#Meant to save as a draft :P

[doodle17]

I dont mean to be stirring up old drama and I don't want this post to go crazy so I'm not tagging it with anything big just using the tags to ramble. I just want to tell anyone who follows me please PLEASE do NOT interact with 2hoots and/or block them if you have to because they've made some really bad stuff on their NSFW account especially of their future AU apparently

I know it might be a gray area for some people considering it's a somewhat well developed AU or something, but they also made some... Very proship-y vibes stuff?? I've only heard about it happening once though idk if they've made more. I'm also using proship lightly because they never outright said they're a proshipper

But don't you dare harass or attack them because istg if you do I will fucking GET YOU

Just- don't interact

[x-noirangel-x]

I made a collage of my favourite person and I! ( ^ _ ^ )

[crispycreambacon]

If you were a fish, what do you think you'd be?

Now me personally, I'd love to be this

I mean look at it. Look at how gay it is. Me for real.

[hysteria-things]

COULD U POSSIBLY MAKE A MATT FIC BASED OFF OF THIS TIKTOK OR SONG (YOU CAN DECIDE IF U WANT IT TO BE SMUT OR NOT IF U DO MAKE ONE) https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8wp5H2t/

🔗

MY OH MY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you get into a pickle when you get poured on, but don’t worry… somebody comes to save you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, p in v, ass grabbing, faux sympathy, cum eating (🙈)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,400

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: meant to post earlier but tumblr decided to close the draft without saving as i was proofreading/editing🤣

hope you enjoy @sluttyformatt :)

rain trickles down your hair to your shoes; workout clothes soaked.

you wanted to go on a late-night walk, then suddenly it started pouring out of nowhere. currently, you’re standing under a roof edge, arms crossed while you wait for your ride.

your brother isn’t around to pick you up, so your last resort was his best friend. he’s your brother’s age, who’s two years older than you. he’s known him ever since high school, yet your mother always said matt was a bad influence.

although, you do see where she’s coming from. matt was the type to always get in trouble in school, and overall he’s just a big grump. he’s only been nice to you, your brother, and of course his siblings.

headlights glow down the street, getting closer until the minivan stops in front of you. you quickly head over to it, open the door, and get in on the passenger’s side. “hi matty!” you beam. “thank you so much for picking me up. i didn’t know it was going to rain.”

he looks at you, wearing the leather jacket he’s had for as long as you can remember.

he truly doesn’t understand how you can be so happy no matter what, even if you are drenched in water. “you should’ve checked the weather before you left.” he mumbles, putting the car in drive.

“well, it was sunny all day. i didn’t expect rain. it’s okay, though. it’s like a surprise shower.” you smile, fastening the seatbelt.

“uh oh,” you say, looking through your fanny pack that you have strapped to your stomach.

he sighs, still focusing on the road. “what is it now?”

“i may or may not have left my keys home and locked myself out. nobody’s home.” you lick your teeth. “can i come to your place until my brother picks me up? pretty please, matty?”

“fine.” he inhales sharply. “and stop calling me matty.”

it’s silent as you two sit on the couch. your brother texted you saying he’ll let you know when he’s on his way, but god knows how long that’ll be. (despite it being almost midnight)

matt notices a shiver, taking his eyes off of his phone to look. your hands rub up and down your arms trying to warm up, but the chattering of your teeth indicates that it isn’t helping. “go to my room and grab one of my hoodies and pajama pants. they should be in my dresser.” he says coolly.

you smile. “it’s okay, i can wait. i’m fine.”

“put them on.” he demands. “you’re soaking wet and freezing.”

staring at him, he keeps staring back because of your silence. “go.”

you sigh like a child, getting up from the couch and walking down the hallway into his bedroom.

matt’s clothes are far too big on you, but you do feel warmer and more comfortable. his pants hang low just past your waistline. the hoodie on the other hand is long, causing the sleeves to give you sweater paws.

you sit on the chair he has in the corner, scrolling on your phone. matt can’t help but stand at the doorway, watching you.

not in a creepy way, but the fact you’re wearing his clothes has his dick reacting from the view. the way it’s too big for your body turns him to fuck on.

he cannot feel this way toward you. your his best friend’s sister, for god’s sake. but he can’t help it.

“feel better?”

you get startled by his voice. “yes, thank you.”

“told you so,” he grumbles.

rolling your eyes playfully, you stand up. “i didn’t mean to linger in here. i got distracted.”

as you start to walk by him, he grabs onto your shoulders to stop you. your breath hitches at the feeling of his rings; the way they drag down your arm makes you subconsciously clench your thighs together.

his cologne floods your nostrils, and the way he’s looking at you is different now.

he’s always been a grumpy kid and had a resting bitch face, but now he’s looking at you seductively and with need.

the hand that was on your arm now cups the front of your neck. there’s no pressure, but the fingers with no rings go over your bottom lip.

he sighs sympathetically. “it sucks that you’re off limits. i would so fuck you right now.”

your eyebrows raise high from the sudden courage he had to just blurt that out. however, you smirk.

“if you kiss me.” you shrug. “i might let it happen.”

he groans, leaning down to smash his lips on yours.

still intact, you grab his jacket and pull him in closer, your bodies moving at the same rhythm.

he starts to push you back to where the chair is, turning you 180° so he’s the one sitting in it while you straddle his lap.

your hips grind, rubbing just the right spot on not only you but him also. you smile into the kiss when you feel him hardening beneath you.

tugging at the pants you're wearing, he pulls away. “take these off.”

you shimmy them down your legs as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his bottoms down below his thighs. he grabs your hips to hover you over him, but stops and teases the tip.

you wiggle to get some friction as he smirks. “manners.”

“please.” you whine. “please let me ride your cock. i’m so fucking wet for you.”

matt sinks you slowly onto him, your walls immediately stretching to his size. “i didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth.”

you mumble something into his chest, bouncing uncontrollably on his dick. your sweater paws ball up on his biceps. your ass slaps repeatedly on his skin, the sound echoing off the walls.

he tuts, grabbing your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. “why so quiet?”

“stop.” you mewl, nuzzling your face even deeper into his body. your face is hot from embarrassment.

“is somebody embarrassed to be fucking her brother’s best friend? it looks like ms. goody-two-shoes is a little naughty.” he says lowly into your ear, causing you to start whimpering and going even faster.

it doesn’t take long for his tip to brush against the right spot “oh, fuck.” you moan, legs shaking at his sides.

“better not get this chair dirty, otherwise i’ll make you clean it,” he warns, knowing that you can’t control your orgasm.

pouting, you clench hard. of course, your release runs down his thighs and onto the seat. your eyes are glassed over while you look at him, who’s shaking his head. “you’re making a mess.”

somehow so quickly, he lifts you off of him and onto the floor. now, he’s behind you, and your cheek leans against the chair.

he again nudges at your entrance, this time you buck your hips back but he grips them tight. “clean up your mess first.”

he doesn’t ask. he orders while pushing your head down further into the cushion.

obeying, you flick your tongue onto your arousal. normally, you’d find this gross, but you’re so wet and turned on that you’ll listen to whatever he says. his presence feels like you are under a spell.

a sweet and salty taste fall on your tongue, following his instructions to a t.

a hum of approval is heard behind you. he spreads your legs wider, slamming into you with no warning.

you moan loudly, arching as much as you can in this position. “m-matt! shit, matt!” you yelp.

he grunts, taking in how well your pussy feels engulfing him.

tears threaten to spill from your eyes once they roll back, moaning loud and clear when your g-spot gets abused already.

strings of curses leave your lips, the way he’s balls deep inside of you right now have you quiver a lot. “you feel—” you pause, licking your lips and shutting your eyes tight. “so good. like… holy fucking god.”

he chuckles, placing his hand on your shoulder to drill into you harder. before you even know that it’s happening, you cum for the second time, shaking uncontrollably from the pleasure.

a deep breath later, matt makes sure to pull out and paint your back white.

