weak, this PATHETIC. He’s the pathetic one- HIM. She’s the legendary Black Pearl cookie for almighty seas sake!- She’s a GOD compared to him…. Yet…

“…like… a boyfriend or somethin?” Captain Caviar cookie asked, confused that she even might have had a boyfriend before. Like, jeez poor bloke must’ve been idiotic to upset her this bad. 

“…he got my best friend killed over…THIS.” Her voice was full of venom and vitriol. Her  ginormous trident flew to her claw with a loud ‘SHINCK’. Black Pearl cookies tail shot her to the surface, memories she’d long buried swirling in her mind like a typhoon. The clouds above darkened, a grand thunderstorm forming…

“Why won’t that pest leave me BE!?-“ ‘WAM’ lighting struck a nearby rock face, jagged stones falling into the deep blue.

That pest took her way he got her killed by that stupid land cookie then had the gull to beg for forgiveness she will never forgive him she will ripe everything one of his next to kin to shreds-

“…I’m sorry lass…” his voice interrupted her rage, Captain Caviar, in the most sincere voice she thinks she’s ever heard. Her gaze returned to the water, watching him float next to her, his face etched with worry and a genuine care she’s not seen in  a millennia. 

“If i’dda known givin ye that woulda’ brought back such bad memories I woulda’ kept it to meself’…” Black Pearl cookie felt a pang of something she didn’t know she could feel anymore. Guilt.

“….no…no it’s not…I appreciate it, truly, I do…” the storm calmed, her trident sinking back to the sea floor.

“It’s just…I’m still so….” All his hard work, all his visiting and his care was paying off, she was finally opening up…

“Angry. He just… moved on like he didn’t do anything wrong… like he wasn’t a murderer..” Sharp talons dig into her skin as she said that last part, her eyes slits once more.

“…lass… I don’t mean to sound insensitiv’ but… holdin a grudge against that scurvy dog ain’t gonna change what he did… it’s no good for ya too keep makin urself’ miserable thinkin bout em’..” Captain Caviar cookie was trying his best to be as helpful as he could, but he ain’t trying to get himself turned into fish food quite yet. She just looked… tired now. A deep seeded tiredness that had built and festered, destroying the happy little moon she once was, even if she was insecure she was happy. Now look at her… how pitiful she was now…

“…perhaps your right…but it’s so hard not to be angry at…everything.” She was mad at the Almighty Sea for not protecting tearcrown, her sisters, or her precious servant when she needed her most. She’s mad at her sisters for not allowing her to grow stronger, to train incase of a battle so that maybe, just maybe she could have saved Frilled Jellyfish cookie. She’s mad at ….him. She gave him the ability to quite literally thrive underneath the tranquil waters and he threw it all away as soon as money was offered to him. He sold a part of her to a man who killed her true first love… her Frilled Jellyfish Cookie. She’s mad at herself… her sisters would be so disappointed if they saw her now.

“…I know lass… I know.” From the little things she’s told him before, he knew she had many valid reasons to be so hateful. To look at any living thing with distain, to distrust any cookie she saw. He just wishes she saw him the way he saw her. Captain Caviar cookie would never admit it out loud, but she truly was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, cruel yes, mean? Absolutely! But he doesn’t mind, maybe there’s baby sturgeon’s in his brain eating away at his senses but that’s kind of what he liked about her. She was so strong, a force to be reckoned with, yet here he swims next to her, gently speaking to her as she’s in a distressed state.  

After a beat of silence she turns to her more docile small state, while still bigger then him by at least a foot. What Captain Caviar Cookie didn’t expect was for her to launch herself into his arms, curling around him like a boa constrictor. She’s NEVER been affectionate, other then the few pets she occasionally let him do on her head, they never touch.

“! Wow there lass-“

…he smells nice…like salt water and outside.. this was so nice. She can’t remember the last time she hugged someone, sometimes she forgets how touch starved she is. 

“…I like when you visit…” she mumbled into his coat, which she was heavily judging him for not taking it off before he jumped into the water. 

“…what was that lass?” He said smugly and light heartedly

“Shut it you worthless pile of crumbs and let me hug you!” Black Pearl Cookie hissed. There’s his girl. 

“Pfft- oh come on lass I’m teasin!”. She grumbled a bit more before focusing on snuggling up to him more, a deep purring in her throat. 

‘Hehe, like a cat…’ Captain Caviar thought to himself, happily accepting the affection from the siren he had been trying to get the attention of for weeks now. 

…This was nice…it was like all her anger and hatred was gone for but a moment…she felt.. lighter. Her mind more clear.

“…aye… lass you feelin’ alright? Yer scales be turnin…”.

“?” She gazed down at her tail, towards his gaze… pink. The tips of her scales were now pink, how they used to be… 

“WHAT THE?!-“ Black pearls voice screeched, a look of confusion and a little horrified shock on her face. How was that even possible??? All the pigment disappeared from her body when her mind was tainted- what happened???

“Wow wow Pearly calm down, I’m sure you caught a fever or somethin’”. She hates how his voice could always calm her. 

“You should rest lassy, it’s no good for ya to be havin all this excitement if ye are gettin’ sick.” He gently rubs her back, yeah…maybe it was that…

He bid her goodbye, her retiring to her hoard of valuables she had stolen from republic ships over the years. She was not to sleep till she placed her Pearl in a chest she had laying around, hiding it for no other but herself. Her hoard was like it’s own little story, the history of cookies long passed all within this submerged cave. She curled up in her lavished nest, maybe she’d be ok in the morning…

… but she wasn’t.

Her Pearl began gaining its pink shine back, the black pigment swirling and fighting with the soft pastel. The tips of her tail gained its rosey shade back in a soft gradient, her skin less grey… but it wasn’t sickness. She felt….calm. Like a weight had been lifted off her chest even if just a little. The constant storm within her seas calm, grey clouds. While the pain was still there.. it wasn’t in control anymore. 

She didn’t think a measly cookie could make her fall in love ever again….

But clearly she was wrong.

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

Okay, I promised gay Pokémon, I will deliver (so I can distract myself from thinking about anything else relating to this day!!)

