#but there's no shame in abandoning a project if it's not working for you

[malopascal]

One shot: we found our way back to each other

"Can we please just talk..." Pedro begged, his eyes looking so tired and his composure exposing nothing but defeat and heartbreak.

A sigh left your painted lips as you avoided his begging gaze, looking through the room of his sister's home, silently missing the hours the two of you had spent in here, laughing, talking and making love.

"Talk about what? You told me two months ago that you weren't ready for a relationship, that I should find someone else who could settle down", you purposely threw Pedro's words back to him in hopes that they would also cause him the same pain it caused you eight weeks ago.

You finally focused your eyes on the Chilean actor and saw how he closed his eyes in shame and shook his head. "You're trying to kill me, mi amor" he whispered before opening his eyes.

"No, you killed me with those words. I thought that I had meant something to you, we had spend four months together, making all these beautiful memories that I can never forget", you spat as tears started to brim your eyes.

"I know, I know (Y/N)...".

"No, you don't. You don't know that I've been faking a smile for weeks, pretending that my life is so fucking awesome and continuing to work like you didn't rip my heart out of my chest, Pedro".

The actor took a step closer to you and quickly took your soft hand in his, his eyes were begging you to take him back. "Words can't describe how foolish I was. I thought that I had made the right decision, allow you to go and be free before my crazy and hectic life would get in between us, and we'd be forced to break up anyway...".

His words made you frown as you slowly shook your head in disbelief.

"Bullshit, Pedro. I accompanied you while you worked and traveled, still made time for my own life and friends and family and not once did I ever voice or think that your celebrity life would become too much for me...How could you make this decision for yourself and then punish me for it?", the tears were now streaming down your face, the aching pain in your chest making it hard for you to focus as you stared at your love. The betrayal still sat deep in your soul and you wondered if you could ever get past this.

"You tossed me aside for nothing, based on assumptions...And then you moved on like we never happened, like I didn't give all my love to you!" you couldn't help but increase the volume of your voice as you finally had the chance to speak about your heartbreak.

After Pedro had suddenly broken up with you through a quick phone call, he had blocked you and went on a promotional tour of his upcoming projects, making you feel lost and abandoned while he continued to live his life in front of the cameras.

Since the two of you were able to keep your relationship private, due to the fact that you were an actress as well, barely anyone noticed how you were crumbling and pretending like you hadn't lost the greatest love of all time.

"My love, I-" Pedro chocked back on a sob before clearing his throat and wrapping his strong arms around your waist, still looking at you like you were the only, most precious thing walking the earth.

"I just wanna know why. Why did you get rid of me like that?" you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, hating how your heart skipped a beat and a delicate sensation of adoration rushed through your body. You knew that touching him alone would have you weak, but in that moment, you didn't care at all.

"I'm almost fifty, it's been years since I had a serious relationship (Y/N), I have anxiety and assumed that it would take a few more weeks before you would get sick and tired of me and my job and leave me..." the actor confessed with a heavy heart.

"But I can't describe the agony I have been in ever since we parted ways. All I can do is think and yearn for you", his beautiful brown eyes gazed deeply into yours while he leaned in closer, his breath dancing along your lips as you let out a soft sigh. God, that man still had you so crazy in love and a part of you thought that he'd try to make up sappy excuses and then leave you alone.

"I am so sorry for what I did, and I know you're just as heartbroken as I am. It's my duty to earn your trust back and show you the blessing that you are to me. Please...." Pedro leaned in and pressed his soft lips against yours, frowning at the pure sensation of your soft lips against his. You pulled away, your head spinning from the passion while you stared deeply into his eyes, your breath coming out in short puffs as you were overwhelmed.

"Please what?" you exhaled as the tension in the room shifted from sad to something else.

He leaned in again, stealing another passionate kiss while his arms pulled your body closer to his. That's when you noticed something throbbing against your lower stomach. You couldn't help but let out a weak moan as your body was succumbing to this man.

"Allow me to win your trust back and show you that I am your man. Yours." Pedro whispered, his breathing increasing by the second as the two of you stared longingly into each other's eyes.

The wetness already had gathered in between your thighs as all you could now think about was feeling him move deep inside you, have him fill you up all the way and talk you through the sensual acts of love.

"I-" Pedro didn't even let you finish your sentence before he had stolen another kiss from your lips, his tongue tracing your lower lip and silently asking for permission. Which you instantly granted.

His big hands immediately started to roam your body, caressing your breasts and shoulders while he moved the two of you towards the bed.

He kissed your neck after having placed you gently onto the mattress, your silky black cocktail dress already being torn from your body. "I need to taste you", he begged.

You instantly opened your legs and quickly got rid of your thong before your love had his head position in between your thighs. "You're so wet" he praised while giving you a soft smile, leaning in closer to where you needed him the most before darting his tongue out and flicking your sensitive clit.

"Yes", you mewled while throwing your head back, your wetness sliding down your inner thighs while your love instantly got to work and devoured you right then and there. His eyes didn't dare to move away from your face as he needed to look at you. He needed the assurance that he was pleasing you, giving himself to you.

He licked and lapped at your swollen clit and drenched folds, dipping his tongue into your hot and wet cunt, loving the way you weakly moaned his name and grind your hips in sync of his movements. Behind your clenched eyelids, you saw stars as the pleasure took over your mind, body and soul.

"You taste divine" Pedro whispered, moaning your name over and over again while his eyes still didn't look elsewhere. He had always been in awe of your beauty and knowing that no other had seen you like this was making his heart swell in his chest with pride.

Before you knew it, your love was kissing his way up your body, positioning himself in between your thighs while he quickly got rid of his dress shirt and freeing his hard cock from its tight pants.

Your eyes fluttered open and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of Pedro staring down at your face, his eyes drinking in the beautiful sight of you. It took him a few seconds to let his hard cock slide up and down your folds, gathering the slick wetness before whispering how much he loved you.

You couldn't even answer as the sensation of his cock slowly sinking deep inside you overwhelmed you. Your inner walls welcomed the hardness as they stretched and took him deeper. A weak moan left your lips.

"I missed you so much" you chocked out before the first stroke hit you. Pedro closed his eyes and immediately started to snap his hips against yours, hitting your sweet spot over and over again while having leaned down and now gently kissing and sucking on your sensitive neck.

The pure pleasure raging over your body was too much.

The feeling of him buried deep inside you...

His weak moans of your name...

The quick motions of your body desperately wanting to reach that beautiful high together.

It was all too much.

Your toes curled as you felt the delicious knot form in the pit of your stomach, your inner walls were clenching onto your love's cock for dear life while the delicate shivers running up and down your back made it hard for you to focus on anything.

"I am right here, my love. Come on, take all of me and show me you love it. Take it all, it's all yours" Pedro groaned, his hips snapping faster against yours while his hand was now circling your sensitive clit, making the knot tighter and tighter by the second.

You clung onto his broad shoulders as the next deep thrust threw you into the wild, gushing and overwhelming peak. Your orgasm rippled through your body and you couldn't control it. Your inner walls clenched tightly around Pedro's cock as his warm spurts filled you all the way up. That man was almost screaming your name as he continued thrusting his hips in a sloppy manner, wanting this intense and beautiful sensation to never stop.

The weak moans leaving your lips grew softer by the second while the tremors of your high tingled through your body. Your eyes slowly opened and Pedro's adoring smile made your heart swell in your chest.

"I love you'" he confessed.

"I love you too" you responded in a soft huff, still trying to catch your breath.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 50: Hope in Half Desire

“I dreamt about you while you were away.” “People dream of me all the time, darling. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+, mdni. Brief allusion to history of SA, forced restraint See AO3 for other chapter-specific warnings

Around nightfall, Gale and the others had returned with a handful of Noblestalk from Halaster. Shadowheart hastily brewed it into a concentrate, and Astarion carried it to Celeste’s room with a grimace. After centuries without eating, he wasn’t sure if he had a natural aversion to mushrooms, or if it truly was that awful. 

When he looks in on her, Celeste is curled atop the sheets with her father’s journal, the displacer cub sleeping in a ball at her side. He knocks softly upon the doorframe to warn her of his presence. Noticing him, she shoves the book aside and sits up.

“Hi.” She breathes. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, like she was actually…happy to see him. 

Astarion gives her a small smile as he steps inside. “How’s the reading?” he asks, sitting at the edge of the mattress. 

“Strange.” She glances at the journal, “My father wrote about abandoning the Dark Lady, the falsehoods of her teachings...” she hesitates, carefully choosing her words, “It still feels…sacrilege, but I’m trying to give it the benefit of the doubt. ”

“And what finally convinced your father to abandon Shar? Perhaps it would work on you.” 

Celeste swallows. “My mother. Their relationship began as a sinister plan, but…he grew to love her more than his goddess.”

Astarion hums to himself, pursing his lips. Uncomfortable with certain parallels and eager to change the subject, he holds up the swirling, deep indigo vial of Noblestalk.

“How about we retrieve your memories and get this over with?”

She cradles it between her palms, wrinkling her nose and abandoning it on the nightstand. 

“Gods below, it’s worse than earlier.” 

“Shadowheart’s been tinkering with the potency. I was hoping you’d take it willingly this time.” Astarion says, “But if you’d prefer to be pinned down again, that could be arranged.” A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh?” Celeste tilts her head to the side, as if calling his bluff.

His smirk fades. He’d been expecting a biting retort. Not for her to be coy and play along.

Before he can respond, she uncrosses her legs and leans forward.  

“I dreamt about you while you were away.”

“People dream of me all the time, darling. You’ll have to be more specific.” The flirtation comes to him instinctively, like a familiar knife. This was the woman he loved, the body he was comfortable with, attracted to. But something about her advances was so foreign. So…wrong. 

