#commercial writing

[scintillatingslime]

Slime Writes: Effective and Dynamic Dialogue Tags and Action Beats

A dialogue tag is text associated with dialogue that indicates who the speaker is, and/or how the dialogue was spoken.

An action beat is actions your character's actions (both internal and external). When paired with dialogue, action beats can also indicate who's speaking.

In the following examples, the green text is the dialogue tag. The purple text is an action beat.

"It's not natural," he said. She shook her head and laughed. "It's perfectly normal." "You just plug it in?" Johnny interrupted.

Dialogue tags are useful tools to ensure that the reader always knows who is speaking. If a conversation goes on for too long without a tag, the reader might have to start counting back to remember who's talking - and you never want that.

Here are a few notes on using dialogue tags effectively.

Action beats can effectively replace said/asked phrases, and tend to make a more dynamic and lifelike scene.

An action beat is actions your characters take.

If dialogue tags tend to look like this:

He says, "sorry, I'm retired." "Are you sure you won't help?" she asked.

Then action beats tend to look like this:

"Sorry, I'm retired." He shrugs. She rubs the back of her neck. "Are you sure you won't help?"

You don't need an action beat and a dialogue tag. You also don't need an action beat for every line of dialogue - just like you don't need a regular tag for every single line.

Action beats are also a great place to tuck in characterization, internalization, and descriptions.

"Sorry, I'm retired." He shrugs. It's slow and heavy, like he hasn't slept in twenty years. The light at the end of the hallway flickers and she rubs the back of her neck without thinking - and regrets it. Why is she always so fidgety? But she can't give up now. Not like this. "Are you sure you won't help?"

Dialogue tags can slow down a scene, but action beats can really clutter it up. Ask yourself if your action beat is adding anything new to a scene, or just repeating the same information over and over.

Myckenzzie's eyes fill with tears. "No, I can never go back." "But you can't stay here." She shakes her head, eyes damp with sorrow. "You don't understand." "Of course I understand. It's just a bench warrant, baby. We can get it taken care of. I'll help bail you out." "It's not a bench warrant! It's... it's a gang thing, okay?" she cries, salt water rolling down her cheeks.

(You might also find that if you keep repeating the same beats, you end up using silly, thesaurus-grabby terms. If your scene starts with crying and ends with an outpouring of sorrow-inspired oceanic dew, consider this dropping some of the emotional beats.)

If it's already obvious who's speaking, you don't need a dialogue tag.

In this example, the dialogue tag is unnecessary - the action beat already does it's job.

Johnny waved his hand and interrupted. "You just plug it in?" he asked.

Check to see if you can remove any dialogue tags without removing meaning. If you don't include the he asked, the meaning of the text stays the same - it just has fewer filler words to slow readers down.

It's also okay to go for a few lines without directly indicating who's speaking.

Johnny waved his hand and interrupted. "You just plug it in?" Susanna nods. "You port it right into your brainjack. It's totally safe." "I'm not so sure. What if it has a virus?" "There's no virus, trust me. I checked it out myself." "Alright, but... my backup drive is broken. If this goes wrong, I might be kaput." "Trust me," she says.

If you're good at giving your characters a unique voice, you may be able to go on for longer stretches without needing to indicate who's speaking.

If tone is already indicated, you don't need to staple tone indicators onto your dialogue tags.

The way you set up your scene will give the reader a lot of information about how things are being said. Trust the reader to understand how the characters are speaking. Consider the following:

Tanya slams the door. "I don't know! I don't know, okay? And I'm sick and tired of telling you the same thing over and over." Gerome's arms are crossed and a muscle in his jaw flexes. "I knew it. You've been lying to me this whole time." She whirls around like a wolf ready to charge. "Give me my phone back, Gerome. I'm done with this and I'm done with you."

Now, let's go back and add tone indicators - just in case the reader didn't pick up on the emotional beats.

