#I need to write more stuff for them

[sinfulwrites]

Their Favorite Sex Positions

Hello hello~ I was scrolling my dash and came across @missjellyhead and her post on the same topic and wanted to write my own with my faves... Give their post some love! I messaged them for permission, but I'm not sure if they're active lately....

I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing again. Please accept this small drabble!

Enjoy!

NSFW warning.

Michael Myers: Michael is prone to having sex wherever he is. Why waste time going to the bedroom when he could fuck you now against the wall? Michael can hold you up effortlessly, so if your legs are getting tired, he will simply scoop up your legs and continue fucking you. If a table is nearby, Michael will bend you over it and fuck you from behind. If there’s anything on those tables, they will be rocked off by the strength of his hips. If you are in bed, though, he is still inclined to fuck you from behind. He feels more comfortable taking his mask off and biting on your shoulders when you can’t see his face.

Jason Voorhees: Sex is a sacred thing to Jason. His beliefs are rather traditional, and as such, his preference is missionary. In the bed, in a dark room where he can be comfortable taking his mask off and lavishing you with kisses. Jason is not opposed to other positions, but his go-to will always be missionary. In his mind, doggy style is the dirtiest.

Thomas Hewitt: Thomas was raised in a traditional home. He was taught that sex was purely for making a baby, and it would be done in missionary under the blankets. Meeting you and starting a sexual relationship had changed his views on the matter, but he is still inclined to fuck you in missionary. He loves the closeness, seeing the faces you made in response to what he did to you, and of course being able to kiss you. In the early mornings before his work, Thomas liked to pull you close against him and have some slow morning sex. Spooning you allows him to keep you even closer than missionary can, and allows him to have a shameless grab at your chest. There has also been more than one occasion of you two being outside the home getting in a quickie in Thomas’s lap. Riding him is a treat to him, as he has an obligation to himself to make you feel good. Knowing you want him to feel good gets him all emotional afterwards. Expect a tight hug and tons of kisses.

Asa Emory: When Asa fucks, he fucks hard. If the bed isn’t slamming into the wall, he’s not doing it right. Doggy style gives him the freedom to pound into you without your hips and thighs restricting him. His preference for anal also makes it even more appealing. Doing it from behind also gives him the freedom to slap your ass and yank your hair back to whisper in your ear about how much of a slut you are. Watching your face as he fucks you is also ideal, however, so if he fucks you from the front he shoves your knees into your chest to give himself complete access to slam his hips into you. He will use rope to tie your legs where he wants them so he can leave his hands free to choke you as his cock knocks the wind out of you. We would be here all day if we brought up all his bonds and sex chairs…

Jesse Cromeans: Jesse loves to see the faces you make as his cock slides in and out of you. He especially loves to make you see yourself with his mask. Spreading your legs and fucking you on your back is a safe position for him, but it is far from the only way he enjoys you. His favorite is fucking you in front of his giant mirrors. Jesse will bend you over on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind so he can pull your hair and make you watch in the mirror as his hips slam against your ass. He shamelessly enjoys being ridden and will happily prop himself up on his pillows and let you ride away. He loves to film you riding his cock, and he will definitely have you watch the tape with him later. Other days, he will have you ride in reverse to watch it in his mirrors. In the back of his car, he loves to make you ride him until the car is rocking. 

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[lipshits-continuous]

Something about maths that'll never not amaze me is how sometimes you'll read a certain topic and it'll be kinda out of reach, like you kinda get the idea but the details go over your head. But then a few months later you'll come back to it and somehow it makes so much more sense. Maybe it's cause you've realised something that makes it click or sometimes you'll have learnt other things and it'll put it in a new perspective. And it's honestly one of the best feelings