“I think it was a memory.” She says. “You used to feed from me when you were a vampire. On several occasions, it seems…”

“You were an enthusiastic volunteer.” The playful air is gone from his voice.

“It does seem I enjoyed it. A shame I can’t sustain you that way anymore.” As she crawls towards him, the displacer cub abruptly leaps from the bed and paws at the cracked door, letting itself out.

“But there are others ways I could… sustain you.”

Astarion stares in disbelief, searching her face for any sign that she’s manipulating him again, or perhaps joking. 

“Come now, darling, we’ve made so much progress. You’re not relapsing into Sharran pain and suffering fantasies, are you?”

“It seems I enjoyed a bit of pain all along.” She says, her hand sliding towards his thigh. 

Astarion bites back the groan building in his throat and grabs her wrists, holding them in place as he leans down over her.

“I’m not sure we should do this.” he shakes his head. “And I don’t think you want to either.”

She arches her back, pressing her body to his, as she slips a wrist out of his grasp and traces the line of his jaw. 

“I’ve never wanted to remember something so badly…” she whispers. “You could make me forget my goddess…”

Astarion closes his eyes. Despite his resistance to her advances, he can’t help from leaning into her touch, pressing his face into her hand. Desire throbs at his core. Gods, he wants her. 

“How can I trust you? That this isn’t another ruse?”

“How’s this for trust?” She murmurs, hooking her fingers around the back of his neck and pulling him in. Her lips crush against his, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she deepens the kiss. Their last kiss had been a lie, but this…this was genuine. If not a little too desperate.

But it still wasn’t all of her. Just echoes. 

She tugs off her shirt, lying half-bare underneath him, and he tenses. Her eyes pour into his - she knows what she’s doing. Or this version of her does. Without her memories, Celeste is less reserved, and far more seductive than he’d expect her to be. She isn’t seeking escape or control. No, she just wants him .

But at her core, there was a reason his Celeste was hesitant about these things. 

And that was the heartbreaking part of it all. That in making her remember, she’d experience all that pain again. Perhaps they should allow her to remain oblivious. He could make love to her here and pretend everything was normal. Let her fall for him all over again, let those feelings turn her from Shar. Forge a new life, one where her past is only a shadowed memory…

“Stop.” he growls, more at himself than her, and gently pushes her off.  

As he throws his legs over the side of the bed, she hastily pulls her shirt on, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry-“ 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not- this isn’t you.” 

“You can’t tell me who I am! It isn’t fair. This is all I have. The only thing I know about myself is that I loved you. Or she did…Does. That…other version of me.”

There was a hint of jealousy in her voice. As little sense as it made, she was jealous of herself.

“Celeste, listen to me. I want this. Gods, trust me, I want this.” He takes her chin with his free hand and turns her head, looking into her eyes with desperation. “But I need all of you, darling. Not just scraps and fragments and a body acting on familiar desire.”

Astarion smiles in an attempt to placate her humiliation, resting his forehead against hers, and closing his eyes. Gods, this is painful. 

He grants her one kiss. Innocent, tender, comforting. She returns it hungrily, and he pulls away, his thumb resting on her lower lip as she blinks at him in surprise. 

“Come now,” he says, taking the Noblestalk suspension from the bedside table, “I know seducing me is an appealing path, but I’m afraid this is far more effective.” 

He takes her silence as her answer, and uncaps the bottle, raising the rim and parting her lips with it.

“Drink.”

She holds his gaze, looking at him under lowered eyelids, but allows him to tilt her head back. She stops to cough, wincing at the taste, before taking the rest from him and finishing it in one swallow. As she pushes the empty glass back into his hands, she rises to her feet, wiping her wrist across her mouth. 

“It burns…” she whimpers, running her fingers through her hair as she stares at the rafters. 

Astarion sets the vial on the nightstand as he watches her pace frantically. When she becomes more distraught, he crosses the room to stand in her path.

“Come, Sit.” he pulls lightly on her arm and she sways in place.

“No, you don’t understand, it-“ she looks at him wide eyed. “Something’s wrong.”

“Look at me.” he wraps his hand behind her neck and studies her. The flush of her skin had vanished, and her pupils were dilated.

“What...did you...?” She slurs with a look of betrayal before her head lolls back and she faints.

“Shadowheart! ” 

He calls for the cleric in a worried tone as he catches Celeste around the waist. Lowering her gently to the floor, he checks her pulse, taking a relieved breath when her heartbeat flutters beneath her skin.

The stairs creak under his companions’ footsteps as they enter the room. Shadowheart rushes to Celeste’s side, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“Did it work?”

Astarion scowls. “Did it work ? How am I supposed to know? That Noblestalk put her in a bloody coma!”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s not a coma,” she says, opening each of Celeste’s eyelids to check her pupils. 

“Did you plan this?” he asks, incredulous, “What possible reason could you have-” 

“One bad memory sent her into a fit. What do you think remembering a lifetime all at once will do?” Shadowheart snaps at him. “I mixed in a draught of angelic reprieve so they can come to her in dreams, slowly. Being conscious is the last thing she needs. If it works, she’ll wake as if nothing happened.”

“It’s rather brilliant, actually.” Gale murmurs admirably from behind her.

“And why,” Astarion asks through gritted teeth, “are you just now telling me this?”

“Your head isn’t straight when it comes to her, soldier.” Karlach says. “We had to keep you in the dark until she drank the Noblestalk.”

“We couldn’t risk you changing the plan.” Wyll adds.”which you are apt to do, when you assume you know better…” 

“Unbelievable. So because I have her best interest in mind, I suddenly can’t think clearly?” Astarion lets out a bark of laughter, scrubbing his hands over his face before he turns on the wizard. 

“I spent the last two centuries being controlled like a puppet on a string.” He seethes, “Pardon me if I don’t want Celeste to not bear the same-“

“Spare us the centuries of torture speech and be grateful they didn’t knock you unconscious as well, faerie.” Minthara growls. “That was my plan.”

He makes an irritated sound and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” 

Crouching beside Celeste’s unconscious form, he brushes hair out of her face with his fingertips. They linger at her temple, and he frowns. 

“Will it work?” he rasps, barely audible. 

“We have no reason to believe it wouldn’t.” Gale says. “But there is one more thing.”

Astarion slips a hand under Celeste’s knees and the other under her back, lifting her from the ground and carrying her to the mattress. His movements are stiff and controlled as he eases her down gently, before glancing over his shoulder at the Gale with narrowed eyes.

“What? ” He asks, a command, rather than a question. 

“Halaster had some insight into what happened. The Noblestalk will help but…the only way to truly break Shar’s hold is to destroy the connection to Nightfall. Otherwise, we risk her recasting the spell, putting us right back at the beginning.” Gale says. 

“Which means we need her to remember enough not only to turn from Shar, but to want to help us kill Keresta and Nightfall as well.” Shadowheart says.

“She’ll help.” Astarion says, staring down at her unconscious face. He sighs and leans against the wall, rubbing his temples.

“So. What’s next in this clandestine little strategy of yours?”

Shadowheart takes a seat at Astarion’s desk, crossing one leg over the other. 

“We wait.”

[rosescries]

Hey Rosey, how are you? I hope I'm not interrupting but I really, really, need help. One of the people that I love and admire is you, and knowing that you do art is a relief.

See, I have this problem regarding my art style. I just started a week ago and during that time, it's been tiring but surprisingly rewarding and fulfilling. I haven't done art before, and the only part of art that I amateurly mastered were the eyes, now, the way I draw eyes is just plain and chibi.

To further explain, I'll tell you the whole timeline.

I started making this on Nov. 6, this was my very first digital art, this is also when I was oblivious to art in general. I finished it in Nov. 7 and while bad and just plain ugly, I was happy with it so I continued.

Here is my second digital art. I started this from Nov. 8-11. To be honest, I was surprised by what I made. I honestly though I was going to get something ugly but....it was surprisingly decent. I showed it to my friends and peers, and they expressed positive reviews. That gave me the motivation to further enhance my amateur skills.

Now, this was made during Nov. 12-13. I wanted to focus on drawing the head, I also wanted to properly color and blur, add highlights and all that. And well, I was Really happy. I could actually see my progress. And I've never been happier. I showed this to my friends and they told me that I was progressing at an outstanding rate. I was ecstatic, and well, it gave me even more motivation.

Now, here's where the problem arises. On Nov. 14, I wanted to start focusing on the body, however, when i was ready to start drawing, it was like....I forgot how to draw.

I tried to draw eyes. But somehow, a simple, straight line appeared to be ugly. I kept erasing and deleting layers and just kept starting over, but whenever I finish a simple sketch. It was just plain UGLY. I never seemed to be satisfied with anything.

I changed direction, I tried drawing circles with IbisPaint X's ruler, but the shape seemed to be at the wrong position despite being on the center. I also had this perception where the circle seemed wonky. And I was using a ruler. A RULER, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A PERFECT CIRCLE.

Im got frustrated, and kept trying for the past few days. I asked my friends if loosing your art style or just forgetting how to draw is normal, that it's fine, and they told me it it, they say they get it all the time. But it never seemed to make my panic settle.

I searched online and it said that I have art block. It said that I was getting used to using the same style for so long despite only drawing for a week.

With you being an artist, I wanted to ask.

*Is this really normal? Is it normal to suddenly forget how to draw? How everything you draw seemed to be ugly?

*Do you have any advice on how I should handle this?

With every day that passes, I get more and more discouraged. I'm borderline hysterical, I want to cry and scream.

I need help. Please....

I'm so sorry that this post is so long, but you are someone who I can trust in this. I apologize if I'm disturbing you, and you are free to delete this. Just know that I am giving you a choice.

Again. Thank you, and Goodbye.

Firstly, I want to say your art is absolutely lovely. All three of them are wonderful.