“you can keep the clothes.” he says, jiggling your ass to play with it. “so you can wear them the next time i fuck you.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog

[frickingnerd]

saving bakugou from the sludge villain

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

tags: strangers to "lovers", selfless reader, all might shows up, scolding (pro heroes to reader), angst to fluff

a/n: this is part 2 to this post! i've had both posts in my drafts ever since i re-read the manga & decided to finally post them!

you were on your way home, when you passed a crowd of civilians and pro heroes, standing near an alley

you couldn't help but take a look and see what everyone was staring at. after all, it must've been something horrible if even the heroes just stood there and watched!

and when you spotted him you immediately realized just how bad the situation was

inside the alley was katsuki who was struggling to fight off the sludge villain you had run into earlier today

the boy was letting lose one explosion after another, yet there was nothing he could do to get that thing off him

and all the heroes and civilians did nothing but watch as he suffered!

before you knew what you were doing, you rushed head first into it!

you knew you had no chance against that thing, but you couldn't just stand there and watch as he suffered!

his eyes widened as katsuki spotted you running towards him and desperately trying to scratch the villain off him

"t-take me–! take me instead, p-please–!!" you begged the villain, hoping your words would make a difference

katsuki had saved you before, so you wanted to repay the favor, even if it meant putting yourself in danger again

those few seconds of you screaming and scratching at that sludge villain felt like an eternity

and then finally, a hero appeared! all might was there to save the day – to save katsuki !

as soon as the villain was captured by all might, there were heroes taking care of the two of you

though you were mostly being scolded for your reckless behavior!

"you shouldn't get yourself in danger, just to try and save your boyfriend!" one of the heroes told you and your face turned red as he called katsuki your boyfriend

you barely even knew the boy! and still, you had put yourself in danger to try and save him

"he's not my boyfriend…" you quietly told the hero, even if you knew it wouldn't make much of a difference

"oh, really?" the hero raised his head and looked at you surprised. "he's telling people something else~!"

[channoticedmeuwu]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 — 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐖𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃?

p — CHOI BEOMGYU × FEM!READER | g — suggestive, fluff, frenemy!beomgyu | w — mentions of slight claustrophobia, a bad kisser, kissing scene, gyu's kinda annoying pull up bro

a/n — because of 230610 beomgyu need I say more. + this kind of sucks idk why but I mean I need the idea out of my drafts sorry y'all

“beomgyu, please.”

your fingers were gripping beomgyu's jacket— your lips burned from the previous make out session you absolutely regretted, lipstick smeared and desperation fluttering with your pretty eyelashes as you pleaded, blinking at beomgyu. “just a few seconds, I can't let him see me.”

you'd just ‘ran away’ from a guy beomgyu had set you up with— or at least tried to— after realizing he was a terrible kisser with a lot of opinions that would be better off inside his mind. and you were fed up with the constant ‘girls aren't good kissers without experience’ opinion he had, right after calling you a good kisser. he had completely messed up your make up, abruptly landing a kiss on your lips right in the middle of the dance floor. hot bodies against each other and blaring music, causing you an overload of senses.

your eyes stared at beomgyu, who was tall enough, especially with the platform boots he wore tonight. so even with you holding him down, gripping him for dear life wasn't enough to make the two of you see eye to eye. he ran his thumb over your eyebrow with a smile, his fingers adorned in silver rings felt cold against your skin— your eyes absorbing his appearance, your heart beating with anxiety.

“aren't you cute,” he chuckled, making you let out a panicked giggle, “you want me that bad?”

“don't get ahead of yourself,” you stood to your toes, your action making beomgyu lace his finger around your waist in support, “i don't want you, I need you.”

now, that sounded completely different in your head. you needed him to save your ass, you didn't need him in that way. not charming old beomgyu, who kicked the back of your knees when you'd be walking to class. not beomgyu, who'd scrunch up his face everytime you'd walk past and ask if you've taken a shower, especially when your hair were obviously wet. not beomgyu, who'd smack your head from behind and point to the closest person near the two of you when you'd ask, “what the fuck, gyu!?”

so what was it about this beomgyu, the beomgyu who was humming at you and tracing your skin with his initial, the beomgyu whose eyelashes you insisted to do before the party because you realized that he had amazing lashes. the beomgyu who was lazily blinking at you, a blush creeping on his cheeks, adam's apple trembling, “need?”

“you heard me,” but you decided this beomgyu was different, this wasn't the same beomgyu at all. no, his eyes looked different in the flashing lights, his fingers moved up and down your back like he was trying to earn a reaction out of you, but it wasn't working at all, especially when you tightened your grip around his collar in desperation.

and it probably meant something that your first instinct was to look for beomgyu when that horrible kiss happened, and you suddenly realized that staring at his face. beomgyu scrunched his nose at you.

“please.” you said as you turned your head, checking to see if anyone came around the corner looking for you.

“and what's in it for me?”

you were starting to get impatient. you started tapping the floor with your foot, shaking him slightly with a whine, nervously pink in the cheeks. “alright, alright,” he pulled you against the wall right beside the two of you as he heard someone say your name right behind the corner, “but you owe me.”

“anything,” you giggled as he put his arms next to your face against the wall, his body hiding you. he had his eyes closed, forehead against yours, and you could feel your heartbeat chatter your teeth as the echoing of your name got closer.

but somehow, you were still not satisfied.

anyone could still peak over beomgyu's shoulder and see you, your bold make up and your recognizable face. “beom,” you whispered, your breath falling on his lips, the footsteps growing closer, “what if—”

but then he cut you off, lips on your own, a hand guiding your thigh around his hips; he had you pinned. the scent of smoke made its way up your nose as he mumbled, eyes slowly opening, causing his eyelashes to flutter against your cheeks. “hand. hair.”

immediately, you snaked your hands up his hair, unusually soft and—well, they smelled good. the image you had of beomgyu as the annoying asshole who picked on you in the halls was merging into something else, like ripples of water settling down to show a proper picture. beomgyu was holding you in a way you've never been held, his voice humming and his lips in a smile against yours.

and was it that bad to admit that he was getting you more nervous than being found by the guy you were trying to avoid? he'd mutter a little ‘ah!’ that would travel like current throughout your body, especially when you'd turn your head to check if anyone would find you like this; pinned against the wall, eyelids shut tight, his hands underneath your blouse and on your skin. and the idea of that made your face turn redder than the whimpers beomgyu was letting out to tease the fuck out of you.

“you're such a shit kisser,” he mumbled with a giggle that definitely sounded like he felt the opposite, when someone turned around the corner, calling beomgyu's name.

“gyu—oh, fuck.”

beomgyu placed a hand on the back of your neck as he turned, gently nudging your face into his shoulder. “yeah? dude, I'm busy?”

“yeah. shit— I mean, yeah.” then with a stutter at beomgyu's annoyed expression, he continued, “have you seen y/n anywhere?”

“the fuck, dude?”

“nevermind.”

and as the body turned around the corner, beomgyu turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “you can look up now.”

and he saw your face— lips puffy, sweat beading underneath your eyes, panting from the adrenaline, hair disheveled from the friction against the wall— you were a mess. and you were laughing like a maniac.

“dude, you're good,” you just chuckled as beomgyu cocked his head to the side, tongue in cheek. “like me that much?”

“beomgyu, no!”

“mhm, then let go of me.”

and that's when you realized you still had his hair in your hands, your forehead against his, and your legs around him. you muttered a defeated fuck, standing to your feet and getting ready to walk away, cheeks burning.

“hey,” he asked, pouting as he bent lower to look at you, “no thank you kiss for me?”

“is that what I owe you?”

he thought for a second as he clicked his tongue, back leaning against the wall as he thrust his hands into his pockets. “mhm,” he finally nodded, tapping his lips which were glittering from your lipgloss.

“right here.”