🏳️‍🌈💝Let’s Talk About Gay Pokémon Courtship!💝🏳️‍🌈

Firstly, a note: this post is mostly about Pokémon that form long-term partnerships (exclusive or not). That doesn’t mean there isn’t any gay romance going on in non-pair-bonding species, just that it’s more of a short-term fling! (Did you know Yanma have been recorded to be gay? Now you do.)

With that being said… I want to look at a few specific examples for today! Birds are by far some of the most dedicated, but I’ll focus in on a lesser known one today, Mandibuzz! I’ll also touch on a wonderful Zoroark pair I’ve gotten to know myself, and finally, as bears discussion in any talk of couples, Tandemaus! (I might add more if there’s demand, later.)

1. Mandibuzz

Mandibuzz, as many may be aware, are a primarily (I would say solely, but biology doesn’t like absolutes much) female species of buzzard Pokémon! Typically they produce their eggs by pairing with Braviary, but… that’s about where the “straightness” ends with many Mandibuzz.

See, Mandibuzz raise their young in nests made from bone. But what many neglect in this fact is that nests are not made for one singular Mandibuzz. Instead, Mandibuzz go through a long and arduous courtship process to choose fellow Mandibuzz to pair up with, consisting of bone collection and adornment (which the Pokédex, to my loathing, lists as “showing off for males” that don’t exist), specialized mating calls and courtship dances, and finally, the exchanging of bones.

Once these nests are formed, Mandibuzz nest together for life. They’ll hunt for carrion together, adorn each other with pieces of bone, and groom each other, in addition to diligently raising their young together. Newborn Rufflet and Vullaby view both Mandibuzz as their mothers, regardless of which clutch they’re from. Perhaps as the most bittersweet example, bonded Mandibuzz are willing to fight to the death to protect not just their shared clutches, but each other. Love those lesbians.

2. Zoroark

I know, I know, it’s a cop-out from me to throw in another Unovan Pokémon of my species, but if I didn’t add this all of my examples would be lesbian. Zorua, like many other gender-skewed species, typically have an abundance of males and not many females around. You might think this would lead to intense competition for mates. You would be very wrong. Firstly, because not many pairs are exclusive for life (some are, still). Secondly, because male Zoroark, on average (again, this tends to be similar for many male-skewed species!), are gay as hell. (My brother being exclusively straight is weird, and I blame human heteronormativity jokingly.) (ALSO, this may just apply to my pack for all I know.)

Anyhow. Zorua essentially form hunting partnerships in childhood. Hunting used to be an essential part of our lives before McDonphan’s showed up down the street to raid instead. …Okay, it still is. Now, these pairs are mostly formed between same-gender Zorua, and stick through the rest of one’s life. Female Zoroark who pair tend to raise their kits together (though kit raising is pretty communal already), and often have similar closeness to female Mandibuzz. Male Zoroark who are paired at a young age often focus exclusively on their partners! They serve as teachers to the younger Zorua in the pack, much-needed babysitters, and often adopters of the ‘weaker’ kits whose survival is uncertain. Outside of kit rearing, though, some paired Zoroark have formed their own solitary pairs far-flung from local packs, subsisting off their own paired hunts or taking on lives in the human world together!

3. Tandemaus

Tandemaus, as a species, are presumed genderless due to their never being separated. That being said, there are gender differences in the mäuse, with there being pants-wearers and shirt-wearers. What field researchers have found recently, though, is that up to 15% of couples consist of two pants-wearers or two shirt-wearers! (Sadly, could not get such a picture for today.)

There’s no observed behavioral difference between two-shirts and two-pants couples… and what’s more, they are just as likely to show up with one or two more mäuse suddenly. Genetic testing has found these newly-acquired mice are just as genetically equivalent to their “parents” as mixed-pair born Maushold… I wish I could begin to dig into that, but good for them! Good for them.

[luffyvace]

aghh it’s probably gonna take me forever til my next post so one piece rant as a solution

anyway I kinda just wanted to rant about luffy and how awesome he is. you really don’t have to pay attention to this post..

Idk if imma delete this later depends on if anybody cares cuz I kinda like all reqs/hcs no random posts but hey whatever

moving on..Luffy. I really like his name it rolls off my tongue. I remember when I first started watching I used to call him “luh-fee” instead of “loo-fee” you get it? I think some people still do but now that im used to it, it kinda sounds weird to me, and I like the official way better. Which is ironic seeing as though I like the way I said it at first, better, at first. Lol if that makes sense.

anyhow, I also like his look, how simple yet unique it is? I’ve never seen a mc wear knee shorts and a vest with basically no shirt..good job oda! Love the creativity! The strawhats was the cherry on top. Without it I love him all the same but if that was his official design? it’d be missing something..maybe I’m only saying that because I’m used to it..I probably am.

luffys personality is my absolute favorite thing about him. He his flaw of being too confident at first, I absolutely loved it and would feed into it if I could be there to hype him up LOL. I just have a thing for really sweet guys, I’m sure that’s not hard to understand :) like I love constant positivity and playfulness! To me with his character design it wouldn’t make sense for him to be malicious, but oddly enough would make a good hook for those first starting the show. Again, I’m happy with his overall character design. I especially loved him in the first few arcs. I was so happy while watching the romance dawn arc I had a smile on my face the entire time and was rooting for luffy on everything he did. I remember whenever he encountered someone that the show at first perceived as against him, I was like “booo! Luffy beat em up! Yeah get em!” Buggy (I love the guy now tho 😭💓).

wow this got long quick I’m gonna end it here.

apologies for the wait on your requests..please do be patient with me but I’m tired today

- Brook

🌷

[adrinoir]

Headcanon: Adrien Agreste is Trans? (Part 4)

I absolutely love writing about this headcanon. Feel free to read my other sections of the trans headcanon: part one, part two, and part three.

Usual disclaimer: this is just for fun! Obviously cis boys can have these same qualities and traits. Don’t take it too seriously. These are all just things I’ve noticed. Also please keep in mind I haven't watched anything beyond Kwami's Choice: part 1 when I'm writing and posting this (so, I'm using what I currently know).