Secondly, yeah it's normal. I get that sometimes where I'm just not happy with what I draw and it happens a lot with my writing even. I think it's just something that happens with all creative things, it's okay.

I don't know if I'm really the person to ask about what to do about it though. Because when I get that way I just... don't draw. Don't write, don't really do anything until I get the will to pick up the pencil again. That usually helps me, especially when I get frustrated with a drawing. I'll sometimes just abandon that drawing too and do/draw something else. And there's nothing wrong with that, it's a part of the creative process really.

I guess I'd just suggest taking a break from it. If you really want to draw, you could try something else? Drawing humans are hard, I will say. Even chibi humans. You could try something more abstract, I like drawing butterflies, flowers (these are hard too though), and decorative hearts. Just low effort doodles that can look really nice once finished.

Don't give yourself too much of a hard time about this. Art is hard, it can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Plus you're still learning! It's the time to make "bad art" and mistakes. Try things out and learn what you like and what you don't. All artists are their own worst critic. If you're frustrated and not having fun, just try take a step back and relax. It'll still be there to come back to and try again later. It's okay.

[moonstruckme]

poly!marauders x reader but reader is contemplating their relationship?

(IDK IF YOU DO ANGST SORRY 😭)

No worries!! It's definitely not my most practiced genre but I'm happy to give it a try :) Honestly unsure if this came out as angsty enough, so please do not be shy and let me know if not! Thanks for requesting

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 886 words

James, Remus, and Sirius balance each other out perfectly. James is so sweet he should come with a warning label, always showering everyone in affection and bringing joy into every room he's in; Remus emanates a quieter sort of contentedness, and he provides a calm, rational perspective when the others need it; and Sirius takes everything they have together and dials it up to eleven, the depth of his feelings so intense that being around him is almost a sort of high.

The issue is, you're not sure where you fit into all that.

The boys seem to care about you, but you can't really figure out why. You have none of James' lightness, Remus' patience, Sirius' humor. You've been trying to hold onto this thing between you, to enjoy it while it lasts, but waiting for the other shoe to drop is becoming maddening. Eventually—someday soon, likely—they're going to realize that they're better off without you.

Naturally, you're pondering this while Sirius braids your hair, James chattering about why he thinks you all need a dog (Sirius has pointed out that you already have him) and Remus reading with his back leaned against your side.

You're trying to figure out the least needy way to ask why they care about you when Remus nudges you with a movement of his shoulder.

"You've been quiet tonight, dove."

It's far from accusatory, but the other boys pick up on the implication nonetheless. Suddenly, all the attention in the room is on you. It's a bit overwhelming.

"I was just thinking..." you say tentatively, unsure of your words. "Do you think we'll all stay together?"

James looks as though you've slapped him, and though Remus doesn't turn, you feel the muscles in his shoulders tense.

"Why would you say that?" James asks. "Of course I think so."

"But..." Merlin, there's no easy way to go about this conversation. "I just, I don't really see what I'm bringing to the table here." You cringe at your own words, awaiting judgement—or worse, epiphany—from your boyfriends.

Sirius, whose hands have been motionless in your hair since you spoke up, abandons his project entirely, letting your hair drop limply from his grasp. "Wha—what does that even mean, what you bring to the table?"

Remus turns around, placing a reassuring hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Easy, love," he murmurs. "Y/N, can you tell us what you're worried about?"

You look between them as Sirius comes to sit beside Remus, feeling stupid and immature. "Sorry, it's not...a you-guys thing. It's just that, I can see how well you work together, and why you love each other, but I don't really see why you'd love me." Your voice gets quieter as you finish, shameful of your thoughts and the position you know you're putting them in.

Sirius releases a disbelieving exhale, slumping into Remus' side, and the taller boy wraps an arm around him, looking at you like you're one of his crosswords and have just given him a particularly perplexing clue.

"Sweetheart," James says, pulling your attention towards him, "it's not a matter of why we would love you, just that we do. Do you need to list off reasons for why you care about every person in your life, or doesn't it just happen?"

"I don't need to," you admit, "but I could. I love you guys because of who you are."

"And so do we," Remus says. "Dove, we care about you. Isn't that enough? Can you trust us with that?"

"It's not..." It's not a matter of trusting them. You'd trust any of them with your life, with everything. It's that you don't trust yourself. It's that you're worried you won't live up to it, to this earnest affection they're offering you. You don't think you deserve it.

"How about this," Sirius says, in his typical cut-to-the-chase manner. "If we didn't love you—and have damn good reasons for loving you—we wouldn't be with you. So there." You must look unconvinced, because Sirius arches a brow. "You don't think that, with James' bod and Remus' hot accent, not to mention my boyish charm, we could have anyone we wanted?"

You crack a smile, but Sirius just looks at you, awaiting an answer. You shrink a bit under his gaze.

"You could," you say sheepishly.

"Right." Sirius grins suavely. "And we used those combined faculties to snag this hot piece of ass." Without warning, he reaches out and drags you into him, the two of you piling an unfair amount of weight onto Remus.

You squeal, and James shouts "Oi! Leave our poor Moony alone," tugging on Remus' arm until Remus sighs, disentangling himself from Sirius and going to sit beside James. James ruffles his hair, planting a triumphant kiss on the taller boy's cheek. If Remus blushes a bit, you pretend not to notice.

"Got that?" Sirius looks at you threateningly, but his voice is soft, his eyes imploring. "We want you, baby. Finders, keepers."

James nods as if this is a sage decree. "Think you might be able to get used to that?" he asks, and you know he's only partly joking.

You relax into Sirius' hold, giving Remus and James an apologetic look. "Yeah," you say. You can definitely get used to this.

[gyll-yee-haw]

Could you write Donnie crushing on the reader and he walks in while she's in the shower or like changing and he acts like it's nothing, he apologizes and leaves so she can get situated and then that's that BUT he CANNOT forgot about it and he goes home being a perv thinking of how beautiful she is and he gets horny

Donnie doesn't know when to stop

Absolutely gross, hottest thing I ever wrote. I love pathetic men <3

Warnings: accidentally perv!Donnie, he's OBSESSED with you, masturbation (m), edging, ruined orgasm, he's so sub! it hurts, pain!kink, virgin!Donnie, unprotected sex

Fucking 3k words, looks like Maria doesn't know when to stop EITHER 😭

---

You had to do a school project together and he was losing his mind about it

Like yeah, you were friends and you used to hang out all the time, but only at school

Now he was going TO YOUR HOUSE

It felt so intimate just being there

It was nothing much, but he was so obsessed with you it made him act that ridiculous

He was so nervous that he just couldn't sit still at home, so he decided to head to your place, even though it was a bit earlier than you expected

He thought he could just hang out in front of your house until the time you were expecting him to come

The problem was that your mom was leaving the house and found him seating there

"Oh, you must be Donnie! Y/N is waiting for you, come in!"

He should have said no, that it was still too early, but your mom said you were waiting... so maybe you were ready? He shouldn't keep you waiting

"I'm going to work right now. She's in her room, upstairs." Your mom told him, before closing the door and leaving

So he went upstairs, obviously

You just got out of the shower, and was pacing around the room, a towel wrapped around your body, looking for a cute outfit to wait for Donnie

Your bedroom door was open, since you thought you were alone at home

Donnie was very shy, walking upstairs without making a sound, just thinking about what should he say to you, rehearsing in his mind what kind of greeting would make him sound... not terrified

He stopped immediately when he saw you

It was so wrong to just stand there and stare, but it was impossible not to

He watched as you placed your clothes on the bed, letting the towel fall at your feet

Felt like his blood abandoned his body

It couldn't be real, he must be dreaming...

But it only lasted a few seconds, until you looked towards the door and saw him

You let out a scream, completely horrified

Then you slammed the door shut

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? SHOULDN'T YOU BE HERE IN AN HOUR?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I swear I didn't... I wasn't trying to... listen." He tried to explain, but he couldn't find the words. He was probably more embarrassed than you. "I think... I think I should go"

"Yeah, you should..." was all you could say, sitting on the floor wondering if you'd ever be brave enough to see his face again

He walked home absolutely heartbroken. He couldn't believe that he had ruined EVERYTHING. Now you thought he was a perv... you'd never talk to him again

He didn't feel anything but shame and sadness until he went to bed that night

I guess that's when the adrenaline rush wore out and he thought about it all

It didn't last more than 15 seconds, but during that time you were completely naked right before his eyes... and so close he could smell the lotion on your body

Maybe he was crazy, but the fact that you were getting ready to see him...

He imagined you applying the lotion to your skin a few minutes before he walked in... you were probably thinking about him while you did so... I mean... you knew he was coming over soon

And as if the thought of you applying the lotion to your body wasn't enough to drive him crazy... now he knew what your body looked like

He shivered as the sight of your tits crossed his mind

His hand slowly traveled to his pants zipper

God, he felt so guilty for doing this, it was so so wrong

But his cock was so so hard :(

Poor baby, was in so much pain

Leaking already!!

But the guilt was eating him alive, you were his friend...

That's why he decided to torture himself a bit, would make it all a little less wrong... if he got some punishment, you know

He started stroking his shaft and he got close so pathetically quick

And then he stopped

His heart raced. He had never edged himself before...

He waited for it to fade, before starting again. And then stopping again as he got closer

It was quite addictive... he started to let it go further each time, stroking himself fast and getting impossibly closer to release, then stopping

His cock was leaking so much that it all sounded like a wet mess, masking his ridiculous moans

He started to imagine you there, doing it, punishing him

"Gonna teach you not to spy on naked girls, you fucking perv"

And he would moan "please, Y/N, I'm so sorry..."