[sforzesco]

fascinating staging happening here

[bvckbiter]

fandom talks too little about hylla and reyna. reyna killed her father when she thought he'd killed hylla. hylla dragged them out of puerto rico and found them sanctuary and employment on circe's island AND became one of circe's favorites. then when they got captured by blackbeard hylla also got them out of that situation by out-pirating literal immortal pirates. then in a span of three years, they split up, found their own ways to the amazons and cj, and became the leaders of their respective factions. when hylla's queenship was being threatened by otrera in son, she plotted a counter-coup and defeated an amazon queen who couldn't die two nights in a row in one-on-one combat, THEN led her cavalry to camp jupiter. (ik this woman slept like a corpse for a week afterwards). hylla used reyna as an absolutely ruthless bait-and-switch to capture orion, and all reyna said in response to that was, "bet." reyna carries insurmountable amounts of both guilt and gratitude towards her sister. even though they havent seen each other in a while, hylla still drops everything and does everything in her power to save her baby sister when she knows reyna needs her.

[buttercupshands]

one of the first sketches I did for the au finally got from the not-so-lined stage

I just wanted to draw Siffrin and Seafoam mirroring each other :)

[perpetualcynicism]

“Shikanoin-sama, I am trying to pray. I would be very grateful if I were able to do so in peace.”

“Sorry, sorry. Of course.” A pause. “It’s just that you look so… yummy.”

You withhold a sigh. In a controlled manner, you say, “Shikanoin-sama, please refrain from having thoughts of cannibalism while inside the shrine.”

“Ah, it’s not cannibalism, though,” he points out. “I’m not human, remember?” The statement is accompanied by a flick of his ears.

“Please refrain from having thoughts of eating me while in the shrine,” you rectify evenly. The exasperation you feel does not leak out into your tone.

You can almost hear the kitsune’s pout forming on his face. “…Not even a bite? One little bite? One tiny little bite?” He leans over and pinches his thumb and forefinger together beside your head for demonstration, in case the original message was unclear. 

You reply, “I cannot stop you, Shikanoin-sama. However, if you do so, I will need to ask you to leave.”

“Aw…” His footsteps retreat somewhere behind you. When there is silence, you breathe out and empty your mind, refocusing on your prayer. 

O-Inari-sama…

You feel a soft puff of air on the back of your neck. The hairs on your nape prickle and stand on end; you suppress the shudder that arises. 

You crack your eyes open to cast Shikanoin a stern look. He is standing a few paces away, looking around the shrine’s interior in an exaggerated display of distraction. When he meets your eye, he pulls a surprised face. “What are you looking at me for?” he asks in a tone of complete innocence. “It must have been the wind. It’s very breezy in here, you know.” 

You purse your lips and shut your eyes, thinking, Inari give me strength. 

Just as you have settled back into focus, you feel it again, this time tickling the outer shell of your ear. With a curt sigh, you straighten your back, turning to face him. “Shikanoin-sama, I am afraid must ask you to leave.”

He pulls back from your side. “What? But that wasn’t even biting!”

“Now,” you enunciate, before adding, “Please.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” the kitsune grumbles. He walks backwards out of the shrine, taking slow and deliberate steps. His hands are held out in front of him, his four tails bowed down behind him, as if that is sufficient to convince you of his sincerity. “See? Oh—but before I do go, tell me—are all miko this stingy?”

The urge to return a piece of his tormenting behaviour is irresistible. You allow a drip of sardonicism to enter your voice. “No, only me,” you say without looking at him. “So it is a pity that I am the one you ended up bound to, isn’t it?”

You cannot be certain how your remark is received, so you steal a glance in his direction. To your mild surprise, the kitsune is smiling as he steps outside of the doors.

Once certain you are alone, you decide it best to start the prayer anew. You bow twice, then clap your hands. Pressing your palms together, you mumble, “O-Inari-sama, I do not know why you have sent your messenger to me, nor how I ought to respond to his behaviour. I will admit he does not align with what I expected of a divine spirit, but… I trust there is a reason for this. Please grant me the patience and strength of will to accept his wisdom, and if nothing else, please allow me to retain my privacy in his presence. You are the one who understands most deeply its importance to me.”