The incredibly strong dislike of modeling

This relates back to part one where I talked about Adrien’s discomfort in being a model. I had mentioned modeling is all about body - your face and body being everywhere, having to pose in front of a camera all the time, having to walk down the runway. There's a lot of visible discomfort we see in Adrien whenever he has to model.

Anyhow, what I want to add is that this discomfort never eased up for him despite the many, many years he had to model. He was extremely adamant about quitting. Obviously, modeling is a very stressful job as is, especially with the amount of gigs and events to attend and the insane fans who want to know where he's at, plus he said he just wants to be treated as a son by his dad. However, having gender dysphoria is something that can really be heightening this discomfort and desire to quit.

I feel like there are a lot of people out there who would desire to live this lavish lifestyle of being a model, but Adrien can't stand it. So therein lies the question: aside from the normal stress, what is heightening his strong dislike for this job? It could also be the fact that it's keeping him from getting to try out new things he'd enjoy doing, but also consider that his father controls his life as a whole, it isn't just his modeling position getting in the way. And, as I've previously said, there's a lot of visible discomfort, which could easily be what's making him dislike modeling even more.

Additionally, Adrien's face is now not only plastered on billboards, but on almost everyone's Alliance ring. Gabriel scanned Adrien's entire body and created this AI version of him to relieve him of his modeling duties. However, Adrien is still uneasy and doesn't like seeing his face and voice on just about everyone's device (if they have him as their option and not Lila). Yes, it's obviously weird for him to see a fake version of himself saying things he never recorded. But, 1) his face has been all over Paris for years (MASSIVE photos of him), and 2) this should not be incredibly shocking behavior for Gabriel Agreste. So, is there some dysphoric discomfort here, too? Possibly. I know it's a stretch, but it's definitely a small piece to take into consideration.

He often lets people perceive him how they want to

I had also mentioned in part two that he's a people pleaser and melds himself to be who other people want him to be. I want to add, he also lets people define who he is instead of trying real hard to correct them; he lets them think what they want of him.

A good example of this is in Lies when Kagami is trying to draw Adrien. He tries to pose as a cat to try and vaguely show his Cat Noir side; to be silly. But, Kagami doesn't believe this. He even promises her that this is who he really is, that being silly is part of who he truly is. However, Kagami pushes him against a wall, stares directly into his eyes, and says he’s perfect and, "There. This is really you." To which he answers, "Do you really think...?" and just lets Kagami kiss him. Yes, Kagami was being a bit forceful (like, oof. She shouldn't have done that). But, Adrien didn't try to tell her she's wrong. He let Kagami perceive him in her own way.

Why doesn't he correct her? It could be because he wouldn't want people knowing he's trans. It’s a very scary thing. You don’t know how the people who claim they love you will react. Letting them think what they want to doesn’t raise suspicion that he’s hiding something, and clearly his effort on trying to open up to her more didn’t even work in the first place.

You could say he acts like "being silly" is such a big, important part of him that he feel must be hidden at all costs, because it seems that he thinks that him being silly and telling puns would possibly give away that he's Cat Noir. BUT him posing that way for Kagami and him telling cat jokes in the middle of class (in Ephemeral) proves that notion wrong.

One could say he also doesn't want people to know he's dealing with a bad home life, but it's been common knowledge from the start that he has a controlling father. Nino has come up with plans on multiple occasions to free him from his father so they can hang out together. Kagami's mother and Gabriel are friends. It's how Adrien and her met, and Kagami makes it very well known that she's aware of how controlling Gabriel is.

In Elation - one of the most recent episodes - he mentions to Marinette that his fans "wouldn't be such big fans if they knew who was really behind the mask". So, even now, he still feels the need to hide his truer self and that he wouldn't be liked for who he truly is. But, let's think about this for a moment. He has fans both as Adrien and as Cat Noir. He has friends who know his situation and care about him. So then…what is being left out that he feels people won’t like about him? THAT brings us to the next point.

Why does he think people wouldn’t like him?

With all that being said (in the last section), there’s no exact, definable reason as to why Adrien says people wouldn’t like the real him. So, this could mean Adrien is hiding something we as the audience can’t even see.

It’s obvious Adrien has underlying insecurities. But, it seems there’s more than just those insecurities, and this could be him possibly being trans and internally struggling with that gender dysphoria.

People like what they see in Cat Noir - his silly puns and kind heart. People like what they see in Adrien - his kindness and friendliness. So, why will it be problematic once people know they’re the same person? There’s no solid reason.

I had mentioned in my other parts of this headcanon that he’s very closed off which can be pretty common amongst closeted trans people. Adrien thinking people won’t like who he truly is without any definable reason could contribute to that. He doesn’t want people to know he’s trans because he feels they’d think very differently of him and may not like him.

Think about how quickly he believed Marinette in Elation when she said she liked Adrien but doesn’t anymore. It shows that sign of insecurity and dislike for himself. When the girl he likes shows so many signs that she like him throughout the entire show but denies that, he doesn’t believe her. It’s really sad.

The closeness with his mom

So, we aren’t given much background on Emilie, but one thing we do see is that she’s closer to Adrien than Gabriel is. However, what makes them close? We’re never given a reason.

There’s that possibility she’s manipulative like Gabriel but in a different sense, one that makes Adrien like her despite being abusive. But, of course there’s the possibility that she isn’t, which makes her the better parent.

So, if it were true that she never abused Adrien, that leaves the question: what makes them close?

Hypothetically, if my headcanon was actually canon, she could be the one parent who supports Adrien being trans. That reason alone would make them closer, but could also be just one reason amongst many others.

The headcanon still works if I flip it

What if instead of Adrien being a trans guy who already transitioned, he’s a trans girl who hasn’t transitioned yet? I know that might sound like a massive stretch, but I’ve heard this headcanon from other fans and there’s some good back up for this, too.

We all know Gabriel is a very abusive father. We all know Adrien’s childhood dreams were nonexistent because was forced to be who his parents wanted him to be (or he’s forcing himself to please them). What if this is because they don’t support Adrien when he told him he felt like a girl? That’d mean he’s forced to continue living as a boy to please his parents, because his parents don’t accept the fact that he’s trans.