Tanya slams the door. "I don't know! I don't know, okay? And I'm sick and tired of telling you the same thing over and over," she screams. Gerome's arms are crossed and a muscle in his jaw flexes. "I knew it. You've been lying to me this whole time," he spits with anger in his voice.She whirls around like a wolf ready to charge. "Give me my phone back, Gerome. I'm done with this and I'm done with you." Her voice warbles with sadness and rage.

The second version is clunkier and delivers the same information twice - but it's a bit worse than that, since we've taken away the lovely spaces the readers could have used to fill in the scene in an organic way. Now, if the reader had imagined Tanya as being reserved and stoic, they're forced to hear her screaming and warbling.

Conversely, if your scene is feeling a little limp, consider stripping out dialogue tags and replacing them with action beats instead.

Don't pull out your thesaurus for dialogue tags.

"I love ice cream!" she beams. "No, you can't have seconds," he chortles. "But I want extra dessert," she pouts. "Then you can get a degree in business and become the CEO of Monopolized Ice Cream International," he guffaws. "Well, I already got a degree in business law, so maybe I'll just sue you for that ice cream!" she giggles.

Using too many flashy words for dialogue tags can make your passages seem melodramatic and over-acted, like Power Rangers making huge, exaggerated movements.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Red Yummy

Based on the post by @spacedace. Basically it's a joke that Red Robin (the restaurant with the little jingle: Reeed Robin: Yummm.) Isn't a thing in the DC world but is one in the Phantom world.

The rip in the multiverse was an issue the Justice League was not at all prepared for. Sure they had incidents where visitors from an alternate universe have crossed over to their side or they have gone to one. There are times when they meet doubles of themselves, both as allies and as enemies.

They have been to different Earths, with different histories, different countries, and that one particular time, even different beings that ruled the planet.

It's always been an adventure where at the end of it, the doorway to both worlds is sealed shut, with little or no chance of it opening again. The friends they made. The sights they saw. All gone. Fine. Over.

That was, until a villain from a different world, attempted to attack Clockwork's Tower. The Justice League was not aware of Clockwork- Master of Time, Weaver of Realms, The Concept of Between- but they noticed that he had been attacked when other worlds started spilling into theirs.

People were falling through glowing green portals, stumbling into buildings that weren't there before. People who were just going out for walks would be zapped away and replaced with their confused counterparts.

Parts of the sky glitch into others, replacing the soft blue with brown or black, little patches scattering around the world. Cities vanish for a few hours, sometimes replaced by others sometimes not, and animals never before seen running amok.

It was a mess.

The League did everything it could to help, but it was hard to stretch their reach to the help then world when all reality was being thrown into a mixer and set on chaos.

A lot like busted pipes, the Leaugers would run to cover a leaking pipe only to have the water build up in another and burst there and then scramble to cover that one before the rising water drowned them all.

Thankfully the Justice League Dark was able to use magic and find the source of the leak. The Infinite Realms known as the web that linked all universes, are usually only accessible by the dead, or in Constantine's case having friends in high places.

"Ghost Writer owes me a favor," Constantine said while the rest of the Leauge watched a flouting green book descend from the sky. It flipped open, expanding into a gateway. The smoke of the book curled into little missy hearts.

"Ghost Writer?" Zatanna gawked "How did you get such a powerful, and notoriously recluse, being to owe you anything?"

"Let's just say, we both appreciate the finer things in life and that ghost has a rather fine ass" Constantine leered. No one had asked for any more detail, although Zatanna had the expression of someone who had bitten something sour the whole time.

Ghost Writer had given Constantine a warning that his power would only be able to protect five living souls. Any more would be at the mercy of the Infinite Realms'.

Humans that wandered into the Realms were more often than not driven into madness, became hopelessly lost, or had their souls swindled by beings that dwelled there. Not that it wasn't surprising.

After all, the living did not belong there, so of course they were a danger to the Realms' structure. Hell, there were rumors that a living being could produce fresh uncorrupted ectoplasm when killed or even kept like livestock.

Constantine did not want to find out if the rumors had any truth to them.

To be able to travel safely they had to fall under a powerful ghost's protection and Ghost Writers let them know to pick their five best.