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[nakedcows]

Hello! I gotta request. I love Aemond as many of the girlies do. But I never find fics for the plus size girls. I’m a firm believer that Aemond would like a plus size woman. When you have a moment of time I’d love to see a plus size reader x Aemond type fic. Of course I’d be here for some spice too. I’d just really like to see more representation ☺️ thank you for your time and I hope you have a wonderful day!

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay. I had a draft ready that didn't save so my inspiration took a big hit. I haven't thought about it before, but now that you say it I do think Aemond would lean more toward plus sized women. I can't explain why i just feel like it falls inline with his character. Thank you for your request!!

summary: Aemond gifts Y/n new clothes that inspire her to take the lead tonight

warnings: smut p n v, slight degrading (not of the reader), body shaming (it's not very much don't worry), sub Aemond

Word count 1.4k

Y/n was entranced by the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The woman standing in her mirror resembled the fair ladies from books she had read as a girl. Ones where brave knights fight to the death and love-struck monarchs conquer kingdoms for the chance to embrace their true love.

The emerald green dress she wore had no sleeves and hung off her shoulders. Y/n was not used to dressing in such a manner she had become accustomed to frumpy, loose fitted clothing that hid her figure. Y/n’s mother had insisted that despite the high ranking of their house, it was imperative to hide the plump figure she had inherited from her to guarantee proposals from the lords of the court. However, her dear Aemond had thought otherwise. He began to court Y/n and questioned why a lady of her rank wore such ill-fitting clothing. After Y/n had confided in Aemond about her mother's advice, he disposed of her dresses and commissioned a new wardrobe of custom-made dresses with matching jewelry for his love. Y/n admired her newfound figure and how her bodice hugged her thick waist instead of hanging loosely. Layers of skirt gracefully laid against her wide hips complimented with embroidery. The mousy-looking girl had disappeared under hair tied in intricate braids decorated with rare jewels and a beauteous dress accentuating her curved figure. Y/n always felt as though she was meant to be invisible, to blend into the background unnoticed and unmentioned unless she was needed. But now, with her full body glittering in the open free to be seen, she felt confident.  

“You are enchanting, my love,” Aemond said. He had briefly left for Y/n to dress and retrieve the final piece to her ensemble. Aemond stood behind her, unable to break his gaze from her captivating, newfound appearance.   

Aemond delicately clasped a sapphire necklace cut from the same gem in his eye.   

“What do you think, dear heart?” he asked as his hands drifted from Y/n’s neck to her shoulders  

“I think it’s... perfect,” she said, gliding her hands under her plump chest. “I look perfect.” Y/n smiled brightly at her reflection. The rush of finally recognizing the glowing beauty in her mirror was the same modestly dressed woman that she saw a few hours ago.  Y/n felt invincible at this moment she could do anything, say anything and the surefooted woman in her mirror would protect her from fear and persecution with a glance. She turned to Aemond with a new vigor. It was an unfamiliar feeling that bubbled in her core and climbed up to her chest. Aemond had always taken the lead. He led when they held hands when they kissed, and he led when they were intimate. But tonight, she would take command. Y/n grabbed the back of Aemond’s head greedily, pulling him flush against her body for a languid kiss. Aemond grinned into the kiss, stroking her rounded hips, causing the sensation in her core to swell. Y/n slowly pulled from him. Her whole body felt as though someone had set aflame her from the inside.   

“You promised me once that you would do anything for me. I need only ask. Is that still true? Y/n asked, meeting his eyes.   

“Of course, my dear,” the fingers on his neck glided into his hair to stroke his scalp.   

“Then get on your knees for me,” Y/n’s light stroking turned into a tight grip as she yanked Aemond’s head back by his hair.  Aemond breath hitched from the sudden tension on his scalp. Y/n had never done this before yet as he prostrated himself before her the hand in his hair leading him to kneel, he felt the blood rushing to his cock.  

“What do you wish of me Y/n?”  

“Hmm I don’t think using my name suits you very well my dear,” she said smirking.  

“Oh?”  

“No, you are a proper gentleman are you not? Then you should refer to me like one. I think ‘My lady’ will do for now, don’t you?” Aemond felt his breeches tighten as she leaned in and paused just before their lips met.  

“Answer me Aemond.”  

“Yes, my lady,” Y/n closed the gap between them, devouring his lips. Aemond could hear his heart pounding as his member began to throb. He was used to being in control. There was safety in control letting that part of him slip for even a second led to disaster. Aemond craved rest for someone to ease that unmoving tension in his mind and giving his power to Y/n would do just that. 

“Good boy, strip and lay on the bed for me,” she said releasing his hair. Aemond stood from his spot on the floor in favor of removing his doublet and breeches before laying on the bed desperate to obey. Aemond felt his length harden as Y/n waltzed up to the bed and slowly skipped out of her sleeves pulling her bodice down, exposing her full breast and removed her small clothes, leaving her the remainder of her dress on. His red tip now peaked out from the protection of its fleshy folds at the sight. His shy elegant lady turned dominating temptress. Aemond reached down to stroke himself but was met with a quick slap.   

“Proper gentlemen don’t touch themselves, Aemond. It is quite unseemly,” she said, climbing onto the bed to straddle him.  

“Y-Yes my lady.”   

“You know improper gentlemen believe they are owed the pleasure they crave-” Y/n pulled her skirt up, revealing thick plush thighs coated in slick from her dripping mound, causing Aemond’s breath to quicken and his cock to throb. “But a proper gentleman asks for his desires, doesn’t he, Aemond? Why don’t you ask me for what it is you desire my dear?” Y/n lowered herself a bit allowing Aemond’s tip to just barely graze her entrance. Aemond gasped, trying to hold himself together. Whenever he had coupled with Y/n, Aemond would take her hips and impale her with his length whenever he felt the urge, yet at this moment doing such a thing without her explicit permission felt as though he would be committing an unforgivable sin of the highest caliber.  

“Please my lady, use my cock.” Aemond said, bringing his hands up and sinking his fingers into her soft hips. 

“Hmm I don’t know. You don’t seem to want me enough. Perhaps I should stop,” she said slowly lowering her skirt. The gentle throbbing of Aemonds cock developed into torturous ache.  

“No, my lady, please I need you. Please let me fill your cunny. I need it. I’m throbbing for you. I need to fill you around me my lady,” Y/n grinned and lifted her skirt once more.  

“There you go sweet boy begging for me like a proper gentleman,” Y/n dropped onto his cock taking him all at once. Normally Y/n would ask Aemond to be slow and gentle with her, but here and now, consumed by her newfound vigor, she didn’t want to be gentle. She didn’t want to be delicate. She wanted to take everything for herself. Y/n sank, allowing Aemond to bottom out. He could feel her cunt constrict around his cock as if she wanted to meld him into her insides. Her folds would only briefly release him from their tight grip before clenching around him once again. Y/n could feel Aemond’s cock pulsating inside her. The tip of his cock pressed against the spongy back of her cunt. Y/n rocked her hips, enthralled by how the sensation of absolute control enhanced her pleasure. Aemond felt as though he was unraveling every time Y/n’ hips dropped to meet his. Aemond was consumed with an unrelenting craving that devoured his entire being. He needed her. He needed more.   

“Faster my lady! Please, I need more of you!”   

“Good boy asking so nicely for his lady,” Y/n sped up, bouncing on Aemond’s cock quicker, the heat in her core building to a peak ready to snap at any moment. Y/n reached for Aemond’s hands. She pressed his left hand against her pearl and held onto his right one. Aemond rolled small circles on Y/n’s pearl already covered in her slick and tangled his fingers with hers. Adding pressure to the sensitive bud when their hips met each other. 

“I’m going to cum. Are you ready, Aemond?” she said leaning down, losing herself in his violet eye.  