And modeling? That discomfort in having to show the body he has this disconnect from the body he was born in but still has to have pictures taken of all the time.

And him overcompensating his masculinity as Cat Noir? Trans people who are still questioning or don’t have a choice to transition can overcompensate to try being comfortable in the body they were born into. For example, a trans guy who can’t transition might try to be a very feminine girl (makeup, dressed, etc) or a trans girl who can’t transition might try to be a very masculine guy (get real muscular, grow out their facial hair, etc).

Just about every reason I’ve listed in all parts of this headcanon work just the same if Adrien was supposedly a closeted trans girl which makes this headcanon even more interesting imo.

Also, we do see him shirtless in Mr. Pigeon 72 which some people say debunks this whole headcanon that he’s a trans guy. BUT, this isn’t necessarily true. 1) Puberty blockers exist 2) it supports the flipped version.

This flipped headcanon would also be extremely sad if it is true that Adrien is a sentibeing. The ability to change Adrien to be the gender he connects with would be possible, but his parents chose not to recreate another version of him for their own sake. Or, they did possibly try but it’s what ended up wrecking the peacock miraculous, which might’ve made them feel some hostility towards Adrien.

There’s other characters in the show that are canonically queer

There’s absolutely no denying that there are queer characters in the show. Even though it’s not directly stated that Juleka and Rose are dating and that Nathaniel and Marc are dating, it’s made very clear that they are just based on their interactions.

I also heard Marc is based on one of the staff’s gender fluid friends, which is really cool! That’s direct queer representation that they clarified outside the show.

If you know anything about Disney, you’ll know there’s some homophobia and transphobia around the company. For instance, I also watch The Owl House where the main character Luz is openly bi and Amity is openly lesbian. They end up crushing on each other and dating. They directly state in the show that they’re girlfriends, show Luz coming out to her mom as bi, and have scenes of Luz and Amity kissing. There’s also Raine who’s an openly non-binary character - they directly refer to Raine with they/them pronouns. Their VA is also non-binary. And what does Disney do, despite how incredibly successful this show is? They wouldn’t let the creator renew it.

So, other Disney shows such as Miraculous and Star vs the Forces of Evil show queer characters without directly saying that they are. People might refer to that as queer baiting, but with Disney’s proof of being homophobic and transphobic, I can understand why these shows wouldn’t directly say what these characters’ sexualities and identities are.

Anyhow, considering how they massively hint at Rose and Juleka being girlfriends and Marc and Nathaniel being boyfriends, there’s that possibility that other characters in the show are queer, too. That’s why I and many other fans of the show can easily create these queer headcanons for many of the characters. There’s a lot of signs in the show.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #9 (Lend an Ear)

Title: Field Notes on Misija, Part III

Wordcount: 1028

Spoilers through: Shadowbringers, specifically Bozja storyline

Relationships & Characters: Misija, Fordola

Summary: Even further handwritten notes on the history and character of the IVth's covert operative, Misija Votyasch.  Use to add to your field record.

(Experimenting with a new format this time! I’ve been wanting to try my hand at writing an “interrogation transcript” in the style of one of the Bozja Field Notes for a while. I just did DRN on my alt last weekend, so it seemed a good idea to write it while that was fresh in my mind!)

.

This document records a supervised visitation between Ala Mhigan Resistance conscript Fordola Lupis and covert operative Misija Votyasch, as facilitated by liaison officer Apella. 

.

M: Back again, I see. And you’ve brought a friend too. Is this another interrogation? I've already said my piece, and you yours.

A: This is Fordola Lupis, of the Ala Mhigan Resistance. She has requested permission to speak with you.

M: I don’t recognize that name. Her face and uniform seem familiar, though.

F: We crossed blades in Delubrum Reginae. 

M: So the noble Resistance has resorted to sacrificing the soldiers of its allies rather than risk being tempered themselves. Even now, I find new ways to be disappointed in the supposed “values” of the nation they seek to build.

F: Your eikon posed no threat to me.

M: If it hadn’t been for the Eorzean champion, I would have tempered you like the rest.

A: You have five minutes, starting now.

M: And just like that, she’s gone. Shame. She’s a gentle one at heart, it would not surprise me if she approved this visit herself. But who are you? What do you want with me?

F: I just needed to know: were you another dupe or another madman?

M: I don’t follow.

F: Seeing as you still don’t know the smell of your own shite even after it’s bitten you in the arse, I’m guessing it’s the first one. 

M: If you’re just here to insult me, you can leave.

F: Did you know tea works for the headaches? And that painkillers what put you to sleep don't? Or did they leave that part out too?

M: Who said I was having headaches? …Ah. I understand now. So you’re her. We thought test subject XXVIII had been executed by the rebels. 

F: Not yet, they haven’t.

M: I pity you. But your own sympathy is misplaced. The IVth isn't like the XIIth. I did not gamble my life in an unethical experiment the way you were made to.

F: Like hells you didn’t. There is no safe procedure.

M: I speak the truth. Van Galbranth cares about the well-being of his men. He would not trust Sicinius if he didn't have standards. 

F: Standards? You met that man and you thought he had standards? He's a snake like mal Asina was before him. Any assurances he gave you were worth less than bollocks.

M: And yet, I stand before you.

F: Aye, unlike the poor bastards we dug up underneath the Castrum. Dozens upon dozens of corpses for the one miracle that was you. No different than in Ala Mhigo.

M: You’re lying. There were no corpses. 

F: Mayhap not on the report you saw. You never stopped to wonder? If the Garleans could piss super soldiers like they were water, why wouldn't they? 

M: …

F: It's because they can't. Like I said: dupes or madmen. Those are the only lot what volunteers when the survival rate’s less than six sodding percent!

A: Two minutes left.

M: I cannot fathom what you hope to gain from this bizarre debate. Suppose your assessment is correct and not merely outdated. What does it matter? I will not give you the satisfaction of breaking my pride over the proof of a single deceiver amidst our ranks.

F: Keep your bloody pride, I don’t want it. But you’ll want to hear the rest I’ve got to say.

M: Out with it, then.