I mean, Donnie has an incredible imagination, it was so convincing that he even cried

All while denying his release over and over and over again

Until he couldn't hold it anymore

It was an accident </3

But his orgasm hit him out of nowhere

He cried out "no no no!" as ropes of cum shot out of his cock

He immediately stopped stroking himself and placed his hand on the base of his cock, squeezing it hard enough to hurt

He ruined his own orgasm :/

And he just laid down there looking like a pathetic mess. Tears on his face, his hand and clothes full of cum but his balls still hurt so much from not finishing it

But now he was so so overstimulated he couldn't even dream about touching himself any time soon

Eventually, he passed out from exhaustion

When he woke up the next day, he felt absolutely sick

How the hell was he supposed to see your face at school

Let's be honest, that wasn't the first time he masturbated thinking about you (number was closest to 100th tbh)

And he could always look you in the eye as if nothing happened afterwards

But it felt different now that... he had seen you for real and you knew that

Oh god... were you mad at him? You probably HATED him

He thought about calling in sick

But some force was dragging him out of that bed

He didn't understand it, but the truth was that his obsession with you grew considerably and he just needed to see you, even if you never spoke a word to him again

And part of him... enjoyed it? The idea of you punishing him like that

So yeah, he went to school that day

But he avoided you like the plague

If he saw you in a corridor, he would run in the opposite direction

Spend so much time hiding from you in the bathroom

But he couldn't hide forever

You sneaked behind him when he was looking for something on his locker

"Donnie?" You called, making him drop everything inside the locker, making a terribly loud noise, everyone looked at him

You bursted into laughter, helping him pick some things up

"Thanks." He said, completely unable to look you in the eyes.

"I think we should talk." You said calmly, after seeing how nervous he was

"Yes. Y/N, please, I can't tell you how fucking sorry I am..." he closed his eyes, cursing himself mentally for being so stupid

"It's okay, Donnie" you placed a hand securely on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. I knew you were coming over, I should have been more careful."

He held his breath as soon as your hand landed on his shoulder. It was like your touch reactivated his memories. Then he was stupid enough to look at you

You were giving him such a sweet, sincere smile

God, you were SO beautiful he felt like dropping to his knees right there

"What if you walked me home today? Then you can stay and we'll work on the project. Forget anything that happened, we need to finish it this week." You asked

"That's... that's a great idea." He nodded, even though he would rather die than go to your house anytime soon

But as soon as he saw how okay you were with everything, he calmed down a little. So your friendship wasn't ruined...

You two caught the bus and talked all the way to your neighborhood, like you always did, nothing seemed to change

Then you walked to your house and he started go get tense again

You noticed and you held his hand as you led him through the house

And it wasn't anything new, you always held his hand when he was nervous

Aww a couple of besties <3

Soon enough, he was in your bedroom, where it all happened the day before

You sat on your bed, grabbing all the books you would need, taking to yourself (cause he wasn't listening) about the ideas you had

While Donnie sat on the floor hallucinating about how that was the exact same spot you left your towel fall the day before

If it was right now, it would fall directly on his lap

Like, he didn't even dare to imagine actually touching you, but he would kill someone to have that towel

He would hump on it like a beast

Again, Donnie's imagination is so good and Donnie doesn't know when to stop

That's the source of 99% of his problems

He felt himself getting hard

"Hey, can I use your bathroom really quick?" He asked, before he started sweating in front of you

You nodded and gave him the directions

He walked in, locked the door and splashed water to his face

How the hell was he supposed to get any work done with a fucking boner on

Maybe he should just take care of it quickly in there

In your bathroom, fuck

The amount of times those walls had witnessed your naked body...

He wondered if you had ever touched yourself in there

Yeah, my boy lost his mind

Started stroking himself fast, he couldn't wait to finish and just get everything done so he could go home

But then..... he had the worst idea ever

Cause after what he discovered last night, he didn't want to finish so fast anymore

He just needed to relieve a bit of the pressure, then he would feel better

His dick would probably soften anyway, then he would do something about it back home

He stroked himself until he was on the edge of spilling... then stopped, shoving his dick inside his pants again and going back to your room

Did I mention it was the worst idea ever?

Cause he walked into the room to find you laying in bed on your belly, uniform skirt barely covering your ass

You were focused on whatever you were reading, pen in your mouth

"Come here." You called, without looking at him

He walked back to where he was sitting before, on the floor, but stopped when you said: "no, come sit on the bed, I wanna show you something"

He wanted to say 'oh no, I'm more comfortable on the floor :)' but who the fuck would buy that

He swallowed hard and sat at the very edge of the bed

He didn't want to look, but he could see your pretty little baby blue panties from that angle

And he felt like crying

"I think I have to use the bathroom again." He blurted out loud

"Donnie." You sighed, sitting down next to him. "Are you okay? You've been acting so weird today..."

He knew it wasn't a great opportunity, but it was... an opportunity. One he never had before

"No, I'm not." He admitted. "I have the biggest fucking crush in the world on you. Always had. Since we first met."

"Oh Donnie, you're so silly." You chuckled. "I know that, I asked you what's wrong with you today."

"What do you mean you know that?" His eyes widened.

"It's as obvious as that boner you're trying to cover with your hands" you shrugged

My boy was absolutely flabbergasted

He went through all shades of red the human eye can catch

"You know..." you sat a little closer to him, taking his hands in yours. "Yesterday I was so excited that you were coming over... I wanted to dress up all cute. Picked up a time we would be here alone... thought that maybe, by the end of the afternoon, I'd get you to take my clothes off. I just didn't expect you to catch me without them already... that's why I was so upset, I wanted to take things slow, you know."

He was pretty sure it was all still part of his hallucinations, there was no way you were saying that

You looked down to his pants and you could literally see his cock throbbing

And he caught the way you squeezed your tights at that

"Can I kiss you? Please..." he murmured

"Yes, Donnie." You smiled, leaning close to his lips

It was the sweetest kiss in the world

Until your hand 'accidentally' bumped into his boner :(

And he moaned against your mouth

God, that made you feral

"Donnie, baby, let me help you, you look like you're in so much pain..."

His heart raced... it was like you KNEW

Like you knew exactly what he was into

But let's be honest, he was so horny he was into absolutely everything at the moment

"You don't- you don't have to" he smiled shyly

The most beautiful smile in the world, how could you not want to??

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" You said as you slowly unbuttoned his jeans

When his cock jumped free before your eyes, both of you could have cried. Him, from relief. You from the most absolute desire

"Tell me what you like, baby" You began stroking him slowly

"Huh?" He got all nervous. Everyone already thought he was a freak, he didn't need you to think the same. "I-I like you..."

"Yeah?" You smiled at him. "I like you too. You're so sweet, Donnie, can I ask you something?"

He nodded, bitting him lips to prevent loud moans to escape.

"Has anyone ever sat on this pretty cock?" You asked, giving him your best doe eyes

"No..." he admitted, a little embarrassed

Before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand, screaming "stop, please, stop..."

You stopped everything, putting both hands in the air and looking at him wide eyed

"I'm so sorry, Donnie... fuck, you didn't want this? You should have told me, baby, you don't ever have to..."

"No... I wanted this. I wanted this for so long... I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you..." He said. "I just... I was about to cum."

"Well..." you laughed at him. "Isn't that kind of the point?"

Shit.

"Tell me what's on your mind, baby, I wanna help." You offered, seeing how his cock was rock hard and extremely unsatisfied

"It's just that... I like to... hold it sometimes, you know? Feels really good." He admitted, absolutely ashamed of himself

Those words, on that shy tone of his, sent a shiver down your entire body

"Donnie..." you basically moaned his name. "You're so perfect... I can't express how badly I want you, fuck..."

He smiled widely. You kissed that shit out of that gorgeous smile

When you realized, you were already straddling him

"Can I sit on your cock, please? I swear I won't let you cum until you beg me, okay?" You asked

He never agreed to anything that fast, my boy was in HEAVEN

You removed your panties and he helped you slowly sink on his cock

You don't remember ever being that wet before, but it still hurt a bit, because he was so big :)

He was so horny he felt like he might pass out

And then you started moving up and down, up and down

Oh sweet baby boy cried again :(

I mean... all that was happening would be enough to get him desperate, but let's not forget how last night all he got was half of the worst orgasm ever

My boy was starving

"Please, please, stop, I..." he said, and you immediately stopped everything

"Oh baby..." you brought a hand to his face, wiping his tears. "Stop torturing yourself... three times in a row? Let go for me, baby, come on... can I make you cum? Please?"

Yeah, you said you were gonna make him beg, but you were the one who did it, i know

It's just that... Donnie is just a little baby who doesn't know when to stop :(

Of course he said yes, you asked so politely

You removed his cock from you, cause letting him cum inside would be too much for the first time

Considering the state he was in, it could send him to a coma lol

You stroked him so good, prasing him the entire time

"You look so pretty right now, baby, all fucked up for me"

"Come on, I want you go let go for me, you can do it, baby, you deserve it..."

Fuck, he never came that fucking hard in his life

You kept stroking and he kept shooting him load, all over your school uniform :/

He cried out so beautifully and you swore he wasn't coming down ever, he came so muchhh <333

And he just likes the pain of you still stroking his sensitive cock after it was over

Yeah, Donnie doesn't know when to stop :(

[dangoren]

⚠️ WARNING: LONG POST (no complete works)

Yo look at what I found sitting on my computer. Drew this half a year ago and never bothered to finish.

Hi guys, I don’t usually write a lot (nor post that frequently), but I just wanted to let you guys know I’m constantly drawing even when I don’t post a lot.

For every finished drawing, there’s at least 3 unfinished/abandoned ones, or stuff I just didn’t post.

(There are many more, but I’m too embarrassed to show them)

I’ve been experiencing burnout and I wanted to give my unfinished projects a chance to see the light of day.

If this post gets enough notes or enough feedback, I will give some of these projects another go, so please tell me which ones you like.

Or if you don’t like any of them, if you have any ideas in mind you want to see, please make a request. I would love to try them out.