“Yes please, I need to feel you cum around me my lady!” she couldn’t hold on any longer. Squeezing Aemonds hand Y/n fell apart as her orgasm flooded across her body, causing her legs to shake and her body to fall limp against Aemond. The pleasure of taking Aemond as she pleased pushed Y/n’s high to another plane of existence. One where she was everything and nothing all at once. Unburdened. Unshackled. Untouched. Aemond felt himself burst inside of Y/n his back arching. He had never reached a peak like this before. He could feel tingling all throughout his body that turned into blissful burning reaching to the tips of his toes. They laid together for a moment, their heavy breathing filling the heady air. Y/n sat up a bit and placed a gentle kiss on Aemond’s temple still damp from the excitement.  

“Did I do well for you, my lady?” 

“You were the perfect gentleman.” 

Please reblog and comment

[freakbullet]

so this video (it's pretty good, worth a watch) basically saved me having to clean up the big word salad post I was drafting but I'm gonna reiterate a few points -

firstly, this isn't mentioned in the video but I think it's so, so important: unlike the valentine author, Gaster has never, ever used a single contraction. Toriel is another character who never uses them, no matter how casual the context. for something like this to suddenly change for no reason makes no sense. Toby is meticulous. I genuinely believe this is a HUGE strike against it being Gaster, yet almost no one mentions it. next, the valentine author speaks as if they don't know us: "you seem reliable", "you are very odd". and as we know, Gaster's well acquainted with us by now, so it'd make no sense for him to speak to us this way. (but what it does lend credence to is this being a character we either haven't met before, or haven't extensively interacted with.) additionally, in all instances so far, Gaster's been keen, focused, sharp. why would he suddenly be so addled and confused? the author saying they forgot who they're supposed to help, and it possibly even being themself, doesn't point to Gaster either - in fact, just the opposite - because the idea of him being forgotten is pure fanon. the game explicitly states that Asgore took so long to hire a new royal scientist because Dr. Gaster's brilliance was irreplaceable. how would the king know that if he didn't remember? fictional characters, by their very nature, are presented to us in a deliberate and finite way; our interactions with them have specific purpose. this means that when we try to hold them to real-world standards like "I, a real live person, write differently depending on the occasion", it won't always hold up. we have to go by what precedents have already been set by the creator, in the context in which these characters exist. on occasions when characters in UT/DR have spoken in a different way than usual, the fundamental, anchoring traits of their speech still remain intact (see: contractions), which would not be the case if Gaster were the valentine author.

(and of course, this doesn't even touch on the Japanese translation highlighting how wildly different the speech styles are, which I personally put more stock in than they do in the video.) the last 3rd of the video is more opinion/headcanon-oriented but he makes his point well. even if you disagree with his perception of Gaster (I do to an extent), it's true that there's already no shortage of whimsical, silly, lighthearted characters in UT/DR, and surely, if Gaster were meant to be one of them, Toby wouldn't reveal it in a way that's so out of left field. I love silly goofy wingding man as much as the next guy, but I also agree that attributing this personality to him out of nowhere, when it's incongruent with everything we've seen so far, would only serve to undermine his character and the uniqueness of it. none of this is to knock anyone whose opinion differs from mine! I'm just laying my thoughts out, for whatever that's worth. I've seen an unfortunate tendency in the community to lump the valentine in with the tweets and gonermaker text as all being on the same level of "obviously Gaster", and then tout it as proof that their headcanons are real. (we all have our headcanons! just don't be a dick about it eh?) at the end of the day, personally, I try to absorb and cling to as much canon evidence as possible, scant though it may be. because what I really really want, is to know who Gaster is. in the truest sense, as he is intended to be by his creator.

(but isn't it wonderful how much we all love this character, no matter how differently we may see him? I mean ultimately if we're not having fun here, then what's the point, right?)

but yeah, give the vid a watch! it goes into more detail and makes more compelling points than my sleepless brain can atm. :p

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

(Angst and fluff and smut)

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

or read Chapter Five below the cut

The whispers of the night were quiet, which usually meant Astarion ought to settle in for early meditation and maybe a flight across the city before sunrise. The nobility of Baldur’s Gate were still recovering from a somewhat overburdened social calendar. He sat at his desk, in the study that had been in use for centuries, looking over the periodicals, letters and books that had been set aside. He tried not to think about how much of it was exactly the same as it ever was.

Perhaps out of some desperate attempt to do something—anything—innovative, he started working on a sending, but struggled to fit his inquiries into twenty-five words or less.

“My Lord?”

Astarion looked up to find Alice peering around the doorframe, red eyes blazing. She seemed taller since he’d turned her into a spawn, bolder too. It wasn’t a bad change, but it wasn’t something he’d seen in a new spawn before, so he didn’t quite understand how to account for it. He beaconed for her to come in. “Ah, good timing, Alice.” He frowned at the letter. “I may need you for something.”

“Baron Horrold is here. He’s brought you—”

“Oh. Gods, was that tonight?” He’d completely forgotten.

Alice flinched at his tone, but approached and smiled apologetically, “shall I send him away?”

“No,” he sighed, “no, just—take this letter across town to the Society of Brilliance.”

“It’s not dusk yet,” Alice reminded him, taking the letter from him anyway. She couldn’t help it.

“Oh, never mind. Stop!” That careless, passive quality of compulsion stung, even all these years later, even on the other side of it. The way her eyes sparked. If he hadn’t caught it, or if he’d been too incensed at being corrected, would he have just let her burn? “Help me work out how to shrink this into twenty-five words?” They needed to be quick about this, he was still somewhat hopeful to get his arrangements with Horrold over with quickly.

Alice unfolded the note and read aloud, “Omeluum, when last we spoke you seemed more hopeful than ever that you had found ‘viable alternatives.’ I am curious to know more about how your research has progressed, and if you believe it could extend to sanguine substitutes—” she stopped here only about half-way through the wordy draft, eyes wide, and looked up at him.

“That’s already far too many words,” Astarion lamented, “I know I should just get to the point but—what?”

She was still staring at him like she was witnessing something truly scandalous or shocking. “What does this mean? Viable alternatives? Sanguine substitutes?” She straightened up, cocking her head at him curiously. “Are you trying to find an alternative to drinking blood?”

“I’m not ruling out the possibility that something could be developed. It may not be possible—I suspect it’s not, there’s something about blood that isn’t just about the substance, but the intimacy and the actual life leaving—what?” he halted wearily looking at Alice as she clearly had something she desperately wanted to say.

“I just,” Alice shook her head, looking down at the letter, “that’s very practical of you.” 

“I know that.” Astarion blinked at her.

“But, you’re probably right.” She didn’t look particularly downcast to admit it, her brow was still knit together curiously, like she’d never really seen him before. “Animal blood even is…”

“Feels like a wretched compromise, doesn't it?” But it was a compromise that kept them from being too much of a problem in the neighborhood. Without really thinking, Astarion went on, “you know, I wasn’t permitted anything else, during my time as a spawn.”

“Not permitted?” Alice cocked one eyebrow, “you mean you had to feed off animals? Exclusively?”

“Exactly.”

Alice nodded, contemplating that. “I don’t feed off people often, but… why don’t you forbid it? I do see how there’s some risk—in our anonymity, if nothing else.”

“Because I don’t care,” Astarion shrugged. “I don’t…” it wasn’t entirely true. He did care if she ate the wrong person and got herself killed by Rion, when it came down to it. The real reason he didn’t forbid it eluded him, but he reached for it, in the back of his mind. Why did it bother him so much? “I don’t want to do things the way they were done in the past. I want to forget the past, when it comes down to it.” 

Why though? It had worked well enough, for other older, truer vampires, hadn’t it? Up until it didn’t any longer.

He looked at the letter, still half-unread in her hand. He didn’t want her to wait until dusk to take it. “So tedious,” he stood up from the desk abruptly, and slid the top drawer open. Astarion’s letter opener was as sharp as any of his daggers, and he only needed to draw it across his thumb to create a red line. “Come here—this will be so much more convenient.”

Alice leaned across the desk, as beaconed, but she was shaking her head furiously, “I don’t want it!” she gasped.

“Stop,” Astarion halted her, his thumb throbbing. He stared at her a moment. “You don’t want—?”