It was decided that Constantine would go as their expert, Batman as their strategist, Wonder Woman as their diplomat and protection, Superman as second protection, and Zatanna as another magic user that could combat the dead.

The rest of the league remained, doing their best to hold their universe together as the team of five rushed off to put everything to right. It was agonizing not knowing what was happening or how the mission was going but they did what they could and placed their trust in the five.

Many of the Justice League didn't say it, but it was the remaining Bats that sort of kept everything afloat in their father's absence. Each one leads a group of young heroes, easily countering and controlling their self-appointed sectors of the world.

Nightwing and Titians.

Red Robin and Young Justice.

Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Oracle and the Birds of Prey

Robin and the Blades.

All five groups agree to use the Watch Tower as a central base to coordinate their defenses against the world falling apart. Trading information with each other quickly and efficiently, and using this new information to prepare for more ripples of universes, showcasing that Batman had taught them well.

Following their example, the rest of the Justice League did what they could to minimize the damage. It was on the second day of constant relief efforts that everything was snapped back to normal.

A giant wave of sound- the noise sounding a lot like a grandfather clock strick repeating over and over again- as things that were not meant to be in their world vanished and their own people and things returned.

The shy's patches were removed and the right color returned.

Even property damages that were caused by the incident were reversed as if reality falling apart was nothing but a dream. No wreckages to clean up, no people had gone missing, and best of all, no casualties had been taken.

The Leauge gathered around Ghost Writer's book watching it open as the five returned, cheering and screaming, giving them the proper hero's welcome. Then right behind their teammates, a second group followed through.

Three glowing figures, all dressed in the same black and white outfits, and a ship carrying four humans. Batman introduced them as the allies who helped defend Clockwork's Tower and keep the multi-universe from collapsing.

He did admit that just because it was no longer falling apart, it did not mean that the rip had been closed. In fact, it was the only thing left to do but it was proving to be difficult due to Clockwork himself not understanding why their world wasn't healing.

Clockwork couldn't leave the Realms for too long- if no one was there to keep Time running the same thing would happen all over again- but he did give them equipment that could in theory patch things up on their side.

They just needed someone who understood the equipment.

Team Phantom, led by Danny Phantom, one of the flowing figures was happy to volunteer. They would be staying for three years, to strengthen and rebuild their Universe structure.

Team Phantom consisted of Dan Phantom, Danielle Phantom, Jasmin Fenton, Tucker Foley, Samantha Manson, and Westley Weston. All young, kind, strong- Batman vouched for the non-powered members claiming they could go toe to toe with his kids- and all much to the joy of many young heroes- attractive. They played an essential role on the team, doing whatever their people and kind did to help Clockwork, staying out of the League's way.

They all seemed happy to live as close to civilians as possible and despite their strength and combat training, Team Phantom was more like a research party instead of a hero.

Since they would be there for three years- more depending on the Speed Force's effect on the timeline grumbles Tucker- the seven had chosen to set down some roots within their dimension.

The three Phantoms needed Ectoplasim to live- a rare substance in the Justice League's universe- so they chose Gotham as their new home. Batman was more than willing to allow them into his city, as long as they knew not to interfere with his work.

Things settled, The Justice League moved on to other missions and other issues while Team Phantom ran tests, gathered information, and worked on the timeline.

The only real issue Bruce had with Team Phantom, was that a majority of his kids were romanticly interested in them.

Dick's love-struck sigh, whenever Dan wandered by, would often lead to useless backflips in an ill-fated attempt to impress him.

Jason would conventionally be lifting weights shirtless whenever Jazz came by with an update report. Then he would mention some novel or other that had the girl's attention far better than his abs.

Steph had taken a very large interest in gardening and at the same time, started wearing shorter shorts and tighter tops because Sam seemed to adore flowers.

Cass meanwhile found every excuse there was to be dressed in the prettiest dresses she owned whenever Wes was anywhere near her. She even wore light makeup- a real sign of how much she was interested in the conspiracy theorist.