I want to thank the people that have stuck with me for these past 50+ posts over the span of 4 years 😅. I also want to thank the people that left likes and comments. Your feedback and support is much appreciated and motivates me to push forward.

I hope my drawings can put a smile on your face, and I hope you have an awesome day.

Myself: Hey! You haven’t posted any new clone wars stuff lately, only yugioh crap. And now the only clone wars related thing you post are half baked ideas and loose sketches??? You have no shame. And this post is hideous.

Me:

I’m working on it!

[relaxxattack]

Piggybacking off the last anon, what is it you like about Jane so much? I find my feelings on her kind of mixed but I lean towards positive.

okay i haven’t read act six in probably like 5 years so bear with me here. *cracks knuckles*

jane is sooo so interesting and it’s really a shame people miss like everything fun about her.

pre-scratch she used her detective work to literally succeed at tearing down the crocker cooperation, to the point that HIC has to fucking abandon ship and head into another universe to have another shot at her evil empire. pre-scratch jane is also fucking hilarious! if you didnt enjoy her antics with john as nannasprite you must just have no heart

meanwhile HIC breaches a new universe, and her FIRST fucking order of business is to NEUTRALIZE JANE CROCKER because of how goddamn detrimental she was to HIC’s plans the first time around.

not ONLY does HIC pump subliminal messaging and brainwashing into nearly every aspect of jane’s life, she also tries to straight up mind control her basically whenever possible! she ALSO sends assassination attempts after jane 24/7! (people will seriously try to say that jane lived a safe normal life… as if she wasn’t almost killed by walking into her backyard.) this is because HIC is fucking scared of jane, as she very well should be!

jane is also NOT a boring weepy annoying crybaby like everyone and their mother complains about. jane is literally the most fucking supportive friend and emotion-repressing dumbass you could ever hope to meet. jane combines john’s emotional repression and jade’s intentional cheerfulness together into one of the most fucked up cases of emotional repression in the whole comic

act 6 suffers from a LOT of shitty writing choices, but it’s not jane’s fault the whole act turns into a soap opera— and she’s ALSO not the only one who acts all soap-opera-y either! literally all of the alpha kids suffer from this, people just like jane the least so they project it all onto her. despite the fact that she did her very fucking best to NEVER talk about her feelings, to the point where she ONLY started telling people about shit when she was mind-controlled or took mind altering substances to make her do so! and you can say “ohhh that’s stupid she shouldn’t repress things in the first place how dumb” but, one she’s sixteen, and two, everyone eats that shit up when it comes from like. literally any other character.

people (cough hs2 writers) act like she would actually be “pushy” with a relationship on jake— as if she wasn’t literally the one who helped him make the decision to explore dating dirk?? because she thought it was the right thing to do???

jane is incredibly thoughtful and mature and people really throw all of those traits out of the window with preference for a version of the story where she Comes Inbetween Their Fave Gay Pairing as if she wasn’t, again, the one who got them together. jane is also extremely interesting in terms of queerness; she’s got the makings of a really interesting arc, not to mention she’s the only human girl that dresses mainly masc! there’s a lot there that people just don’t care to explore.

people just have less patience for the prospit kids in general. not to mention homestuck fans love to be misogynistic and berate jane for stuff they love the men doing, or claim she’s coming between them when she’s not, etc etc. and then because no one was writing fun meta posts about her, nobody ever rereads the comic to grab little scenes or lines to expand the online discussion about her! and then because there’s no discussion about her, people assume she’s boring and don’t go looking for bits to start discussing, which cycles on and on forever until we have the ripple effects we see of that misogyny today. which mostly consists of, “oh i hate jane because she was a villain is hs2”, or, “i know hs2 isn’t canon but i still don’t care for jane because she doesn’t do anything that interests me.” (and she’s only not interesting because of the cycle i mentioned before causing NO ONE to have meta discussion about her).

idk, it’s been a while since ive read so i could be talking out my ass but that’s what i’ve got.

TL;DR: jane is fucking COOL, she just suffers from intentional fandom ignorance. and she’s also a canonically hot, fat, masc woman, so i don’t know what else you could possibly want.

[literary-motif]

Memento Mori

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You are in trouble. Isaac finds you.

Four months late to the party, but I managed it in the end. I had the idea for the twist randomly two-ish months ago, and stubbornly refused to write the fic since then. Thank you to @chilliesillie & @kieran-rhoades for the idea.

“Isaac, are you listening to me?” Asirel asked, eyeing the man on the other side of the desk with a deep frown. It was not like Isaac to be distracted, especially when they were going over cases. Still, since he had been here, Isaac continuously glanced at his phone like a teenager waiting for a reply from their crush. “What is the matter?”

He did not even have the shame of looking guilty. Isaac merely shook his head, biting his lip nervously as he unlocked his phone again, checked his calls, then messages, turned up the ringtone, and locked it, sparing Asirel a brief look before returning to the files in his hands. 

“I’m waiting for a call,” he answered drily.

Asirel suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. This would not do. 

“From whom?” he asked, setting aside the papers of the case and turning to his laptop. He had his ways to find people anywhere in the world. Whoever it was Isaac was checking up on -- and Asirel had a sneaking suspicion -- he would find them in no time. 

He did not bother waiting for a reply before starting to type, images of CCTV cameras pulling up on his screens depicting you walking down a crowded avenue, no doubt returning from an investigation. That had not been twenty minutes ago. 

“It looks like your pet project is busy,” he commented, relishing the dark scowl Isaac shot him at his nickname for you. In truth, sometimes nothing delighted Asirel more than teasing him a little for his obvious affection for you. He had warned him of it many times, reminding him that he was setting up his heart to be broken. 

In their line of work, the shot delivered by their enemies was always aimed at the heart. It was why Asirel prided himself on not having one -- no affections meant no weakness. Isaac had followed that example in perfection for many years, and Asirel was sorrowful watching his creeping demise. It was only a matter of time now. 

“They are not my ‘Pet,’ Asirel,” Isaac said, his tone venomous, “and if you call them that again, I will remind you that it is well within my capabilities to abandon this case and any other you have me working on and leave you to fend for yourself.”

Asirel did not even blink, an amused grin adorning his face. Isaac was a delight to meet again in person, if not for the valuable insight he brought to the table, then for his very unique character. 

“Are you that worried?” he asked instead, tearing his eyes away from the screen -- and your lone figure walking down a smaller, more secluded alley, no doubt on the way to where you had parked your car -- and settling on Isaac. 

His jaw was clenched, the lines on his face rigid as he wrung his hands and checked his phone again. “They usually check in with me after talking with a client,” he admitted in a murmur, “and they did not reply to my messages.”

“Maybe they are driving?” Asirel asked, his idea immediately disproven as he pulled up another tab. The car was still parked, standing prettily by the edge of the road you had left it on, and you were not in it. 

“The car hasn’t moved,” Isaac said, “I don’t know what they could be doing for this amount of time. They should be in it by now. They should be driving by now, Asirel. Where are they?” 

“Well,” Asirel replied, watching you walk into the alley but never coming out on the other side. Of course, this very street would have a blindspot for his surveillance technology. “It looks like they got held up in an alley off Excelsior Road.”

Isaac was on his feet in an instant. He shuffled his papers into the folder, making them stick out around the margin but not caring about it in the slightest. 

Asirel watched him gather his things, stuffing the papers in the leather briefcase he had brought before turning to him with wide eyes, his breathing elevated and his jaw so rigorously tense, he feared Isaac would break down in tears right there in his office. If he looked closely enough, he was sure he could see Isaac’s hands shaking. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, leaving his coffee untouched on Asirel’s desk as he stormed out of the room. 

“Call me about the case,” Asirel called after him, only half-heartedly believing Isaac was in any state to comprehend what he had told him. The thought crossed his mind that it was probably not the best idea to let him drive in this state, but it was already too late for that anyway. 

Asirel’s gaze fixed on the CCTV camera and the alley only it allowed him a small glimpse into. 

In truth, Isaac had every right to be concerned. Asirel got the feeling that things looked bleak for you.

Isaac ran down Excelsior Road, his heart beating frantically as he got closer and closer to the alley Asirel had told him you had walked into. 

You were fine. You had to be. He did not know what he would do if you weren’t. 

He felt sick to his stomach, nausea churning in his stomach from worry and doubts and fear. 

Why had he let you go alone? Why did he not insist on only doing cases together when you had pushed him for more independence? What possessed him to let you wander off alone? Why had he set up the possibility for you to be hurt? 

This was his fault. His fault. 

He was supposed to look after you. He had promised you he would protect you. 

Isaac called out your name, bracing a hand against the wall of the alley as his legs threatened to give out. His instincts kicked in, his other hand hovering over the gun he kept on him as his eyes darted around, assessing the location he found himself in. 

There was no sound other than the rushing blood he heard in his ears and the thundering heart he felt against his ribcage. 

He took hesitating steps inside the alley, his gaze roaming over the ground in search of anything that would tell him you had been here.

His heart seized painfully at the first drop of blood he saw before him. Isaac blanched, raising his gaze slowly to look at the large streak of blood on the ground further ahead, leading to a nook in the alley. 

Time slowed. His body felt heavy, and Isaac had to fight against this sudden force trying to drag him to the ground with every fiber of his being. He moved, creeping towards the blood. His ears were ringing. 

A voice in his head screamed at him to stay alert, to keep a hand above the gun, to grip it, to pull it, but he paid no mind to it. He was an easy target, he knew. Anyone could seize this opportunity and end him, he knew. He just didn’t care. 

“Pickle?” Isaac rasped, stepping around the blood and turning the corner. 

Your eyes met. Isaac wanted to sob in relief at having found you. Then his gaze settled on the large gash on your neck and the blood staining your skin, running down your body in a steady stream -- and he found himself crashing to the ground beside you. 