“I don’t want to be a true vampire,” she tumbled the words out, shaking. “Please don’t make me.”

He blinked at her, head spinning a little. It was a lot to take in, in such a brief few seconds. “I have no—” he stopped himself, placing both hands on the top of the desk, and letting his head fall a moment. “Why not?” he finally asked, voice flat.

“Do you know why I came here? Why I wanted to become your spawn?” Alice spoke in a wandering whisper.

“I assumed you were madly in love with me. That’s usually how it starts,” Astarion maintained eye contact with the top of the desk, blood seeping from his sliced thumb onto the fine polished wood.

“Well.” Alice’s tone took on a particular hesitance, as though she was either on the edge of admitting something, or else not sure how to respond.

“Never mind. Tell me why.”

“There’s an illness in my family. I’ve lost almost everyone dear to me.” Alice looked small again. “I’m making progress to find a treatment. But. I would never find a cure before I lived out my natural life. There simply wasn’t time.”

“I see.”

“It’s not that I scorn the gift—” she cut herself off, expression a little alarmed as she shook her head at him. There must be some betrayal of anger in his features, because she started to scramble a little, “I’m grateful. I truly am. But. Living forever, undead, was not my first choice… and if I were to become a true vampire I’d have to give up more than my life. I believe what they say. I know I couldn’t love anymore. If I didn’t love anyone—would I even care to continue my research?”

Astarion was nodding along as she spoke. It was something he’d thought about, long ago. Not being able to love. Honestly, most vampire spawn ultimately decided that getting their autonomy back would be worth any other sacrifice, many times over. He’d taken it for granted that this was the case for decades, although it was much easier to decide he felt that way when becoming a true vampire was an impossibility anyway. But. It didn’t matter because, “I wasn’t about to turn you into a true vampire, apropos of nothing. I just wanted to extend a small portion of my protection to you, so you don’t have to worry about burning to death in the setting sun.���

Alice stood stunned, and immediately energized in a way that also opened old wounds to witness.

“Honestly. Perhaps I should have done it a long time ago. It’s just. Convenient.” He looked away, trying once again not to let it be anything significant. “A single drop of my blood wouldn’t change you beyond that little shield.”

The poor girl couldn’t even seem to speak. But when he beaconed her closer again, she obeyed. She was so careful not to take too much. Still a little nervous, by the way her eyes darted. Perhaps she was still suspicious.

She pressed her lips against his thumb, barely wetting her mouth with the smear of blood, then licked her lips.

“That’s it?” she squeaked.

“Yes. That’s all. Society of Brilliance. It’s sort of near the docks—”

“I know it.” Of course she did. Secretive intellectual spawn, apparently. Alice started to leave, but her steps slowed as she approached the door, and Astarion hadn’t sat back down yet. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought there was something he was meant to do? Wasn’t there?

Alice turned on her heel and faced him before she departed. “Thank you,” she said, earnestly. “I almost forgot to say it. I was so… thank you.”

“It’s convenient,” Astarion repeated, in barely more than a mutter.

“You should stop into your chambers before you meet with Baron Horrold.”

Damn. The Baron. That was what he was forgetting. 

Wait? What was that? Alice was gone. Her final instructions felt vague in his memory already. His stomach sank, like some part of him already knew.

Astarion didn’t go after her, just decided to let her slowly, cautiously wade into the sun again after months of darkness. Instead, he just went straight to his chambers, as she’d indicated he should. By the time he got there and opened his door, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but wasn’t at all surprised by what he found.

There was Isolde again.

Tied up, and beaten, again. Horrold’s people hadn’t been as gentle as De Cloyo’s, or perhaps she’d fought back harder this time. She was hurt. She was naked. The cords binding her ankles and her arms were too tight, the skin around them was swollen. In his mind flashed the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, upright and tense on the same chaise, but now she was limp, clearly dropped there. She was worryingly still.

On his knees in front of her, he confirmed her pulse first. It hardly took more than an instant. He was still so sensitive to it after drinking from her, just days ago. 

Her lip was split and her jaw swollen, and the bruising around her shoulder made him think her arms had probably been twisted much too hard, the wrong way, but the limbs didn’t seem to be out of place. He cut her binds and snatched the frayed cords away. She didn’t stir, not even when the blood rushed back into her hands and feet, not even when Astarion pulled her face up to his in an attempt to feel her breathe. Her exhale was so shallow, it barely reached him, even inches away.

“Isolde? Can you hear me, dear?” Astarion tried to move her, and support her head so she might wake up and sit up with ease, but she did neither. Peeling open one of her eyelids, he found her gaze empty, unfocused, her pupils dilated. He patted her face lightly, but she only swallowed, her neck still limp without his hands to hold her.

He examined her head to make sure nothing looked dangerously split or puffy, but it didn’t seem that her unconsciousness was due to injury. Strong sedatives. He couldn’t help but notice the plait in her hair and the half-up way she’d arranged it before those brutes roughed her up. It looked as though she’d tried to imitate the hairstyle he’d done for her, to some success, even. 

Astarion gathered her into his arms. Tried not to think too much about just how heavy and nearly liquid her body was, like she wasn’t inside of it at all. He moved her to the bed and managed to tuck her in, noticing more bruises before he covered her with the silken bedsheets. Should he send one of the other servants to fetch a cleric to look her over? 

Inviting a cleric into this house was not wise.

At least. Not an ordinary cleric.

All he had in his nightstand was a simple health potion. It would do for now, but she seemed empty enough he wasn’t sure he could make her drink with any success. He set the potion on top of the nightstand for her to find when she woke up.

Astarion snatched Rhapsody from the floor and gave Isolde one last glance before leaving her. At this vantage point, she just looked like she was sleeping. Maybe it would wear off in little time, but he thought he didn’t want to risk it. Besides that, he had a fair few favors he could call in.

His staff was light, these days. Apart from Alice he really only had the groomsmen and a majordomo named Barnes who was still fairly new to the household, and was perhaps the first person he’d ever engaged who hadn’t sought him out to beg for eternal death. Man just wanted a job. Curious.

Fetching the neighbors seemed a little like an odd chore for a majordomo, which might be why Barnes looked at him a little strangely when he told him to go to the little cottage across the bridge called ‘The House of Grief’ and tell them that Lord Astarion required the aid of an acolyte with healing abilities. “Don’t be too surprised if they aren’t forthcoming about any damn thing. But, if they give you any trouble, just tell them Shadowheart owes me and she knows why. They’ll know what it means.”

After that, it was time to face Horrold. The Baron had been left to his own devices with his man in the parlor. Astarion found them both waiting for him. Horrold was visibly impatient, toying with the contents of a nearly clean ashtray on the fireplace mantel.

“There you are! Be honest, you’ve quite forgotten our appointment, haven’t you?” Horrold stood up straight and faced Astarion, the firelight flickering up the side of his silken trousers and heavily embroidered waistcoat. At his back, his man was utterly still, though his eyes searched the room.

“I got caught up in prior business,” Astarion shut the door at his back, and measured Horrold before he continued, “decided to check in on the gift you brought me on the way.”

“Lady’s Maid,” Horrold shook his head heavily, “I’m afraid my wife has become far too fond of her. She’ll be missed, but only by a woman who needs to learn a lesson anyway.”

“I see.”

“You’re troubled? It was my understanding that—”

“I’m just considering something,” Astarion sighed, and took a moment to listen to every voice in his head as well as those undulating through the air, growing louder as night approached. “Yes,” he finally answered them all. “Yes. Quite right.”

Astarion shot across the room so quickly that the inevitable small moment of second-guessing his own decision drowned in blood. Rhapsody plunged straight through the center of Horrold’s throat, so the exit-wound spat red into his man’s eyes. He ripped the dagger free, the warm spray of red striking him and sparking the fire, crackling loudly beside them.

The Baron was dead before his knees buckled. His head flopped backwards, internally decapitated even while his shredded arteries pumped their last thick cords into the air. He fell at the perfect angle to land partly in the fire, but it hardly mattered, there wasn’t even enough life left in him for his body to twitch. 