You linger in silence for a moment longer. A draft of wind brushes past and rustles the sakura growing outside the shrine. It is breezy here with the spring wind ushering in, you must admit. You bow deeply in front of the altar once more before making your way to the exit.

[shitpostingkats]

The Nibelheim Incident is in part so captivating because even with two to three eyewitnesses, the exact exact sequence of events can still be hard to pin down and requires a fair bit of dot connecting on the audience's part. Did Cloud ever leave the town that night, or was he right in the thick of it when the fire started? In what order did every important party enter the reactor? Which of Cloud's memories are actually wholly his or Zack's and which are a blend of the two?

It's event we'll never exactly know down to everyone's movements, because the strange mix of Cloud's own perceptions of the night, and the fact that both Cloud and Zack are unreliable narrators.

Which is cool as hell from a storytelling perspective, but makes the entire thing a minor undertaking to write fanfic about.

[promise-of-soup]

Can you make out of the same Affection HC's with Taiga ?? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE !!??? pretty pleaseeeee

Yes of course! hehehe, I wanted to mention (I am being quite slow with asks and general writing because I am busy with doing academic stuff lololol) that I am doing this for all the characters, slowly lol. I was requested to do Obscuary a while ago, if the person who requested it sees this: Heya, I am working on it lololol :)

Anyhow, Taiga.

◘Summary: How does Taiga show affection? and also how does he receive affection? does he shoot you? with affection? well, let's find out...

◘Tags: Fluff, not inherently romantic but yeah?, non-spesific gender or descriptor for the MC, lots of swear words? idk Taiga is a person man.

╭┉┈◦ೋ•◦❥•◦◦ೋ•◦❥•◦

Taiga is regarded as one of the last Ghouls anyone wants to mess with, he can simply look in a given direction and clear it from any passing students or even staff members, just because he's unhindged to the point of being scary. That doesn't mean he is not affectionate though, not that he's affectionate in a standard, typical way either...

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Showing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

He's very rough. VERY.

No matter if he's happy or angry, he is always very rough, doesn't calculate how rough his movements are, and doesn't care to fix it.

So he just kinda grabs you(?)

Like, no warning either. You're just standing in his general proximity and all of a sudden he just grabs your waist and pulls you to his side to keep you there.

Will not say anything, he will just do this and keep doing whatever it was he was doing.

He's very hard to read, and he does not communicate any of his intentions or reasonings, but you can tell he likes you since:

1. he remembers your name more than other people

2. he does the grabbing you thing every time you're around.

He will do it in any situation, so even if you're on a mission, he will suddenly grab you and is hold your waist really tightly while pointing a gun at someone and laughing scarily. It can be frightening if you're not used to it, but if you spend a lot of time around him you're probably going to get used to it.

This is it by the way, this is how he shows affection: grabbing you. the end, but it does change slightly based on the situation...

If you're with him in the casino, he will pull you to sit beside him so that your thighs are touching and then he'll roughly grab your hair and keep his hand there. If he's feeling like he wants to make the other people around the table jealous or is just otherwise feeling posessive, he will put his hand on your thigh instead of your hair and make sure it is very visible to everyone else.

He might loudly ask you if you like it so everyone hears it, or if he's really feeling unhindged he will "whisper" something dirty to you...

HE IS VERY POSESSIVE. VERY.

If someone looks at you for too long you're now sitting on his lap and he's holding your waist roughly and telling you you're his, doesn't matter if you're actually together or not, he will just do this.

If someone was flirting with you or looking at you for too long, he will go stand very close to that person and tell them to "back off."

They will.

He will smile at you afterwards.

Also, if you end up in his room you are not leaving, ever. He will hold you in place if you try to leave, doesn't understand you have a life lmfao.

His only other form of affection is roughly telling you you're his.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Receiving˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The only way to show him affection is to let him grab you. You have a single chance to escape his affection (when he just starts doing it) otherwise he will never stop doing it lol.