Duke seemed over the moon whenever Tucker asked for his personal help on anything technical-related. It did his son wonders that someone thought of him first when it came to tech- Duke has always been a bit self-conscious of his place among geniuses- would be all but speaking in poems to the bemused teenager.

Damian's crush on Ellie did melt Bruce's heart a little. It was his baby's first after all, but he wasn't sure if Damian's approach was doing anything. Put him on the battlefield and Damian could lead to victory. Put him next to a pretty young girl and all his son was capable of doing was stare and babble.

The only one that didn't seem to have a crush on Team Phantom was Tim. Which should have given him reassurance except for the small little detail.

"Red Robin" Danny sings upon Tim's arrival at the cave. Officially tonight they are all going over the results of the latest tests on the universe's structure. Unofficially Team Phantom had been invited over for dinner by Alfred and they were looking over the Batcave as their butler finished preparing the main course.

At once every member of Team Phantom raises their head, turning away from his love-struck children to his flustered son and singing "Yum" with wide smiles.

Tim's face goes bright red.

Apparently, Tim was their universe version of Adonis and Team Phantom had no issue with expressing how yummy they found Tim. Now Bruce isn't saying that he would be against Tim having more than one romantic partner- he has made sure to look up proper healthy poly relationships and given Tim a PowerPoint version of it.

It's just that he isn't sure how he's going to handle supporting one of his children while breaking the heart of another. Tim seems unsure how to handle so much romantic attention- he's had plenty of relationships before- but said attention is picking him before any of his siblings is a first.

Bruce knows that deep down Tim still struggles with thinking he's not as good as the others. That he really is just a placeholder in the long run.

Then there is the fact he isn't sure how their culture works. Is the singing like a mating call? Was there a chance they would earn the irk of Clockwork himself if Tim accidentally accepted their advances? Why was it always Red Robin and not just Tim himself that made Team Phantom go yummmm?

"Hi guys" Tim greets at least and Danny grins wider.

"Reeeeed Robbbbbin" " The ghost boy says throwing an arm over Tim's shoulders. Sam and Tucker surround them, making their voices sound strange as all three start singing, rocking Tim back and forth in a strange little dance.

"Yummmmm!"

From the corner of his eyes, Bruce makes out Dick's protective Older Brother's face, as his eldest starts marching towards the group with the intent of breaking them apart. He's been very vocal about putting an end to Team Phantom's flirtations if he saw so much as a hint of Tim's unease.

Except that Tim looked utterly bliss being pressed up against Danny. Maybe he should rethink Tim's disinterest in Team Phantom. The rest of his children looked murderous as more members of Team Phantom gathered around Tim also singing.

Bruce had to deal with this for three whole years. He can physically feel his hair turning greyer.

[theabigailthorn]

my TV series pitch just got rejected by a production company who said it's too funny and not commercial enough, which, frankly, BEST FEEDBACK EVER??!!!

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[astarte-salon]

Prompt: the artwork features a scene of herbs, in the style of cyanotype, blue and beige, élisabeth vigée le brun, louise bourgeois, flower and nature motifs, affandi, whistlerian --ar 3:4 --style raw --v 6

[absurdthirst]

Cracking the Case {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Flirting, mentions of crime scene photos, misuse of handcuffs, bondage, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Staying late with your boss, Detective Tim Rockford, turns into some sexy times at his desk, making him crack the case while he's buried inside you.

A/N: Did we write a fic about a damn Merge Mansion commercial? Yes we did. Do we have any regrets? Not a damn one! 🤡🤡🤡 Based off how sexy that damn stupid game commercial is and this NSFW GIF.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He’s been at his desk all day, gun holster still on his shoulders and you bite your lip, eying the cups lined up on his desk. “Tim.” You say and he barely tears his eyes away from the photos he’s been studying on his desk. “Tim.” You repeat, knowing he will be there all night if left to his own devices. 

“Yes?” He asks, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the photo of the fatal wound to look into your concerned eyes. 