The Baron’s man let out a cry and leapt at Astarion, but wasn’t nearly quick enough. All the vampire had to do was close his mouth and tear. He caught Horrold’s doomed man by the throat and barely even tasted him before breaking his throat all the way open.

Compared to his master, the servant died loud and messy, but it still only took seconds before Astarion was alone in his parlor with two corpses.

Astarion took a long breath, in and out, Rhapsody still in his throbbing grip, dripping. He faced himself in the mirror above the mantel. He looked quite feral. His fine, pale suit was drenched, his face masked in blood. For a moment, it felt very, very good. Warm. Maybe it was the mouthful of blood he’d gulped down, or the fact that it was still boiling from being alive, home in the heart so recently, or just that burst of energy when you ripped someone out of their body and tossed them straight into the fugue plane. It made him feel stronger. For a moment, he was hungry.

The Baron’s face melted in the fire. The smell of his hair being licked black against his skull by the flames brought Astarion back to himself, to the room, and the mess and the mess.

One arm and the Baron’s head were still engulfed in the fireplace, the smoke was starting to build up in the air as something about the position blocked its direct path to the flue. If he left the corpse there, it would probably melt like a candle, given enough time. It would be an even more enormous mess, and he didn’t even want to think about the smell that would linger. But, with the stone floors and the lack of other burnable materials in the area, it might be an effective way to dispose of his kill.

And, even if he was wrong, and the fire did spread… It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about it before. Let the place burn. 

He could even make that his excuse for how the Baron died.

Tragically. In a fire that took out a wing of the palace.

The Widow Baroness could have her Lady’s Maid back to comfort her.

Here, he stopped, no longer enchanted by the fantasy. Isolde was not going back there. 

Why not just keep her?

The monster in the mirror wore a little smirk. All that red did suit him, maybe even better than refinement. The body popped as the fire ate through his head. His hair was gone, his eyes melted and his skin pink and fused together so his features blurred into a fog. 

Astarion pulled the Baron out of the flames and let the orange and blue ribbons dissipate a moment before dropping him on the ground beside his man.

Burning even just a wing of the palace down to hide two bodies seemed a little melodramatic. Better to just toss them into the underdark, clean everything up and make a few careful excuses. He was no stranger to hiding ill deeds, it was just… a Baron was a rather serious person to murder. He would have to have excuses, because someone would come asking about it.

And two dead Barons would be even more serious.

Outside, the sun was finally going down. As the daylight vanished, Astarion could safely transform. Flying to De Cloyo’s as a bat only took about a third of the time that it did to travel there by carriage.

[ladytauria]

I need to know more about Neither a Bang Nor a Whimper!!!!

-@bi-bats (ughghghgh sideblog laws sorry for the anon)

So, njw's Where's My Goddamn Dinosaur? was one of the first Jaytim fics I ever read, & immediately left me wanting more time travel fics (which, time travel fix-its & the like were already a favorite genre of mine lol). I also read a lot of gen time travel & dimension travel, and. Anyway. That led to "Neither a Bang Nor a Whimper."

It's gone through a few different changes since I first started planning it / writing it. The first version had future!Tim being sent back in time, in his younger body, and I wrote the first two chapters that way. Then I decided I liked future!Tim being sent there as himself better, mostly because in addition to Jaytim I want to explore what Tim's interactions with his younger self might be like. I have also been considering a version where Jason and Tim are sent back to the past, together (for the same reasons as previous). I may make that an entirely separate fic, lol.

But! At least in the current draft, it's 17-year-old Tim sent back in time a few days before Jason died. The title is a reference to the catalyst of the time travel being the end of the world, similar to Where's My Goddamn Dinosaur--though not with the branching timelines~

It's also one of the first fics I started writing, and I've learned a lot more about canon vs fanon & my preferences re: those things since xD So what I do have needs some heavy rewrites, again :P

But have this snippet anyway~

The world as he knew it... is gone. The invasion saw to that. One by one, all of Tim's loved ones had dropped like flies—from the Teen Titans, to Batman himself, to Alfred. this was his only way forward, now—even if it meant, for all intents and purposes, going backward.

The only question is… when?

Six months ago, when this all started? He, and the rest of Earth's heroes, could stop it, especially with the data that Tim had collected over the last six months. That was the logical choice. Tim's life, as he knew it, would go on, exactly as it was before.

But...

Tim looks at the chronometer, turning it over in his hands, watching the light play on the silver. This is his one chance to go back. He should choose carefully. Weigh his choices, make the right one. the best one.

He has no idea exactly how it works. If he goes back to a time he exists, will there be two of him? Or will his consciousness replace his former self?

He doesn't know.

If its the latter, his choices narrow. He can't save Dick's parents—not from the body of a four year old. Tim bites his lip.

He flips the watch open.

If he’s being honest... there's always been one particular date he's been drawn to. One thing he wanted to change, more than anything else. Maybe it's selfish of him, to narrow down to that particular point—to ignore every other tragedy, every other pivotal moment in his life, in his family's lives.

But if you can't be selfish at the end of the world... when can you be?

So… with only a split second of hesitation, Tim keys in the date—and presses the button. There’s a soft chime, and then—

The world warps around him, bending and twisting, blurring together like some awful fevered haze.

And then the floor drops out beneath him, and he is falling, falling, falling—

[r-18g]

hiii i remember you mentioning having once been and still kinda being plural and id love to hear you elaborate maybe.

(didn't initially intend on being on anon but then i searched your blog to double check and nothing came up and id be deeply embarrassed if i messed this up and got someone else confused :P)

hi i meant to answer this right when you sent it, but then got sidetracked and then lost everything i'd typed up because i had to force-restart my laptop... you're remembering right, though!

i'll reblog this with an elaboration in a little bit, i think... so that anything i type out gets saved properly as a draft, in case i have to restart my laptop again.

[imaginespazzi]

Niviii, bestie, how are you? Hope life’s treating you well, and especially as well as you treated us with part 6!

As always, my thoughts:

Was waiting on when Katie would make an appearance again and you did not disappoint! Someone needed to finally talk some sense cause god knows we were getting nowhere leaving it all to those two dumb gay idiots (affectionate) to figure it out.

But for real, I loved this scene between mother and daughter and hearing others acknowledge that the bond between them was always just different. More. Katie’s like “honey please, it was too obvious”.

As always, I love when real events bleed into the story so absolutely loved draft night getting incorporated here. I could feel the tension as Paige inched closer and closer to Azzi on the carpet like oof the writing was- *chef’s kiss*.

Then them escaping to finally get that moment alone together again and Azzi finally giving in 🥹. Also, their dramatic ass goodbye being only two weeks or so prior to this LOL. Were just absolutely kidding themselves thinking they could really survive staying away from each other.

You already know how I feel about a Drew cameo!! Pleassseee, the whole “you are gonna get married right?” killed me in the best way. He will accept no other outcome, that’s his pookie for life and P will absolutely not mess that up for him again!

The UCLA team finally welcoming P with open arms- we really have come so far.

But omg this whole scene – them finally getting to have the date. What dreams are made of. But P was so done with Azzi here lmao, the NBA quip (tbh, Azzi definitely has a case cause like how is she meant to know that games start late October and not early October?! Like ntm on pookie now 😩). And then the stray that P’s Lebron posters caught – very valid.

For real though, that scene was so healing after everything we’ve all been through with this fic 😌. And P flying all the way to Cali during school – DOWN BAD.

And then just when I thought you’d written my favourite fluff scene, you go ahead and write the dancing in the snow scene.

I don’t even really have much more to add for that specific scene because I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. Just know that dancing in the snow/kissing in the rain scenes have my whole heart and this was no exception.

Then the final scene. I was actually wondering whether you would have Azzi winning the natty because I didn’t know if you could do that to UConn, even if just in a fic, but I appreciate you doing it for the plot (I know it must have killed you a lil writing them losing- and NOT EVEN MAKING IT TO THE NATTY GAME) 😭.