Believe it or not, he hates being touched, so if you try to hug him or hold his hand, or even just stand close to him, he will go away and he will push you back.

BUT, if he grabbed you, and then you do something like pat his head or hold him back, he'll be fine with it and will like it.

As I said, it is very hard to read him, so if you like him you just have to let him do whatever he wants pretty much and get as much out of it as possible.

He's also a reverse psychology guy as we see in canon, so if you want him to do anything tell him not to do it, and then he will.

Like "Taiga, don't hold my hand." and then he will say "Don't tell me what to do" and hold it.

Likes when you sleep over, again, as long as he's holding you, and will enjoy it if you play with his hair, BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE ALONE.

he has no shame about anything though, so if he's in the right mood (quite rare) and if he initiated it first, he'd be fine with you being all over him in public, and would actually like it just to show you off.

[basket-of-radiants]

Why were you so disappointed by Rhythm of War?

This has been sitting in my askbox for years. I've taken several cracks at answering, only to get frustrated with the subject matter and burn myself out every time. I didn't like Rhythm of War. More than that, I didn't like it in a way that tainted my enjoyment of the entire series. And despite what it may seem, I don't actually enjoy discussing things which I don't like. I always want to talk from a place of good faith. Which is why now that my feelings towards the series are a little more positive, I think I can finally answer this.

I'm going to try to stay away from specific plotpoints and story beats for this post, because my goal isn't to nitpick (if for no other reason than it would take a week to write this post), I'm just looking to talk about my overall impressions. I think that might mean the only spoilers here will be structural? idk, if you haven't read Rhythm of War yourself then you should probably do that before looking for other people's opinions anyway. 

I liked Way of Kings when I first read it. I didn't love it at the time, but I liked it. Certainly enough to keep reading once I'd finished. One thing that made me a bit uncomfy, however, was the war against the Parshendi. They were this unknowable enemy which the book was not interested in knowing. An inhuman army. Their main purpose was to kill Kaladin's friends, or else be killed by Dalinar's armies. And yet the Parshendi, and the parshmen in the form of Shen, did show hints of personhood. And so it bothered me how Dalinar spoke so casually about how the Alethi had decimated their numbers, how the others used the war as a means to amass wealth and power. (It didn't bother me in a "this is a bad book" way but in a "these characters are bad people" way.)

One of my foibles as a reader is that when a book is very clearly treating one side of a conflict with more humanity, I tend to be a bit predisposed towards the other to account for that. And with the Alethi clearly being the invading party and superior military force, there was also some underdog favoritism. I didn't really like how the book treated the Parshendi. This is to say that going forward, the singers would be more important to me than any other through line.

So imagine my delight at reading Words of Radiance and meeting Eshonai, one of the Parshendi, who even gets her own point of view sections! They were no longer being treated as a faceless mass, we were getting to see things from their perspective as well. And it became plain to see the damage the Alethi had done to them. I couldn't really bring myself to root for Dalinar or really any of the humans against the listeners. I couldn't even bring myself to like most of these characters. I still enjoyed the book but once it became clear there wouldn't be a peaceful conclusion, let's just say that I wouldn't have wept for Dalinar and Adolin if Szeth had managed to off them. Like everyone in the book, I assumed that going forward all the parshmen would be turned into evil voidbringers in the everstorm and that the listeners were mostly dead. Except for Rlain, and Eshonai because I'd read or been told that book 4 would be Eshonai's book and thus had assumed she was fine. (Oathbringer spoilers, she was not fine.) So ultimately it was still a bit of a downer way to end the book. 