“Pickle!” he screamed, his eyes darting across your body. His hands hovered above you, not daring to touch lest he should hurt you. He did not know what to do. Too many things raced through his mind. How much blood had you lost? How deep was the gash? 

Isaac felt his heart threatening to burst, his lungs burning. When had he started holding his breath? He could not breathe. You were hurt, and it was his fault. You were covered in blood, and it was his fault. 

What could he do to alleviate your pain? What could he do to help you? 

You mumbled something indecipherable, your head lulling to the side with a groan. Your eyelashes fluttered, and Isaac got the dreadful feeling that if you closed them, it would be the last time he would see you staring back at him.

“Hey,” he tried, his voice shaking with the crippling fear of losing you. “Hey, hey, Pickle. I’m here. It’s alright. It’s alright!” 

Isaac rested a hand on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin and further smearing the blood on it. The sight made him feel sick. He gave you a reassuring smile anyway. 

“Don’t close your eyes, dear,” he demanded, his other hand fumbling in the pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out a cloth handkerchief. It felt instinctual as he pressed it against your throat, trying to stop the bleeding. 

You groaned again, dizzily looking up at him. “‘sac,” you murmured hoarsely, lifting a hand to wrap around his wrist as the other came to rest on his face. You brushed your thumb under his eye, wiping away the tears he had not realized were escaping him. “Love you,” you said, the exhaustion creeping up on you again. 

You felt drained. Your head was spinning, and your strength was steadily slipping until your grip on Isaac loosened, and all you could do was look up at him deliriously, trying to abide by his increasingly frantic request for you to keep your eyes open. 

“Don’t do this to me,” he begged, holding you tighter. His free hand cradled your cheek, running through your hair soothingly to give you as much comfort as he could. 

He knew he had no plan. He had not called for an ambulance. He had not called anyone, too stunned and too far into his panic to think clearly. There was no escape from this. Even if you held on for longer than seven minutes, an event that was getting more unlikely with every second that passed, you had lost too much blood. Your wound was fatal, he knew. 

You were slipping through his fingers.

“No,” Isaac cried, tears clouding his vision until he could no longer see your face, only red, red, red from all the blood you were stained with. “No, stay. Stay with me! What can I-- How-- Please. Please!”

You were fading, and as your eyelids fluttered and you attempted a smile for him, he knew that would be the last time. 

“Don’t you dare!” he pleaded, shaking you a little as your eyes closed. 

They did not reopen.

“Don’t-- don’t you-- don’t--” he stuttered, gathering you in his arms instead. “No, no,” he continued, his eyes wide as he trembled, feeling your warm blood staining the front of his shirt. “Don’t-- no, no-- can’t be-- you can’t-- no, no.”

You were ripped out of his arms suddenly. Isaac was too far in panic and shock to fully comprehend what was going on. 

He saw Asirel leaning you back carefully against the wall before his eyes settled on him for a moment. Asirel pulled out a vial filled with something blood-red. It blended perfectly with your blood as he dropped it onto your skin, aiming for the gash in your neck.

Isaac merely watched uncomprehendingly. He wanted to crawl over to you, gather you in his arms, and lie there until the earth stopped spinning. 

The vial was empty. Asirel stepped back, keeping his eyes locked on your slumped figure before finding Isaac again. “You owe me,” he said. 

Your eyes shot open. Sitting up straight, you curled into yourself as painful coughs wracked your body. 

Isaac watched you speechless, hesitatingly reaching out to you as if to make sure you were real. 

You took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly as you tried to catch your breath. 

He was on you in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his heart, and burying his head in your hair. 

“I love you,” he cried, slowly returning to reality as he felt you breathing and alive in his arms. “I love you so much. Please don’t ever do this to me again. Oh, I thought I had lost you-- I thought you-- Love, Love, don’t do this to me again.”

Asirel watched the scene before him. A melancholy smile made its way onto his lips. He knew it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened again. 

What game would he need to play to get more vampire blood, he wondered.

[mumms-the-word]

recently I’ve seen several of my mutuals expressing desires to delete every creative thing they’ve done or take a break from their creative projects (some of them indefinitely) or just take a break from tumblr and other social spaces. some of this is due to burnout and some of it is due to hate and bigotry, which breaks my heart

friends I get it, I’ve been there. the burnout, the depression or anxiety, the imposter syndrome, the adhd shame of moving on to another project and abandoning another, the dull days where you’re just not inspired or the days you overthink the notes/kudos/attention on your work, i get it 1000%

but don’t delete your work! you’ve worked hard on it, and people will find it! a slow-growing following is still a following. a post that only gets 5 notes is still valuable and still capable of getting more as time goes on. one day someone will find your blog or your work and scroll through it for two hours. they might not like or reblog everything but they’re seeing it and enjoying it. if you delete your work, how will they enjoy it?

slow growth (for you, your blog, your post, your fic) is just as valuable (if not more valuable, in my opinion) as going viral in an hour

take a break when you need it. set aside the creative thing if it’s only bringing you pain or stress. but don’t delete it. if nothing else, the posts of the past can be your waymakers to see how you’ve grown and improved. don’t let the numbers convince you of what’s valuable. the numbers don’t matter in the end

I know I’m just one creative, a tiny drop in a vast ocean of other voices, but I’m telling you, speaking from experience, don’t delete the work you’ve done. Sometimes you can never get it back and you’ll regret not being able to watch it unexpectedly grow, or look back at it and see just how far you’ve come <3

I see you. I see your pain and your struggles. and I see your creative works too. they exist and they are beautiful and they are valuable

please don’t let numbers convince you otherwise

[saiscribbles]

What do you think of Skinny Jasper and how do you think she and Jasper would get along? They give me big sister and little sister vibe or friends whatever

I actually have a pretty complex headcanon about this!

I think if Jasper met up with the other Earth Quartzes it would be tense. It was mostly Jasper's lines in Fragments that put me on this line of thinking: "The only problem you have are your friends." "Can't you see they're holding you back?" "They're afraid of your power." "Those so called friends of yours don't understand, they want you to feel bad for being yourself."

This instantly gave me the impression Jasper was projecting. Big time. Maybe she was too intense even for the other Quartzes. And from some of the things she says in Earthlings it makes me think she's probably said some cruel things to them, especially the other Beta Kindergarten Gems.

"Your weakness embarrasses Homeworld You suffer because it's what you deserve! We all only get what we deserve."

"Every Gem is made for a purpose: to serve the order of the Diamonds. Those who cannot fit inside this order must be purged!"

"Earth is a prison. I got out because I'm better than this place."

Jasper I feel has always been very isolated. No other Earth Quartz was on her level. After the Earth was abandoned by the Diamonds Jasper was put into the service of Yellow Diamond's court while everyone else was shoved off to do busy work on the Zoo station by Blue Diamond. I doubt she's seen the rest of them since.

I think deep down Jasper's true core motivation is justifying her own existence. She came from the slapdash Kindergarten that existed just to quickly make more soldiers to fight the Crystal Gem rebellion. Homeworld lost that war anyway. The planet she was made on is now considered a point of shame. And as far as anyone knows her Diamond was slain. No matter how perfect she came out or how powerful she is her origins are always going to haunt her. So she has to prove she was worth making in the first place.

[yuesya]

Lyra isn’t here.

Aventurine spends all of one single panic-inducing moment wondering how in the world Lyra could’ve disappeared into thin air in a total span of less than thirty seconds of being left alone in his apartment, before there’s suddenly a soft meowing sound that comes from somewhere behind the table.

He cranes over, and looks down. Lyra is sprawled out on his hardwood floor, stomach-down; the table had been large enough to hide her completely, it seems.

In front of her, the little cat-cake meows again.

Bemused, Aventurine leans down, “What are you doing?”

“Aventurine.” Bejeweled blue eyes raise up to look at him in acknowledgment, before returning to stare at the little critter that’s being joined by another one of its companions. “What is this? … A cat?”

“Not exactly.” He could certainly see why she would think so, though. To the uninformed, the little cat-cake looked to be… well, a cat stuck in a little cake. The one staring curiously back at Lyra is clearly the bravest one of the lot than Aventurine has been gifted with in his home. “They’re actually a new life form –created in Herta Station by another Genius Society member, number eighty-one Ruan Mei.”

Failed experiments, according to the Genius’ standards, and supposedly it was the Nameless Stellaron host who had taken up working with them. Ruan Mei herself had lost interest and abandoned the project, apparently.

“… You like pets?”

“Ehh, well. They were a gift from a coworker, I guess you could say? Dr. Veritas Ratio said that the station was starting to get overrun, and these guys wanted out, so.” Aventurine shrugs casually. “Honestly, it feels more like these little guys picked me instead.”

One of the little cat-cakes waddles over to Aventurine on its stubby little legs, and starts meowing insistently. Obligingly, Aventurine picks them up. It feels less like he’s holding a cat and more like he’s hugging a warm cushion. The small critter snuggles into him, evidently pleased with Aventurine’s own body heat.

“Dr. Ratio.” Lyra is thoughtful for a moment, “Your… liaison with the Intelligentsia Guild?”

“Yeah, he’s the one.” Aventurine raises an eyebrow, “You’ve met him before? Funny, he’s never mentioned that.”

“No,” the Halovian girl shakes her head. “But you’ve talked about him before. I remember.”

Oh. Well, if that’s how it was…

The little cat-cake in front of Lyra suddenly leans forward, poking her directly on the tip of her nose. Lyra blinks, her attention shifting back to the pleased little thing. Stares at it for a moment, and then leans forward to return the same gesture to it.

Aventurine lets out a startled little laugh. Lyra lifts her gaze towards him –zero embarrassment, zero shame.

… Not that he would’ve expected anything else from her. He shakes his head fondly.