But it was only fitting that we got Paige in Azzi’s jersey this time around (side note: something I badly need to see irl at some point).

And the ending – THE ENDING – look, that may also be how I’ve imagined next season panning out irl (the kiss) but obviously with them both on the court… and since I know there’s almost no chance it would actually happen, I’m glad we got to live it out here.

What’s next?

First of all, I can’t believe we’re coming to the end, like from one offhanded comment about “what if Azzi had chosen UCLA?” being my roman empire to this? Insane.

Not that I had a single doubt but whatever expectations I had coming into this, trust, you more than exceeded every. single. one.

I’ll prolly go on a much longer thank you after the last chapter or epilogue so I’ll save it for then!

But yeah, in terms of what’s next, imma leave it to you, Nivi.

The “or so she hopes” at the end has me a little worried, but remember “everything changes, except the ending” and you did promise us a happy ending 😌.

Favourite lines:

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks.

Bonus (also because this is how I want it to play out irl next season when they win the natty lmao): 

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless. 

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Alternate lyric/song (I fucking love arms tho, that song just fits this entire fic so perfectly):

In the darkest night hour, I search through the crowd. Your face is all that I see, I’ll give you (I've given you) everything, baby, love me lights out.

Side note: I was a little high when I first read part 6, and it was an experience (in the best way)!!!

As always, thank you. You already know.

Much love,

-🙋‍♀️

Bestieeeee, I'm good love, thanks for asking and I hope you're good too! Can you believe I finally wrote a chapter without breaking your heart?

If we left it up to Paige and Azzi, this fic would end up running in circles for another 10 chapters but thank god for Katie and common sense. I really love Katie and Azzi's relationship and she felt the perfect person to make Azzi see sense

The draft scene is probably my favorite scene to have written throughout this whole series, an accumulation of everything else and I'm so glad you liked it because I wanted to do the confession justice and I hope I did

LMAO okay so I was fully gonna drag it out a little longer cause 2 weeks is so short but a) I wanted to include the draft and b) let's be honest these idiots definitely are the kind people to only make a dramatic goodbye last barely 2 weeks

I love Drew so much so you know I had to add him in here but yeah that's their no.1 supporter and you best believe he will drag them to the aisle if he needs too

I threw in that UCLA team line for you, I knew you'd appreciate the growth!

Even though I've been teasing my anons with sadness for most of this fic, the date recreation was always gonna happen from the minute I wrote the call lol.

Honestly as much as I love writing angst!Pazzi and fluff!Pazzi, bickering!Pazzi is my favorite and I just had to add that in

I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE SNOW SCENE. It truly adds nothing to the plot but it popped into my head and I was like fuck it, the people deserve their dance in the snow moment lol

You know me too well. It physically hurt to write UConn losing (at least they'd already won in this universe) but for the plot, and because it's Azzi, with a heavy heart, I wrote another team winning it all.

I put all my hopes and dreams for next season into that ending and yeah look it's not happening, but life imitates art right? Why not manifest?

I have to go back and find your ask because man I can't believe we've come this far. WE DID IT BESTIE! We lived your roman empire out just a little bit and there's just a little bit left to go!

Alright, there's maybe just a little bit more turbulence to come but I think you're gonna like the actual ending I have planned (you have to or I will actually cry)

XO!! Fantastic song choice!

LMAO I love that for you babes! And thank you for always, always having such a detailed review for me. They mean the world to me and I appreciate it so much. Til next time my love <3

[diana-fortyseven]

F O P (I do love a fancy lad) ;)

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Noooooo not dialogue, I honestly think I suck at it. xD

I like the dialogue in Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, though.

“So, what’s the plan now?” he murmured into his mug after making sure that no-one was close enough to hear him. “Now you’ll drink your cocoa and try to get a feeling for this place,” Diana said. “Familiarise yourself with the lay of the land, the smells, the sounds, the lights. What are people doing, which way are the masses moving, which stalls are the most popular among other visitors. You might want to memorise how to get to other points of interest from here.”

47 is on a mission, but so is Diana, and the mission he's actually on is not the one he thinks it is. I think the dialogue in this fic shows this quite well. :D

It was a fun fic to write, and I while I totally understand why it's not too popular (it's 47 & Diana), I wished more people would give fics that aren't 47/Diana a chance.

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

Since I write fanfiction, and most of my fics are either from 47's or Diana's perspective, I technically always start with the characters? :D

It's usually a "wouldn't it be fun to explore this situation" or "hey, that would be an interesting setting for a mission", and then I try to figure out if the more interesting of both stories is the one told from 47's or from Diana's perspective. Sometimes that's an easy decision, sometimes I'm not sure.

For Memory Lane, I chose Diana's perspective because I wanted to preserve the feeling of not knowing what had 47 so distressed. In hindsight, I'm not sure if that was the right decision, and if it's obvious enough what he'd remembered that night.

I wrote intentionally one fic from both perspectives, Two Sides of the Same Coin, because I thought it'd add value and *sighs* perspective. It was fun and I think it worked well. That's something I usually don't so; it's more interesting to show the other person's perspective through their reactions.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

That really depends! For plot-driven fics, I usually plot it all out with the help of Save the Cat!, but for ones that are meant to explore a situation, a character, or an emotion, I just follow the bunny wherever it leads me. If I don't like it, I can always go back and change things. That's the beauty about drafts, no-one needs to witness the chaos! :D

Alphabet Ask Game

[griseldabanks]

Shynael (shuh-NIE-ell):

His name has secret significance: I got the name Shynael from a dream. I never remembered anything else about the dream, only that spelling with that pronunciation. I knew I had to save it for something extra-special, and then a few years later I decided to write a dragon rider story, and knew that would be the perfect name for the dragon. All the other dragon names I came up with afterwards were modeled after Shynael.

I am so sorry, my child: I'm so mean to this poor guy T^T The first thing that happens in the plot is him being orphaned as soon as he's hatched, and then he has to immediately turn around and flee for his life with Shard, who he just met, because he's a dragon in a human village that his mother just crashed into. And then, not only does he have to start growing up on the run, he also runs into dragon hunters, knights, and various other battles where he and his best friend risk their lives...all before he's even a year old.

I would love fanart of him: I mean, who wouldn't?! But I would be annoyingly particular about the way he looks, because my insistence that "no one does dragons right" extends to the way they look too ^^'

I would want to be his friend irl: Oh my gosh, SO VERY MUCH TT_____TT He's adorable, he's fun, he likes to laugh and play, he's very loving and likes to cuddle, and he would want to be your friend too the second he found out you were Shard's friend. Plus...I mean...he's a dragon. How cool is that?!

Made specifically for a relationship: Again, this is a dragon rider story, and you can't do that without a human and a dragon bonding. Shynael kind of came first in this duo, but he was always meant to be the little brother.

Vital to the plot: Shynael's appearance is literally the inciting incident of this story :P

Fan-favorite: I'd like to think he would be! I've had nothing but positive reactions to him from anyone I've shown the first draft to. He's adorable and fun, and my hope is that most people will instantly fall in love with him and want to protect him at all costs.

Could be the protagonist of his own story: The few vague thoughts I've had about a possible sequel would be at least a short story with Shynael as the POV character, where he tries to find out who his father is. It would be first-person, and would make people laugh a lot more than The Ambassadors, though because it's me, it would probably still dip into angst a lot as well. But I never actually came up with more than a vague idea of what it would be about. First things first, you know. Gotta write the first story before bothering about sequels.