So imagine my delight at reading Oathbringer, where for the first time singers were being treated as people, full and real people, and where the human characters could no longer ignore or dismiss them. We met Khen and the others, common singers who were sympathetic and just wanted freedom from bondage. We see Venli grapple with the loss of her home. We see Leshwi and Moash connecting with and understanding one another. We learn of a history where singers were the original inhabitants of the planet. Parallel to this, Dalinar is having a truly excellent character arc about confronting one's past actions and acknowledging them to move forward and do better. I loved Oathbringer, for some years it was my favorite book, and I was excited as hell to see what came next. At the time, it seemed to me that there is a clear direction the story is going. Two books about needless war, and then a third where the main cast is forced to acknowledge the personhood of their enemies. This was so cool, all of my feelings from the previous installments were being validated, the characters were going to have to face what they've done in the past and outgrow their militaristic mindsets, I was so sure of that.

Imagine my disappointment when that does not even remotely resemble the direction the story went in Rhythm of War. RoW presented a clear, straightforward “us vs. them" narrative, where every character was totally fine with killing singers. Characters aligned with the singers were either flattened into wholly evil versions of themselves (Moash) or were expected to turn on their side in favor of the humans (Venli.) Because clearly there was no reason good people would be on the side that's all former slaves trying to stay free. Maybe there's some sort of accord or understanding between Navani and Raboniel that I might have found meaningful if the seeds of mutual understanding weren't already there in Oathbringer and then apparently ignored for a year by all the characters.

I have a lot of issues with how the listeners are handled in these books. (Here's some elaboration.) Following OB, I had thought that all my concerns were going to be addressed. Following RoW, I knew they never would be. 

Which is my main complaint, because that's the thread that matters most to me in this series.

I have a lot of other Things as well. Gonna just talk about a few big ones. 

One outsized source of disappointment that may seem a little petty, and which probably is, is that I felt mislead by the premise of the book. It had been announced that this book would center Venli and Eshonai, and I was unbelievably hyped for that. That did not really turn out to be the case. The purpose for their backstory chapters felt less about exploring them as people and contextualizing their arcs, and more about filling in gaps of world history. In the main plot, Venli was a POV character and she certainly played a role, but honestly not a very important one overall. To me she felt like a side character in her own book. I don't think it's controversial to say that the main character of RoW was Navani. A lot of people really like Navani and are happy about that. Unfortunately I'm not one of those people, and I found it all the more difficult to enjoy her when it felt like it was coming at the expense of some of my favorite characters. 

This particular gripe somewhat comes down to preference, obviously everyone prefers to read about characters they like more than those they don't, and it can go both ways. (For instance, on a craft/technical level RoW is probably the superior book to W&T, but I liked the latter a lot more because of my stupidly outsized attachment to Szeth and Nale.) But I do think there's something of a real criticism in how the book would rather focus on the feelings of a queen rather than those of a genocide survivor, and how the former's are given significantly more weight and import. It ties in with my main criticism, I think. 

And then there's how human/human racism had also been wholly cast aside as a plot point. Jasnah fixed slavery so that's resolved, and the only person who still cares about structural racism is the evil bad bad evil villain Moash/Vyre, who is now wholly irredeemable and who you're allowed to totally write off because he's sold his soul to Odium. I've already talked a lot about this. Other people have already talked about this, probably better than me. The writing was actually on the wall for me in OB, but again, RoW was when I fully accepted that this was never going to be addressed. 

There's something else that probably deserves its own discussion rather than being quickly tacked on at the end here, but here we are. This book changed how the series approaches war. 

In WoK, war was very clearly portrayed as a bad and inglorious thing. It was brutal, it was painful, those at the bottom died cruelly and unceremoniously and pointlessly while those at the top turned a profit. Every day was a new horror. The enemy were never evil, they were always just more people forced to go through the same thing. Through the next couple books, it felt to me that even if the characters had accepted war as necessary, there was still a tragedy to it. Conversely, in RoW (and W&T) war is basically a series of boss battles, in between which our protagonists can kill dozens of footsoldiers with barely a thought in the same way WoK had criticized.

Final note on all this, it sucks how we have no perspectives from the former-slaves-singers demographic. Those guys are really thrown under the bus, and seemingly get no self-determination now or ever. It was a glaring problem to me in RoW. Conscripted and enslaved humans and singers probably have just as much ground to form mutual understanding as a fused and a queen. (In fact they already had. In Oathbringer.)