F: Don't worry about the dreams, those are normal. Not feeling your limbs, or feeling like your body's not your own, is not. Tell someone, though if you've got to that point it's probably too late anyhow.

M: …Fascinating. Undoubtedly concerning. But fascinating nonetheless. Are you describing a fatal mismatch between incorporeal and corporeal aether?

F: Do I sound like a scholar to you? I’m just repeating that what’s been told to me. 

M: As you so colorfully emphasized, I was not made aware of this danger by any Garlean scientists. What was your source of information?

F: One of the Students. My Mikoto, so to speak. She was… kinder to me than I deserved. Afterwards.

M: Krile Baldesion, if I am not mistaken.

F: The records had her name, but not mine? Hmph. Right - speaking of, check your blood type if you ever need a transfusion. Mine’s turned into the same rare Lalafell swill she has. You’ll likely get Au ra.

M: Why would trace aberrations in the soul alter the nature of corporeal aether? I am no expert in such fields, but what you are suggesting goes against even basic, foundational aetheric theory.

F: You ever stopped to watch a ceruleum refinery? 

M: I presume you are going somewhere with this. Yes, I have. They built one over the polluted slum where I grew up. Why?

F: Those flares they set off? That's you. Your soul’s now got more aether than your body knows what to do with, and it gets funny about it. …Or something to that tune. Feels great until it doesn't. By now you'll be hitting the pins and needles stage. Exercising makes it go away for a while. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn't.

M: You have a talent for memorable imagery, I won’t deny that. We may agree on very little else, but I can respect your advice, and the candor with which you have chosen to share it.

F: If you ever need some bugger to talk to about it all, I’ll lend you an ear. Least I can do, seeing as you’ve let me borrow yours all this time.

M: I see. So you’re another gentle soul, even if you have a markedly unpleasant way of expressing it. I will keep your offer in mind. Our minders permitting, of course. 

A: Your time is up. Please conclude your discussion.

M: It was interesting to meet you, Fordola. I’ll admit our conversation was stimulating, if nothing else. 

F: Don't kill yourself.  …Alright, I’m done. You can take me outside.

.

A copy of this report has been submitted to Commander Raubahn Aldynn as per the agreement between the Bozjan Resistance and Eorzean Alliance to flag anomalous behavior among conscripts and imperial defectors.

[bardspeak]

This is my piece for the zine celebrating 10 years of dishonored: Dunwall Days and Karnaca Nights! There are leftover sales going on here: (link) that have much much more than my little character study going on. (I recommend the notebook). @10yearsofdishonoredzine

Things Beyond Forgiveness | (ao3 link)

Billie was made by knife, and now there’s nothing she sees in her body anymore but the jagged shape carved. 

He was made by knife too, she thinks, watching the Outsider in their tiny, one-room apartment. A god once, held on high - now washing the dishes of all things. They had to buy metalware so when his shaking, unpracticed hands dropped them from the sink they wouldn’t shatter across the hardwood floor. Only irritate the neighbors. 

“I’m sure I’ve done this before,” The Outsider tells her, lips thin with displeasure at himself. He said the same thing about sweeping up porcelain shards with a broom or writing in the blocky hand of an illiterate dockworker. She can’t prove or deny these claims, so she takes them at face value, nods, and lets him continue in his failure. Sometimes she finds herself getting irritated, having to reteach an adult man how to do up his tie, but then she remembers Sokolov and his shaky, fading memory - a parallel that would have the Outsider steaming and ranting at her. 

The Outsider is neither physically old nor dependent, but something in the comparison softens her demeanor. There are people she’s taken care of before, and people she’s let take care of her. She reminds herself of this every time the Outsider goes to pick up the dishes after dinner with his quivering hands. She sits and watches this vestige of a life long past curse when his hand slips. Hum absently and splash water onto their floor. 

He struggles and doesn’t have the forbearance to hide it from her, but still, sometimes she uncharitably thinks he’s doing this much better than she is. That it’s unfair. There’s a capacity to hurt in her, one she faces every day when she sees the posters bearing her name, or looks carefully at the knife in her hand and in her heart. She doesn’t think she’ll ever stop facing it. 

They’re in a dark, cold alley a few blocks away from the apartment when the Outsider speaks up, voice quiet but weighted: “You’re not what you think you are.” 

“How so?” Billie takes a sharp drag of the cigarette in her hand before offering it over, the Outsider considering it like he’s never seen one before. They’ve smoked together a few times before, hazy trails of smoke drifting through the afternoon light peeking in through the window in their apartment. Never like this though, in the early hours of the morning when Billie gets back from one of her odd jobs, knife and crossbow slung low on her belt. She’s been a killer for decades, even before Daud - there’s nothing that will ever change that. But she can’t help listening, can’t even pretend to ignore him like she would have in the beginning. 

“You can’t change what you’ve done in the past,” The Outsider says, never having lost the uncanny ability to seem like he’s reading her mind. He pauses to take a puff of the cigarette and gives a little cough with weak lungs. Before, he would have been sent into a full-on fit. “But you can’t say you would have been here, would have survived, if not for your skills. You did what you had to.” He pauses, perhaps correctly guessing that she doesn’t want to hear it. He forges on anyhow. “Maybe you can thank yourself and move on. Find a new use for your skills.” 

A bitter little laugh bursts its way out of her, unwilling. “There’s no other use for skills like mine.” 

He touches her hand, not a slip of the fingers when passing a cigarette back and forth - still holding it in his other hand - or to pull her away from watching eyes. She never realizes how little the Outsider reaches out to touch until he has. It startles her from her bitter reflection. “Skills like yours,” he starts, unsettling pale green eyes catching her own and holding them. “Are what freed me.” 

He doesn’t go on like she expects him to - like she’s used to. The lack of words to hide in leaves her flayed open. The cigarette is pressed into her hand like an afterthought as he pulls away, heels clicking against the stones of the street towards their apartment, not even sparing a glance behind to see if she’s following him. 

Eventually, she does. 