I love him, Your Honor: I can't put into words how much I love this kid <3 I don't have a little brother, but...if I did, I'd want him to be like this :') He's also quite possibly the best character I've ever created. I just want him to grow and thrive and have only the best things in life, especially after everything I put him through. (Shynael: "That's okay. You gave me my Shard, and that's all I need! :D")

Practically writes himself: As evidenced in the previous question, whenever I write him - or even about him, apparently! - it's like he comes back to life and starts talking to me. The whole time I was writing the first draft, it was like I had a tiny version of him curled up in my brain, and throughout the day he'd give his commentary on various things - especially if they had to do with dragons in any way. I always like to say that Shynael is my "Harry Potter" - he fell, fully formed, into my lap as soon as I started writing him. I barely feel like I created him at all. He already existed somewhere, and I just wrote the story that opened the portal he could come through. Objectively, I can look at his first couple of scenes and realize that I fine-tuned his voice over time, and I also know that the whole reason I started writing the story was because I was tired of dragons who were only ever austere and wise or basically just animals. Shynael is exactly the sort of dragon I would write, because he's specifically pushing back against almost every dragon I've ever read about...but at the same time, Shynael is just himself. Put him in any situation, and I know what he would do or say, because it's barely even me writing him. He writes himself.

Very good-looking: Okay, Shynael, you can stop preening like a peacock XD But it's true! Another thing I decided right away was that my main dragon was going to be black. I was sick and tired of the way black dragons always seemed to be evil in the stories I read. Besides, have you ever run your finger over a bit of obsidian? That's what Shynael's scales look and feel like.

*holds gently*: He is baby. I am constantly torn between the authorial need to Put Him In Situations, and the maternal instinct of "If anyone hurts him, I will kill everyone in this room and then myself."

He gets so much page-time: Originally, he was literally there on page one. I think I need to back up a bit and give more of an introduction to Shard in my next draft before bringing him in, and there are a few scenes where Shard is alone, but for the most part, Shynael is there the whole time. My working title of the story, before I decided on The Ambassadors, was The Black Dragon, after all.

Free space: His catchphrase is "My mother told me..." In this world, dragon eggs only hatch when the circumstances are just right (and it can be hard to know what those circumstances are), and the baby dragon is able to hear and understand while they're inside the egg. It was a long time before Shynael hatched, so he has a lot of memories of things his mother talked to him about while she carried his egg around everywhere. So he has a jump-start on knowledge about the world, and he wants to experience everything his mother told him about first-hand.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"America First tapped into the widespread isolationism that was among the nation’s most powerful impulses in the thirties. In rejecting the League of Nations, imposing the Smoot-Hawley Tariff and redefining the war as a scam, America had returned to its long tradition of non-entanglement and unilateralism. FDR’s hands-off “Good Neighbor” policy toward Latin America, welcomed south of the border, was much in the same vein. The Senate was dominated by isolationists, including Republicans whose populism meant that FDR could count on them to support his New Deal as long as he steered clear of intervention. Polls showed that Americans overwhelmingly opposed getting involved, and by 1940 the ranks of isolationists were swelled by defections from the pacifism that was once widespread but no longer seemed credible. Right-wingers were especially eager to keep out of war, but so were left-wingers. Nobody was more isolationist than the communists; taking their cue from Moscow, which had made its peace with Hitler, they loudly advocated keeping America out of war. This made for some strange bedfellows, even if the romance was short-lived.

Antiwar music lovers on the right and the left, for example, both applauded Songs for John Doe, a scathing album issued in March of 1941 by a pioneering folk group called the Almanac Singers. The Almanacs included Pete Seeger, Lee Hays, and Millard Lampell; later Woody Guthrie would join. Reflecting a change in communist orthodoxy (Seeger was a party member), the previous anti-fascism of the Left was abandoned after the Molotov-Ribbentrop agreement in favor of keeping America out of the European conflict. Thus, the album earned praise from the Daily Worker newspaper for attacking the prospect of American involvement in the war.

One song implied that the urge to war was yet another New Deal effort to eliminate surpluses, except instead of burying agricultural excess the plan was to “Plow under, plow under, / Plow under every fourth American boy.” The Almanacs leveled equally savage musical denunciations at Roosevelt in “The Ballad of October 16th,” whose lyrics bitterly commemorated registration day for the new peacetime draft:

Oh Franklin Roosevelt told the people how he felt. We damned near believed what he said; He said, “I hate war—and so does Eleanor, But we won’t be safe till everybody’s dead.”

Eric Bernay, in his midtown Manhattan record store, The Music Room, supposedly had so many requests for the record from America Firsters that he kept it hidden in the bathroom. That may be, but the album probably got more attention on the left. “After one performance before the League of American Writers,” Richard and JoAnne Reuss report in their history of leftist folk music, “Theodore Dreiser jumped up, planted a kiss on the cheek of a startled Lee Hays, and declared, ‘If we had six more teams like these boys, we could save America!’ ” A few months later, after Hitler’s invasion of the Soviet Union, the album was withdrawn and the Almanacs started singing a very different tune. The title song of their next, and last, album, “Dear Mr. President,” insisted that “Mr. President, we haven’t always agreed in the past, I know,” but the important thing now was “we got to lick Mr. Hitler.”

- Daniel Akst, War By Other Means: How the Pacifists of World War 2 Changed American for Good. New York: Melville House, 2022. p. 53-55.

[scripturient1998]

About Me

Hey, I’m Mackenzie! I write a variety of things, including stories, songs, and poems, and this is my imperfect attempt to keep a writeblr.

While I may share content for any of these things, my current focus is a series which I am presently 6 “Terrible First Drafts” into!

I’ve made myself a handy-dandy list of complicatedly aesthetic tags to use as I sort the posts I share here, all related to this series and its characters. I may add to this list in time, especially if I shift focus to other WIPs, but right now I expect this will be the bulk of my content. The tags are meant to be both enigmatic and organizational, so I will share a quick rundown of them below, but you are under no obligation to keep track of them. They’re mostly here so if there is certain content you like, you know where to find it!

Without further ado, here’s the things you might need to know:

c tags denote character p tags denote pairings d tags denote types of relationship dynamics

WIP: DVS

(An official title? Absolutely not. Do I have any idea what I’m actually going to call this series in the long run? Also absolutely not.) Premise (I’m not calling it “synopsis” because it sounds too official, and then I’ll overthink it): six girls with superpowers set out to help their community in little ways, never planning to risk any major danger. Of course, when do things ever go to plan?

Protagonists:      Gabrielle Davis: practical / eldest cousin / early 20′s / prophetic dreams, visions, and feelings + forcefields / (#c: praying for a sign)      Janessa Davis: passionate / middle sister to Gabrielle and Kimberly / graduating high school in first arc / healing quickly + boosts to speed, strength, and agility / (#c: heart and soul)      Kimberly Davis: headstrong / youngest cousin / 15 in first arc / summons and controls electricity / (#c: chaos child (affectionate))      Lynley Davis: hopeful / twin sister to Charity / mid-late teens / time manipulation / (#c: oh you are well-named)      Charity Davis: cautious / twin sister to Lynley / mid-late teens / affects plant life + affinity with animals / (#c: would it kill you to be hopeful?)      Kiera Davis: sagacious / only child / same age as Janessa / literal empath / (#c: beautiful bleeding heart)

Other Characters: (aka minor characters I’m likely to rant about)      Jack: (#c: I just wish you were a better man)      Luke: (#c: who could stay? you could stay)      Steven: (#c: you and I should stay the same)      Kevin: (#c: loyal. earnest. true.)      Other: (#c: the utter importance of impermanent people)

Main Relationship Dynamics: (#d: my sister’s keeper) = dynamics between any of the sisters (#d: love is worry) = family relationships in general (parental, between cousins, etc...) (#d: I’d take a bullet for you) = friendships (#d: why would they be miserable?) = romantic relationships

Platonic Pairing Tags: (#p: what a pair we are) (#p: how to save a life) (#p: anchors) (#p: triumphal tuesdays)

Romantic Pairing Tags: (#p: through the heart right?) (#p: no regrets) (#p: the choice I would’ve made)

--- Alright! I think that’s it for now! As I said, I may add to this (or otherwise change it) in the future, but this should be an accurate representation of where my thoughts currently are in the series. :) Thanks for reading! ---