In essence, RoW disappointed me because it left me with the distinct impression that none of the series's most important through lines (well, most important to me) were going to be resolved well. I liked W&T, but I haven't revised my opinion very much about the overall handling of these topics across the series. Maybe one of the reasons I was able to enjoy W&T so much more was because I no longer had such high expectations.

[slurp-imagines]

Kamo Noritoshi - Just classmates, just an accident.

Summary: Reader tripped in front of Noritoshi and he accidentally saw up their skirt. It's been hours and it's still on his mind.

A/N: this was written for my OC originally, just removed names. so it's a female reader wearing a skirt. kind of works as a self-insert if you're okay with she/her pronouns.

Tags: NSFW/18+, M/F, masturbation, one-sided feelings / not in relationship, 3rd person narration

Words: 1,279

He feels disgustingly perverted. But he can't stop thinking about it.

They were in the wooded training zone together for a simple class exercise in the early morning. It was hours ago. She's tripped and fallen a little ways ahead of him. And he hadn't tried to look. It was natural to look at unexpected movement happening right in front of him.

She'd stood up and laughed it off with only the faintest hints of warmth in her cheeks, knowing he'd seen and knowing it couldn't be changed.

It was hours ago, though. He had gone through multiple other classes. Eaten lunch. Taken an exam. Went through his after-school training. Completed his school day with all the diligence and care to detail that everyone would expect from him.

Silently putting great effort into staying on task. Into forcing that single, erotically persistent mental image away from his attention.

The way the fabric hugged her butt, framed by the pleats of her skirt. He actually didn't see that much, and that somehow makes it harder to forget. The way his eyes quickly traveled up her thighs and then between them, the sharp pang of guilt before he finally forced his gaze away. He's wrong for looking – she isn't his to look at.

But he wants her to be. So, so badly. As soon as he's alone in his dormitory, the memory creeps back into his attention. This time he lets it stay there. He locks his door and doesn't bother turning on the lights, just undresses and goes straight into his shower room and starts the water.

To his credit, he does reconsider for a moment while his member twitches between his thighs, growing harder. Is it fair to do this? Is it fair to her?

I guess you aren't the worst option, she'd told him. I woulda maybe died if it was one of the first-year guys.

That must mean she wouldn't mind, no…? Yes? She was embarrassed, but she wasn't upset with him. She would have hated it if the first-years had seen, but if it was him– since it was him, she was okay with it. That's what she meant, wasn't it? This wasn't wrong, was it?

After just a moment's hesitation, Noritoshi's hand moves between his legs, grasping his erection. He was already almost full mast, just thinking about her. To think she has this much of an effect over him…

He sighs out, turning to face the wall and leaning his arm against it as he begins slowly stroking himself. Hot water pelts his back as he closes his eyes and focuses on the mental image of her, on all fours on the forest floor, the skirt of her dress haphazardly tossed up over her hips. What would she have looked like if she'd wanted him to stare longer? He thinks of her coy expressions, the beautiful curl of her lips when she wants to get a reaction out of him. Imagining her there, perking her ass up and spreading her legs for him, blushing just like he saw her today, smiling invitingly like she always does…

He moans, a soft hum low in his throat. His hand curls his palm around the tip and twists slightly. Precum quickly coats his fingers, dribbling down the rest of his cock. He gives himself a few full strokes, smearing it over himself, delighting in the smooth glide that results.

What he'd seen of her ass was just as beautiful and enticing as the rest of her. He wishes he could have touched her, the cleft where thigh meets her rear, the valley between her legs. Wishes he could have moved her panties to the side, seen pink folds beneath pink fabric…

He puts his hand back on the head, thrusting into the tunnel of his fingers. Imagining himself on his knees with her in the forest, pushing his cock into the tunnel of her warmth instead. She'd cry out his name. Kamo-kun? Noritoshi? It didn't matter. He just wanted to feel her, warm and wet and squeezing him. Wanted her to take him, to want him.