The Outsider has a pile of things laid out over their creaky wardrobe in the corner of the room. Bottles, stones, shells, pieces of bone, and books that are more scraps of paper than bound tomes are strewn over the place. So many things she can hardly categorize them all. Billie had thrown some of them out when he first started, not knowing it was a collection rather than garbage laying about. He never said anything, but the same bottle - labeled with colorful, crackling packaging - was back on top of the wardrobe when she came in the next morning. 

One day, a flask slips through his traitorous fingers and crashes to the floor, glass pieces skittering to the far corners of the room. She watches as he crouches down and picks up one of the thicker pieces, twisting it in the light in a slender hand. There’s a spot of blood beading up on his bare foot. He stands, drops the piece of glass onto the wardrobe with the rest of his collection, and steps carefully over the rest to get to their broom. 

He’s used to things slipping through his fingers, she realizes, going through her days watching him. This isn’t a collection of prized possessions, he barely gives any of them but the books a glance on any given day and never upsets if they break or tear. They’re proof of life. That if he holds something in his hands it won’t turn to dust and fall away. When she looks, there’s a shard of a porcelain plate he must have squirreled away weeks before she first saw the bottle on the wardrobe.

Never claiming to be good with words - especially not when faced with a man who spent the better part of four thousand years with nothing but - she doesn’t broach the subject. 

She does, however, hand him a small painted cameo she found one day on a job. Despite it being her reason for doing so, she still startles when she sees it placed at the forefront of his collection. He places a book - newer, the covers wearing through on the corners but little other damage - on the windowsill she likes to sit in to smoke tobacco, something the Outsider still wrinkles his nose at. She finds a piece of glass placed just so, refracting color on the wall over her bed. 

After weeks, months, a turn of the season, whatever’s holding them together in this place hardly big enough to fit them still hasn’t worn through. It’s the longest she’s spent in the same space as someone since Sokolov - since Daud - and it surprises her how few times she has to get out because she feels stifled. 

She watches him pore over a waterlogged book of his. The binding is frayed around missing chunks, and he’s read it enough times to make his own narrative out of the empty spaces. Time has loosened his muscles, barefoot feet tucked up under his legs, sitting at their meager table and muttering under his breath. She picks at a loose thread of the binding with thin, voidrite fingertips and he lets her. 

“What should I do then?” She says, continuing the conversation like it hasn’t been months of them settling into whatever this is. If he doesn’t understand, then maybe she won’t have to say it. These jagged pieces she doesn’t let anybody touch can stay sharp along with the fear. The Outsider can keep filling in the gaps to stories he’ll never have the whole picture of, despite holding pieces in his trembling hands. Despite spilling the water that smears the ink.

He raises his head to look at her, eyebrows still pinched from reading with a slight myopia, and he understands. “I believe felling a god may be the peak of your achievements,” he tells her, closing his book with more of a crunch than a snap. Only the glint in his eyes reveals his teasing. “Have you ever considered settling down?”

She huffs out a laugh, not even trying to find it in herself to be offended at the notion. That she could put the knife down and never pick it back up. Not flinching away from the edges that have already been worn down. “I’ve never considered living long enough.”

“Well,” he sniffs, taking up the mantle of the offended. He opens his book again. “Start considering it.” 

“I’m sure I’ve done this before,” he says for the millionth time later that afternoon. Billie thinks what he actually means is live. She’s sure she has too, once. She thinks she might be doing it again. 

[the-z-part]

Sometimes I'm like, the Raffles stories aren't really as gay as I remember them. I've just built them up in my head so much, engaged with the shipping part of the fandom and lost perspective, and then I reread them and--

“Yet you said you would do anything for me! You asked me to name my crime! But I knew at the time you didn’t mean it; you didn’t go back on me to-night, and that ought to satisfy me, goodness knows! I suppose I’m ungrateful, and unreasonable, and all that. I ought to let it end at this. But you’re the very man for me, Bunny, the—very—man! Just think how we got through to-night. Not a scratch—not a hitch! There’s nothing very terrible in it, you see; there never would be, while we worked together.”

He was standing in front of me with a hand on either shoulder; he was smiling as he knew so well how to smile. I turned on my heel, planted my elbows on the chimney-piece, and my burning head between my hands. Next instant a still heartier hand had fallen on my back.

“All right, my boy! You are quite right and I’m worse than wrong. I’ll never ask it again. Go, if you want to, and come again about mid-day for the cash. There was no bargain; but, of course, I’ll get you out of your scrape—especially after the way you’ve stood by me to-night.”

I was round again with my blood on fire.

“I’ll do it again,” I said, through my teeth.

He shook his head. “Not you,” he said, smiling quite good-humoredly on my insane enthusiasm.

“I will,” I cried with an oath. “I’ll lend you a hand as often as you like! What does it matter now? I’ve been in it once. I’ll be in it again. I’ve gone to the devil anyhow. I can’t go back, and wouldn’t if I could. Nothing matters another rap! When you want me, I’m your man!”

from The Ides of March

[makemeanangelpure]