“Alright,” Aventurine says, and reaches down to pull her up, “Let’s get you off the ground already, yeah? There’s a third one of these little guys hiding in one of the other rooms –c’mon, I’ll introduce you to all of them.”

[flokali]

this new update got me thinkin and now i’m SAD.

i imagine scara gets pretty needy after his whole meltdown. in his mind, this only proves he truly isn’t worthy of godhood. no matter what, he will always be less-than. he talks so much about how lowly everyone else is during his godhood ascension because he’s projecting. he feels worthless, he feels unworthy, he feels afraid. ei was right to abandon him.

so being chosen as your consort… doesn’t sit right with him at all. he immediately assumes you also want to control him or use him for your own gain, but he’s also in no position to tell you no. he’s not even worthy of your presence.

he knows the kind of things that are expected of him, so he rushes through it a little. he’s very careful not to show he’s shifted since that battle, afraid he’ll irritate you if he’s too open with his feelings. he initially didn’t want to accept your offer, but now that he’s here, the idea of being abandoned again makes him feel sick. he’s very quick to jump in bed with you. he thinks he needs to convince you to keep him around.

he’s very careful with his words. not once do you question his whole self-righteous facade has slipped. not for several months until you’re laying with him in bed, cooing sweet aftercare in his ear. you were particularly rough with him tonight, so you loved on him a bit more afterward.

his mask started to crack. you noticed the tears clinging to his eyelashes and asked him if everything’s okay. he huffed out a sad laugh.

“after all the pain i’ve endured… in the end, i’ve only changed hands. gone from one god’s puppet to another’s sex doll,” he whispered. “do i at least fill this role properly?”

basically, scaramouche resigns himself to his inferiority after his failure. now all he can do (from his perspective) is try to convince you not to abandon him too.

God fucking damn it this is plaguing my mind… take this and my first born child, nonnon ;; this ask literally got me out of writer’s block this is insane — (shameful kofi plug here)

Warnings: implied sex, scara is going through it, soft yandere, hurt/kind of comfort, you’re both implied to be naked, etc. Ask to tag.

You’d originally had only assigned him as a consort in title, your plan had been to have him as a companion – the sex that would come alongside it was a thought you’d pushed partially to the side. You’d been aware of Scaramouche’s struggles in the past, but he’d always been someone you’d found yourself drawn to comfort and you’d hoped to help him by having a new role for him, one no one else would have.

Kunikuzushi, however, upon hearing your request has but a crisis, a case so severe of panic and doubt invading his mind he can’t help but shut down entirely.

“A consort…” His porcelain hands find their way to his silky hair as he helplessly tugs at the dark strands. He would be your consort, of course a part of him was ecstatic to know you’d picked him and yet, he couldn’t help but ask, why him? All of the feelings he’d thought he’d worked out come rushing back, he was a failure and an embarrassment; nothing about him was worthy of your time and affection and yet you’d still personally picked him amongst everyone else.

You’d chosen him and he couldn’t have you abandon him, he couldn’t have you realize how utterly worthless he truly was and even if it meant minimizing himself to a doll for your pleasure and using his looks against you he’d rather you use him as you wished than have you toss him aside.

Maybe that’s why he was so eager to bed you upon the first couple of days within his role as your consort, so truly desperate to try and show you he was going to be the best fuck of your life so you would do anything but abandon him.

It’s why, upon hearing his words, you can’t help but feel the need to puke almost immediately, the food from a mere hours ago wanting to escape into the open once more as you registered Kunikuzushi’s words, you reflectively cover your mouth at the sick feeling in your stomach as you shoot up from the bed.

What you had previously thought to have been a fun time suddenly felt tainted as you desperately tried to find the words to say.

“Kuzushi…” Your voice was but a whisper in the suddenly cold room, “is that… is that what you see this as?”

Is that the image you have of us? You wanted to ask, but your words failed you. Is that how he saw you – no, is this how he saw himself?

You instinctively want to reach out to him but the wide eyed look he shoots you makes you recoil back into yourself, his purple pupils are blown wide as he stares back at you, seemingly realizing what he’d said.

“Is this not what it is?” The former Harbinger asks, “Sex… that’s what you want from me, right? It’s why you keep coming back, right?”

“Of course not!” You defend yourself, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to rationalize what you were hearing.

“If it’s not that then why?,” he narrows his teary eyes, “Why would you need me? I’m… what good am I?”

“Kunikuzushi,” you mutter his name, “this was never just about us sleeping together!”

“You say that but fail to answer me what it is then!” He screams, his voice rings in your ears as you stare at him in bewilderment, “Don’t… don’t try to comfort me by saying such things, I… I don’t mind if you only see me for sex…”

“But you do mind.” You insist.

“And what makes you think that?” He laughs, the action completely out of touch with the tears streaming down his face.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I-I’m not.” He says but as he raises a hand to his face he feels the dampness in his cheeks.

“Kuni, I… let’s not continue this,” you sigh, “I don’t want you –“

“No!” He lunges towards you, sending you tumbling into the bed with him now laying on top of you, shaky hands reaching towards your neck as he speaks, Kunikuzushi’s voice trembling as his hands helplessly tighten against your throat, “D-don’t you dare, no… you’re not leaving me, not again… yes, yes. Let’s do it again, come on, I’ll– I’ll show you, hah… I’ll show you, you can’t get rid of me… I’ll be your sex doll again, so please…”

“I… you were never a sex doll,” you say, reaching out to caress his hair, his tears hitting your own cheeks, “why… Why do you think that? Kuni… ghk”

“Then why,” his grip on you starts making you dizzy, “why are you here?”

“B-because… I like you.” You smile, your hands still caressing his hair with fondness.

“Why…? Why?” It’s a mere whisper that could’ve been lost if you’d been anyone else.

“I don’t know,” you lie, you weren’t about to open new wounds – not as the hands that once dripped your throat began loosening –, “but it’s not because of your looks or… sex.”

His breath hitches as he searches your eyes for signs of lies, for a sign your words were nothing but a desperate attempt to get him to calm down, but he couldn’t; all he saw in your eyes was sadness and adoration, both awfully misplaced he wants to proclaim but the cavity where his heart was supposed to beat finds itself tightening as his body gives out.

Soft whimpers are heard as he grasps your shoulders in a search for much needed comfort. You let him; you let him search for comfort in your embrace, you let the tears stain your bed, and, perhaps most importantly, you let him stay by your side.

An unspoken promise you won’t let him go.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

You can totally delete this if it makes you uncomfortable or you just don't want to answer or anything

trigger warning : period (?)

I know you didn't describe Pup's body (and that's so great)

But i was wondering, in a world where they are afab (assigned female at birth), how would they react if they have periods?

Would their old base had shamed Pup of them? Or would Pup have something, like a treatment, to not have them?

How would Pup react if they got their period and it got a stain on their bed sheets or uniform?

(Not me again projecting myself because I have my period at the moment lmao)

✨️ anon

Yes, I like to keep most stuff for Pup gender free so that people are able to picture them being a guy/gal/non-binary wolf-person if they like! However I will happily write a lil something for if they were AFAB and had periods ☺️

You sighed and thunked your head back into the pillows, cursing softly as you felt a dreaded wetness pooling between your legs and an aching burn work itself through your tummy. Your period had started. With a small whimper you sat up and reached out for the lamp, standing away from the bed and sighing with relief when you realised that by some miracle you hadn't stained the bed yet.

However your pyjamas were another story.

There was nothing else for it, you had to raid your drawers and steal yourself to the bathroom so that you could shed them and get something to quell the bleeding. Luckily the house was quiet and dark, Ghost was asleep. At least that was something - you wouldn't have to face him seeing your dirty clothes and questioning why you were up past lights out.

After getting changed you headed to the kitchen and stuck your pyjamas into the washing machine, not thinking of anything else but hiding all evidence that you'd made a mess. Once all was clean, you breathed a little sigh of relief and sat cross legged in front of the washing machine, watching as the dark compartment filled with sloshing water and began to spin.

You were glad for being able to just deal with it right away, not having to worry about anyone else see you or judge you. The cramping, still blazing on low in your belly, reminded you of the training sessions you’d have at Branhaven, sometimes performing so badly in your dizzied and weakened state that you’d be sent to the kennels as punishment. Sometimes of course they’d catch you out from the blood on your clothes and send you off just for knowing you were on your cycle, ‘predicting’ that you’d just be a nuisance. The rest of the day would be spent clutching yourself like a feeble child, feeling dirty and sweaty the whole time until you were able to leave and change. It worse if you were actively on a mission, any little mistake would be blamed on your ‘condition’, and you’d be constantly threatened with abandonment.

“What’re you doin’ up then, ay?”

You jumped, not expecting Ghost to walk in on your late night contemplating. He shone a torch low at your feet, but from his shadowy position you could see that he was only in his boxers and t-shirt, his unmasked face was squinting out at you in the dark.

“Sorry, Ghost,” you murmured sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I had some- I had to wash my pyjamas.”

“Alright…and why’s that?” He asked, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his free hand.

“My um- my period came,” you sighed.

Ghost’s head lifted in understanding. He flicked the light on at that wall, causing you both to blink furiously. In the cold harsh light, you found your cheeks warming, now embarrassed that he was having to deal with you. You just hoped he wasn’t going to be annoyed about your upcoming performance the next day…

“You need anything?” He asked, crossing the room to the cupboard he usually kept the first aid kit in. “I got some paracetamol here if you’re feelin’ sore. Can get you a hot water bottle if you’d like?”

You blinked, not quite prepared for his pragmatism until you reminded yourself of exactly who you were dealing with. Of course Ghost would be understanding. It was obvious now, you smiled and nodded and then gratefully took the pills and glass of water he’d prepared for you.

“Go get yourself comfy n’ lie down, Pup. I’ll get your hot water bottle to you once it’s ready.”