She would be welcoming but demanding, the same as she's always been. She'd let him fuck her until he couldn't anymore. She'd whine and moan and call out his name from between her glossy, plush lips, she would tell him she needs more, faster, harder, and he would give it to her as soon as she asked. Because no matter how much he pretends, deep down he knows he can't deny her anything. In fact, he wants to give her everything she could ever ask for. He would, if he could.

"Y-Y/N..."

He can't help calling out for her, too, though his voice remains quiet underneath the spray of water. He imagines his hands pushing her skirt further up, until he could grip the bare skin of her waist, pulling her body back onto his cock. Watching her ass bouncing off his hips, his member disappearing into her soft pussy over and over again.

He wishes he could give her this, make her feel this touched and pleasured. Wishes he could make her blush and beg until she came all over him, overcome by the feelings he'd aroused in her. He imagines her collapsing onto the ground after he's finished with her, turning herself over and smiling up at him, breathless and sultry, legs spread wide and fingers spreading herself even wider. His load dripping out of her hole. It's erotic and it's obscene, it's– he needs it, needs her, needs her to want him–

Noritoshi stifles his groan into his arm while his cum paints the wall in front of him with thick, creamy droplets. Hot semen dribbles down his fist while he trembles and fucks his hand in a restrained, twitchy rhythm, slowly winding down from his peak.

Noritoshi breathes in and out of his mouth once he feels he has his voice back under control. A new sense of shame washes over him when he opens his eyes and stares at the mess he'd made of the shower wall. He takes one of the wrappings out of his hair – he was so preoccupied he forgot to even remove them – and uses that to wipe it off. He'd just throw it out afterward, he has plenty to spare. There is just no way he could continue wearing the remnants of what he'd just done.

But at least now that he's gotten it out of his system, he can forget about that image properly. At his age, this was just something he had to take care of sometimes. He wasn't wrong for it.

And she would forgive him even if she knew, anyway… She'd said it herself, that he wasn't the worst option. She had laughed it off before, she would do it again.

This wasn't a bad thing that he'd done. It was just… all of it, an accident.

Tomorrow, he will be normal again. His thoughts clear, attention focused where it's actually meant to be.

He will be normal. And they will just be classmates again.

He turns back into the shower spray, and tries hard to ignore his disappointment.

[jon-sedai]

And remember kids, the next time someone tells you, "George R. R. Martin wouldn't make Jon Snow the typical fantasy hero because that's cliche".....

Oh yes he would!

One viewer wants to know what character would you play (on the show)? GRRM: If I could magically clap my hands and become a different person, it would be cool to play Jon Snow who's much more of the classic hero. Everybody wants to be the classic hero! ABC Interview, 2014

GRRM: And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Meduza Interview, 2017

In fact he already has ☺️

[vampirefunkmetal]

clocking in for another nightshift at the "making fun of remmick nolastname sinners (2025)" factory

[littleoddwriter]

can't stop thinking about Dmitri choosing what Sergei wears for the birthday dinner; especially because he does it in a manner that is so indescribably hot to me. (the way he looks him up and down, smiles almost condescendingly, but is clearly excited, tells him off for wearing what he does and wanting to stay in, almost whining about how it's his birthday and so obviously Sergei has to comply, already having a fitting suit ready at hand, etc.)

and so I'm just over here and absolutely running with that because nobody can tell me that Dmitri wouldn't do that with his partner, as well.

just- Dmitri choosing your outfit when he's going out with you (or for other occasions, or even generally), and you're both loving it because it's casual yet intimate, and it's also a great act of love and affection because in order to dress somebody in a way that makes them comfortable and happy you have to know them so deeply that it's transcending.