🩵May 30, 2024 - 113.0

🪽Day 1 of the 442 hour liquid fast

🤍I’m 13.5 hours in, 428 hours to go

☕️Today’s Cal limit: 140

I slept roughly 2 hours. Trouble falling asleep, waking up to pee every hour or thirty minutes and needing a minuscule sip of water. A little tired now but I’ll have my 5 hour energy and finish my 50 cal of coffee and go into a 7.5 hour shift. Truck day, so essentially 3 hours of cardio/weight lifting for me and 5 hours of on my feet slight lifting and reviving material. I’ll burn a good amount of extra calories today and tomorrow though, no truck then just the repackaging, maybe a few heavier things to haul around. I’m going to have one stall of celery when I get home. I’ll wait to have it at 7:42 pm where my partner can witness, alongside 2 baby carrots. That’ll put me at 75 cal for the day, and I get home around 1:30, so ill have a cup of tea while I wait for time to go, run the dishwasher and restock that, bath and shower, maybe wait to shave Thursday. Yesterday I drank a hard mike and a hard peach tea, ate a few things, threw up beforehand. Ended at 775. After I drank I didn’t have an urge to eat which is unusual but I’m assuming because I took medicine. It’s for adhd, not mine but I took it because I’d been thinking about it, thinking I might take one once a week and they’d never notice, just so I won’t get hungry. They’ve been taking it a few days and have been barely eating, I ate more than then the past two days and wanted to wring my own neck. They keep telling me about items of clothing getting looser, about our friends telling them they look like they lost weight, and they have, they do look different than a few months back. They’re taller than me and we’re in the 200-210 range and are now 189-199 and when you’re bigger, it comes off faster, it’s more noticeable. Really said something that messed with me yesterday.. and it was ignorance.. that if 10 pounds on me wasn’t that much different to them why would 10 more pounds be.. which they’ve seen pictures of me when I was 15-20 pounds lighter, they just haven’t been around me like that. I was heavier.. 10 pounds heavier than I am now when I started living here last year and if they don’t notice how I’ve dropped weight and my fucking face isn’t so round after just 10 pounds, I’ll just have to make them see and if anything they’ll feel a difference when they lift me up. Always picking me up around the house and carrying me places, jostling me but I want it to be easier. I want to hear them say that I feel lighter in some kind of form or fashion. The goal is to be 20 pounds lighter by June 28 so I’d be 93 which would break my old low weight:94, from 3 fucking years ago now. A baby shower on the 22 to go to so by then I’m going to try to be 97 for. The mother is someone who always copied me in highschool, and afterward and I just want her to really see how different we are. I also want to be the thinnest at a friend group gathering and I want her nosey mother to gossip to the others about how “ sick” I look. I want to eat a piece of cake with them and have it look seamless for me, because I’ll have worked hard to not worry about 350 cal of sugar for a day or whatever. To eat a little of what is made, not finish my food or my cake, and throw a tiny bit away.. like a quarter I guess. On Friday I’ll weigh and measure my waist, on the 22 I’m measure everything and then again on the 28. I last weighed last Friday so I’m going off that. My period seemed to skip a month but it’s irregular anyhow. My partner said it’s cause I’m not eating enough but I beg to differ. A lot of my days have been 1000-2000 days the past few weeks. I think it’s stress related. By the 28th, I’m going to drink again. Get blush wine and have two cups to celebrate things being better and I’ll be smaller and feel more put together, feel prettier when we get kissy buzzy and cuddle up close. Saturday I’m making a favorite dinner for them… I’m going to pick the smallest chicken for myself, cut it in half and then cut it into ( I’ll figure out how many pieces) 7 pieces of course 44 for a bite, 313 roughly for the whole chicken. One bite cause it’s a 75 cal day. I know he’ll cut it for me and be sweet.

[fruit-of-infidelity]

♱  DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Ryuuto | Dark 10  ♱

⌜ Scene: Ryuuto’s Studio ⌟

Yui: ( Uu… I was called to Ryuuto-san’s studio out of the blue… )

( He said something about a dress and a portrait? But, I didn’t get a chance to question him further. )

( After what happened last time we were alone together, I hesitated on going… )

( But I knew if I didn’t, things would only be worse for me the next time. )

Like… this?

―Yui steps out into view of Ryuuto in a new outfit. ―

Ryuuto: Aah… Exactly like that.

Her dress on you… Despite your frame being a little lacking for such a provocative outfit, you are still able to fill it out in all the places it needs to be.

And that colour… It really brings out your eyes.

Yui: Her…?

( More importantly… Did Ryuuto-san just compliment me? )

( Is that why I’m smiling? If he notices… I don’t think I would be able to withstand his teasing tonight! I should cut it out quickly! )

Ryuuto: It suits you perfectly. Wouldn’t you say so too, Father?

Richter: …Yes.

Yui: Eeh…!?

( Ryuuto-san’s… Father!? Was he here the whole time!? )

Ryuuto: Fufu… What is with that concerned expression, Pet?

If him seeing you changing is what you’re concerned about, I assure you that divider did its duty with keeping you covered.

Yui: I-It’s not that… It’s just…

Ryuuto: Aah, of course. You two haven’t been formally introduced yet, have you? My, where are my manners?

ーーThis is my Father, Sakamaki Richter. And I’m sure our guest needs no introduction to you, does she?

Richter: … …

Yui: ( Being introduced didn’t help the butterflies in my tummy at all…! The way he’s just staring at me so coldly is… creepy. )

Ryuuto: Anyhow, shall we begin?

Yui: I… suppose so.

Ryuuto: Very good. Then, drape yourself over that chaise lounge at once.

―Yui walks over, and lays upon the lounge. ―

Ryuuto: Adjust your leg a little this way…

Yui: My leg? Why do I need toーー

Ryuuto: ーーMouth shut, Pet. Now, move your hips a little that way. And, relax your shoulders; You’re far too stiff in your neck.

Yui: Aah… Ryuuto-san… This position feels very uncomfortable.

What’s more… Why am I sitting like this anyway?

Ryuuto: Good grief, is it not obvious…. You’re to be my muse.

Yui: You’re muse…!?

As in… You’re going to paint me? Like this…? Wearing this outfit!?

( If I’d had known, I would have put some light makeup on, or did my hair… )

( Wait, what am I saying…!? )

Ryuuto: Yes. I’ve been meaning to work on my female anatomy recently, and you’re serving little use elsewhere. It was the perfect excuse, was it not?

Yui: I see… So, that meansーー

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈  You think I’m beautiful?⎨M⎬

Yui: ーーRyuuto-san… You think I’m beautiful enough to be painted?

Ryuuto: …Oh?

Fufu, is that why you think I called you here, so urgently? Could that be why you’re smiling so widely, like that?

Yui: ( Eeh? I’m… smiling? )

Ryuuto: Don’t get this twisted now, you’re merely a stand-in for this painting.

Yui: Oh…

( I suppose I got ahead of myself but… thinking that I was being used as inspiration for Ryuuto-san’s painting makes me feel pretty. )

　　❈  You’re using me?⎨S⎬

Yui: You’re just using me, to improve your painting?

Ryuuto: The short answer would be yes.

Rest assured, though, I would not have chosen you if you weren’t up to standard. I only pick the best I can to feature in my works.

Yui: That’s not saying much when I’m the only woman around…!