You were about to tell him he didn’t need to go to the trouble but he shot you a hard look that wasn’t easy to disagree with. Easier to just go along with it, you decided.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you said softly, smiling when he grunted his acknowledgement.

After you were settled in bed, Ghost soon joined you again and tucked the fluffy hot water bottle under the covers for you. Even after that though, he remained when you expected him to leave. He settled by your side and ran a hand over the top of your head, softly fussing at your ears until you let out a content purr like sound.

“Poor thing,” he cooed, cupping his hand over your cheek. “We’ll need to go easier tomorrow, huh?”

“We don’t have to,” you yawned, blinking back the sleep that darkened the corners of your vision. “I’ll still be putting in the effort for you Ghost.”

“I know you will, Pup,” he chuckled. “I know. We’ll see how you get on. Just do me a favour and get a good nights sleep, darlin’”

You rolled your eyes at him, but nodded. He was too nice sometimes you thought, he’d be such a pushover if you ever tried to take advantage. Not that you wanted to.

“Night Ghost,” you yawned. “Thank you…”

[moonstruckme]

Hey, I read your James potter fic where reader is insecure about her acne and I was wondering if you could do a similar one where reader has a big nose? (Kinda like a Roman nose?) totally not self projecting!—yes I am— anyways thank you!

Hi gorgeous, thank you for requesting!

Small disclaimer that I imagine James as desi so him also not having a non-euro-centric nose is a part of this :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

When James walks in on you brushing dark powder onto your nose, you feel caught. 

“What the hell is this?” he asks. His tone is more comically curious than accusatory, but your face heats anyway. “Babe, I swear every time I leave you alone, you acquire some new makeup thingy I’ve never seen before. And I lived with Sirius, so I ought to know most of them.” 

You do your best to blend the powder, sending James a smile in the mirror. “Sounds like you shouldn’t ever leave me alone,” you say. 

“Seems the only solution,” James agrees, bringing his arms around your waist. He sets his chin on your shoulder. “What’s this one?” 

“Contour,” you say lightly. 

James’ eyes cloud with confusion behind his glasses. He regards you in the mirror. “I guess I have heard of that one before,” he admits. “You’re using it on your nose?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah.” 

“What for?” 

“Just, like,” you’re trying to sound casual, but you can’t really look at him, “to make it look a bit smaller.” 

For a minute, James just watches you. You brush at the powder on your nose, unsure whether you’re trying to use it or make it go away. It seems like it looks bad no matter what you do. 

“Why do you want to do that, angel?” James’ voice is tender. It tells you he already knows. 

“I’m just trying something new.” 

“But why would you want to make it look smaller?” 

You sigh, and he kisses your shoulder, comforting you even as he interrogates you. “I don’t always love the way it looks,” you murmur. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder. You abandon your efforts with the contour, your eyes sticking to your bathroom counter as he moves to your side. Somehow, voicing the insecurity feels worse than the insecurity itself. You’re awash with shame. 

“Sweetheart,” James says. “Hey, look at me.” 

You tilt your head up. He’s giving you one of those smiles that seems more for your benefit than his, not at its full capacity but beautiful nonetheless. He taps his nose. 

“Think you should put some of that on me too?” 

You feel your face contort before you can check it, mouth and forehead pinching. “No.” Your voice comes out incredulous. “Of course not.” 

“My nose is about the same size as yours,” he says. It sounds like he’s pleading rather than arguing with you, the way he’s speaking so gently. “Why do yours and not mine?” 

“B—because,” you sputter, “it’s not for you.” 

“Why not?”  

You shake your head. You feel backed into a corner. You don’t know why, you just know the way it is. 

“Angel,” James says softly. “Look, I know things are a bit different for you than they are for me. No one tells guys we have the wrong nose. But does it seem fair to you that you should feel like you have to hide yours?” He works his hand behind your ear, thumb stroking at your jaw, and you want to argue that you’re not trying to hide it, that you’re just tweaking it if anything, but you’d be lying. “Your nose is perfect,” he insists. “It’s part of the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. You really want to mess with the prettiest face I’ve ever seen?” 

He cocks an eyebrow at you, and you try to fight your smile but it wins out in the end. Your boyfriend’s grin magnifies in response. 

“I’m waiting for an answer, sweetheart,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes. “No,” you mumble. 

“Correct,” he laughs, taking your face between his hands.

He squishes your face together so your lips push out. When he kisses you, his nose slides against your own, big and bumpy and perfect. Part of the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. His mouth pushes on yours with an ardent sincerity. 

You remember the contour too late. 

James comes away with a smearing of dark powder on his dusky skin. You lick your thumb, wiping at it. He pays you no mind. 

“Are we ready to go? Sirius’ll be all moody if we’re late.” 

You laugh. “You did this on purpose,” you accuse. 

“What?” He glances past you into the mirror and gives an insouciant shrug. “Is this not the look?” 

You roll your eyes again, trying and failing to look vexed. “Come here.” 

He steps forward gamely to let you rub makeup remover over the smudges on his nose. When you’re done, you do yours too.

[flower-boi16]

I think what's actually alarming about Helluva Boss and Vivziepop is that the shower suffers from heavy creator-fan enmeshment, and the writers/Vivziepop don't see themselves as the problem for it. It's like they see themselves as the victims, too, while encouraging their fandom's toxic mindset and behaviors.

The writers/Vivziepop are not only too entangled with their fans, but they're THINKING like fan artists/fanfic writers instead of actually making a show. There's a difference between writers of a show and fanfic writing. When you take up the mantel to create a show you have to carry yourself in a way and write your show with a point otherwise you end up with shows like Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel, Miraculous Lady Bug, SVFOE, SPOP, and other shows that fall into that category. Some of them focus more on the shipping than the point of their show to begin with.

What makes a good show is having that distinction or maintaining that professionalism. Creators of shows should NEVER let themselves sink into the cesspool of their Fandoms because they should be focused on their story/message instead of all this shipping/woobing bullshit.

TLDR: Helluva Boss never had potential with VivziePop holding the reigns to begin with. It's too disorganized and unfocused, and with the Fan Enmeshment, it was never going to grow or expand from its fanfic-y feeling. If the creator of the show never grew up, we should never expect the show to grow, too.

Though it is a shame since it could have been charming, had someone more professional taken the show.

Viv definitely was never cut out to handle a big project like this. I’ve said this many times before, but ya, Viv writes like a fanfic writer; everything with how messy the structuring of how her shows is and how poorly they are planned makes me think this.

It reminds me of when I tried to make my first fanfic and just went in without a plan with how to structure it which led to me just abandoning it early on. Viv writes like that.

She didn't listen to criticism of her Zoophobia comic and she still isn’t listing here. She shifted the focus of HB away from the premise to shipping nonsense and now we have this weird mess of a show that doesn’t even know what it wants to be anymore.

Season 2 seems to prioritize relationship drama over the actual premise which caused the show’s downfall. Hazbin feels a bit less fan-ficy but it’s still very messy.

Viv just crams too much shit into too little time which results in the pacing being awful. She paces her shows like a fan fic writer. It feels like she only came In with a small understanding of how show running works and jumped right into the industry because she was excited to show off her gizzalion OCs she had since high school.

Everything about HH/HB feels amateur. I really think that before you get into storytelling you need to actually study how to create good stories, like there are YouTube videos out there you could watch for free that give a run down of what is good or bad writing.

You don’t need to spend 20+ in school to be a good writer but you need to have a basic understanding of how to even write your ideas before you start making stories…which Viv clearly does not.

HB Season 2 in general doesn’t feel like a natural continuation of the first season. It feels like a fan-fic written by a fan after season 1 ended posted on wattpad that the show runners decided to animate and voice into a full season.

Viv should have learned how to run a show before jumping into something as ambitious as this, but she didn’t, and look at what we got.

[kotias]

Warzone - a Poolverine fic

Chapter title: Your Hands On Me, They Feel Like Heaven

Rating: E

Status: Ongoing (1/3 chapters)

Current word count: 3,595 words

Summary:

Being a mutant sucks, sometimes. Sometimes, your cells will battle one another to the death, leaving you sobbing in your bed. Or out of it. Fully naked, in the middle of Blind Al's living room.

Excerpt:

“Oh yes, go deepeeeer—oh fuck, this is good,” Wade groaned, closing his eyes and leaving his lips parted as Logan complied, pressing harder into the muscles. He came back to the bowl, preparing more paste, and he concentrated on the left arm, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling down gently, gradually dragging the soothing agent down the member and malaxating it into the skin and muscles.

When he arrived at the forearm, his thumbs joined around the crook of the elbow, and went down the carpal tunnel, which led to another deep moan that sent shivers down his spine. “Oh shit, didn’t know that could feel so good.”

“Carpal tunnel?”

“Yeah. Fuck, I do use it a lot, don’t I?”

Logan smiled, reaching the palm and gently massaging the paste into it, flicking some skin flakes out of the way and concentrating on the rough spots until he felt it falling lax in his grasp. “Alright, one done,” he commented, reaching back into the bowl, and placing himself by Wade’s right side to repeat the same operation.

He had to start actively ignoring the effect that those dramatic groans and moans had on him, and even more aggressively ignoring the twitches he perceived in Wade’s nether area, fully and unashamedly open to his view.

It got worse as he lathered the paste on his fingers and pressed them into the man’s chest; he reopened his eyes and they met in stunned silence. His breath caught in the base of his throat, and he cleared it, looking down to the pectorals to keep control on his work. He felt like an idiot; it was obvious, fucking obvious that Wade had abandoned shame as a concept long ago, and that he was the only one truly caring about this current situation. He felt like a fool, assuming that somebody like Wade would truly pick somebody like him out of a crowd; nobody would.

Nobody would.

Come read chapter 1 here!