[lululocomo]

I love how the asks to the New Past AU at the moment are on both MK and Wukong being the most insane idiots out there and Macaque's the only sane one-

YEAH I'M HAVING A BLAST DRAWING THEM BEING STUPID

the three of them are sharing a single braincell and Macaque is hoarding it most of the time 😭

Making silly scenarios of them being idiots is just so fun ✨

But that doesn't mean there will not be a pinch of suffering and angst in this AU >:)

[whimzycle]

Hi Whimzycle! I'm a HUGE fan of your art, it makes my days brighter and I absolutely love how you draw Aster! <3 I started enjoying ROTG and the GOC saga again and I was wondering if you felt comfortable sharing your top 3 fanfics! :)

Thank you so much!

Daawwee thank you!! I appreciate it!! I used to be intimidated when it comes to drawing Bunny but lo and behold, he is the only one that I drew the most out of all the rotg cast lmao.

As for fics though...[Sweats in majority of the rotg fics I read are Jackrabbit centric]

I'll try to keep it as neutral as possible though lmao

Top 1. Prelude to Time Feelers by atimefeeler

I'm sorry I know I said I'll keep it neutral but I really can't help it. It's a really good fic, Jackrabbit notwithstanding. In my defense, the romance isn't really romancing, really they're more queer platonic that's why I like it very much. This fic is so good, genuinely. It's a reimagine of events that happen in both the book series and the movie. The fusion of both media is really well-done and it's world-building even more so! It features perspectives from Mother Nature, Bunnymund and Jack. So like, essentially, you get Mother Nature's backstory, Bunny's backstory and Jack's pov all in one chapter. It's great I love it. High tier, 10/10 fic. Though if you really aren't comfortable with the Jackrabbit part of it, it's cool. I still think you should give it a try lmao.

Top 2. My Stars and Your Valleys by ketren

This is one of the really cool ones lmao. It's a science-fiction au!!! Almost like the likes of Star Trek but it feels more like a treasure planet for me lmao (I've never seen star trek, I'm sorry I'm a degenerate lmao) One of the things that I really like about this fic is how well it incorporates elements of the movie into this fic like oh my god. Especially Jack's initial relationship with the guardians is almost like the movie and it's good, it's great I love it. Oh and the plot!! Goddamn the plot!! It's so eerie and mysterious and I love it. It keeps you interested for the entire duration of the fic, wondering what the hell is happening lmao. But oh! I most love Jack's relationship with his sister, even though it's only at the first and last chapters lmao. They're so good, I love how complex it is. It's a high tier, 10/10 fic!!! Please read it!!!!! It's so good!!!!!!!

Top 3. 188 Hugs by Icka M Chif (mischif)

Affectionate Guardians are my weakness and this fic exploits my love for it. Also, it's Jack and Bunny centric so it's a two-for two punch of things that I love. The title says it all when it comes to the plot lmao. It's essentially an exploration of Jack and Bunny's friendship through hugging lmao. It's a great fic high tier, 10/10. (Although really, any fic from this author is a 10/10) I love how it tackles the Jack is lonely for 300 years bit and the only way to dismantle that is through the power of friendship and found family. Really, the only solution to everything. And I love it, it's great, it's amazing and I feel so much joy over this fic. I really don't need to explain much lmao. This fic is just so good, I'll let it explain itself for you. So please!! Read it!!! So you can experience the immense joy I had when reading it lmao!!!!!!

Now, I know you only said my top 3, but I'm adding honorable mentions because it is a crime if I do not include any of them:

Sparks Fly by Icka M Chif (mischif)

Naughty and Nice by Icka M Chif (mischif)

Not a Guardian by Icka M Chif (mischif)

Advent, Advection by pengiesama

Selenographia, sive Lunae descriptio by pengiasama

Looming Shadows by Reidluver

Nights and Nights Again by partingxshot

When Hope Gives Way to Joy by taizi

Other Ways by Asidian

Unique by Asidian

Learning to See by emeralddawn

Mischief Managed followed by April Fools by Neyiea

Allegro Non Molto by tablrcloth

Flower Prompt: Yarrow by melissae-astron

Like a Star by Lunermoon1000

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