( Wait, what did I say just now? I didn’t mean for that to slip…! )

Ryuuto: Aah, that feistiest sure takes me back, fufu.

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

Ryuuto: Now, now. That frown won’t do for this piece, and I don’t want to spend too long discussing such trivial matters. So, get back into position.

Yui: … …

Ryuuto: What is the matter? Are you zoning out on me? I said to get back into position.

Yui: Y-Yes…

Ryuuto: Good girl. Now, Father, if you will. Please take your place.

Richter: … …

― Richter takes a seat on the lounge as well, scooting close to Yui. ―

Yui: W-Wait, just a moment…!

( He’s sitting so close to me! His hand… He’s grasping so firmly onto my leg! )

Ryuuto: Quiet down. Can you not hold your tongue for a single minute?

I need absolute silence to get this outline right.

Yui: ( But… Ryuuto-san! )

Uu… …

( Richter-san’s hand... Is it creeping further up my thigh!? )

( Ryuuto-san, please tell me that you’re noticing this! )

Ryuuto: … …

Yui: ( He glanced to Richter-san’s hand! Thank goodness he saw! )

( Please, say something…! It’s going even higher…!! )

Ryuu…to-saーー

― Richter whispers to Yui. ―

Richter: That’s the expression.

Yui: …!

Richter: That pleading look, like you’re desperate… Ryuuto, be sure to capture this perfectly.

― He leans in to Yui, pulling her close. ―

Yui: S-Stop…!

Richter: Darling, look this way more, at me. Don’t take your eyes off mーー

Ryuuto: ーーStop.

Yui: …!

― Richter pulls away from her slowly. ―

Richter: I beg your pardon.

Ryuuto: I said stop. I won’t allow this.

Richter: And just why not?

Yui: ( Ryuuto-san… )

Ryuuto: … …

The graphite in this pencil seems to have snapped. You cannot expect me to produce a good portrait without the necessary equipment, can you?

A mistake on my part. I should have noticed earlier… forgive me.

Yui: No… way…

― Richter stands from the lounge now. ―

Richter: In that case, I trust you’ll sort it out quickly. I am not getting any younger.

Ryuuto: You don’t say…

Of course, Father.

I’ll send for you once everything is in order.

― He takes his leave. ―

Yui: … …

( Even though he said his pencil had broken… Something about his hardened gaze tells me that it was just an excuse. )

Ryuuto: Pet. Strip out of that dress, quickly now.

Yui: …Thank you.

Ryuuto: …That is quite enough out of you. You’re dismissed.

Yui: ( Thank you. )

⌜Monologue⌟

Whenever I find myself thrown into danger, it’s at the hands of Ryuuto-san.

And against my better judgement, I always fall right into these traps…

Yet, for some reason, I’m always shown a little bit of mercy ( 慈悲 ) at the last second by the very same man who jeopardized me to begin with!

Whether he feels pity for his prey, or whether it’s out of jealousy…

I have no way of knowing.

All I do know is that I shouldn’t be as grateful as I am,

Toward someone who is meant to be a Vampire.

But I can only hope that my thanks managed to alleviate those troubles ( おかげで悩み ) deep in Ryuuto-san’s heart, even if only a little.

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

←  [ ✥ Dark 09 ✥ ] ⎥ [ ✥ Dark Epilogue ✥ ]  →

[tetsuskei]

risu loved your hot take about smut.

also is it just me or like writing smut has always been relatively easier than fluff or even suggestive banter type shit? because in smut, you can bullet point- yeah they gonna do this and this and this and call it a day but fluff requires some depth. a perfect setting for the fluff or angst to actually be enhanced.

And according to each author’s writing style, they have to add imagery, or like metaphors or engaging dialogues to make it work. For me, when I was writing suggestive/banter related fics for kuroo or gojo, I was staring at the screen in despair so that my brain conjures some smart words or a perfect setting for them to act on. So it was relatively harder for me. And if other authors have faced such similar challenges and yet post majority sfws, you can guess the amount of hardwork they’ve put into it and would love for any sort of appreciation of their work. And

Im not downplaying smut authors by any means, every piece of writing takes up a fair share of effort and even I’ve had my fair share of challenges in writing smut too because firstly I experience high key embarrassment proofreading it and secondly, good smut requires the same criteria too (it’s just sfw fics gets the floor to portray a reader’s personality more than its nsfw counterpart) it’s just we want the audiences to interact with these posts with the same enthusiasm and not read and toss it aside :((

to our dear readers, Lores are fun. Just get yourself out of that sex bubble and you’ll see why a simple fic of having breakfast with nanami in scotland is actually so much fun to read and enjoy

happy reading!!

sami thank u for sending this! providing my thoughts under the cut.

i honestly am shocked by how many ppl commented on that. (someone said i was ‘insulting the intelligence of those who only read smut’ and was being ‘misogynistic’. i didn’t intend to do that, and think my words were taken out of context by that point, but it is what it is now.)

i do agree that with smut if i have an idea of the dynamic i want and what the characters might be into, i can plan a course of action for what is going to happen. sometimes i start w smut and then incorporate the plot later tbh.

you’re absolutely right, there’s nothing wrong with reading and writing smut. no one is any better if they don’t read smut than those who do. personally my comment was only towards the select who constantly intake content on here and aren’t always careful about what they read. even heavily more so towards the porn link posts too. hence why my original comment said ‘some’ because obviously it doesn’t apply to everyone.

i really do admire those who are able to world build so fluently and with great detail whether that is in smut or not. i agree with your point that it may be a bit more complicated to build a story without smut if you’re focusing more on characterization, personality, and setting. smut pieces that bring this to the table seem like the longer ones for the most part, but that doesn’t mean shorter ones can’t either. also i know it’s another tricky thing to mention is how people go about making their reader with personality or not bc ppl complain anyway anyhow when there’s something they can’t identify with.

at the end of the day i just wish to keep supporting ppls writing in general but also wish the tumblr community was more friendly like it used to be. a lot of ppl seem discouraged lately about their writing and i hope that things can get better soon.

(btw breakfast with nanami in scotland sounds heavenly! pls sign me up immediately <3)