“You need to eat.” You huff, knowing you could use something too but your boss has spent three days studying the evidence, sleeping in the office and maybe managing to drag himself back to his apartment for a quick shower. “I’ll get you something.” You stand up, making your way out of the police department to head down to the 24 hour diner you frequent when his case keeps you both tethered to work.

Tossing his pen down, Tim rocks back in his chair and sighs, closing his eyes as he presses the pads of his fingers to them. Staring at the crime scene photos for so long that he feels like they are blurring together. He’s missing something, he can feel it. It’s right in front of him but he just seem can’t find it. It’s times like these that he longs for the days where a bottle of bourbon is in the bottom cabinet of his desk drawer and a pack of Marlboro Reds sit right next to his hand. He’s given that up, trying to be the ‘new image’ of the police force but it’s damn hard when you’re trying to solve a case like this. The chair creaks as he rocks back, finally aware of the growling in his stomach that you’ve insisted on taking care of for him. He’d be lost without you.

You return with the food, a burger and fries for Tim, knowing he will be annoyed if you get him something healthier and you just want him to eat something and not just chain smoke until the light bulb goes off. He’s got his face in his hands and you set the take out bag down. “Betty says hello.” You tease, knowing he is aware of the older waitress having a crush on the ‘hunky police detective’. “She even threw in a slice of apple pie for you.”

Tim snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the bag. “Someday soon I’m gonna have to go back in there and flirt with her a bit.” He tells you, knowing that the woman is probably ten years too old for him, but he shoots you a grin. “Keep the pie slices rollin’.” The mouthwatering scent of the hot burger makes him groan as he opens the styrofoam contain and he looks at you. “You not get anything for yourself? Or you plannin’ on going home?” He wouldn’t blame you if you did leave, it’s far past the hours that you were expected to answer the phones, the Desk Sergeant already taking over for the night. You aren’t a police officer, but as the department’s secretary, you were a damn vital part of keeping this place running.

He takes a bite of the burger and you hold up your own bag, “figured I’d get something to eat before I head home. Keep you company before you retreat into your mind again.” You tease and sit down on the other side of his desk, gathering up the photos and keeping them in order so he can concentrate on his food. “I know you want to solve this case but punishing yourself by not eating and sleeping won’t get you any closer to solving this.” You warn him, having watched him and the others try to be superhuman and it always leads to mistakes. “You should go home, eat, shower, get laid. Will help you take your mind off of the case and you’ll come in with a fresh perspective.”

Tim scoffs as he picks up a fry and bites into it. “Gotta go out to get laid unless I call up some of the working girls.” He jokes. “And the captain would have my ass if I got busted by vice like Johnson did a few months ago.” Tim was a bachelor, probably always would be one after his fiancée jilted him a few months before the wedding years ago. Claiming that he worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her. It was probably true, so he hadn’t really tried after that, figuring it just wasn’t in the cards for him.

“You could easily go out and get laid. You’re a handsome guy. Smart, funny. Just flash the handcuffs and say you know how to use them.” You home and bite into your own sandwich, watching him chew with satisfaction that he’s eating. “Too bad you’re always in this damn office. You’d be popular at the bar down the street from me. Lot of girls like a cop with handcuffs.”

His brow arches up at your comment, wondering briefly if you were one of those girls before he tries to push the thought away. You are off limits. Plenty of detectives had tried it with you only to be shot down and he enjoys the rapport you have, not willing to risk it. “Lots of girls, huh?” He asks, taking another bite of his burger. “Too bad I’m chained to my desk.”

You chuckle, “some women would like that.” You joke and continue eating. The silence is comforting, both of you enjoying a hard earned meal after a long day of trying to solve this case. You watch him as he eats, mustache getting a little wild after concentrating on this case and his hair all over the place yet he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes meet yours and you smile, setting your sandwich down. “You know…I’m one of those girls…who like a man with handcuffs.”

Tim’s brow shoots up and for a moment he’s speechless. Clearing his throat for a moment and nearly choking on his own spit. “I- you are?” His cock twitches in his pants as he imagines putting his cuffs on you. Bending you over and pressing you up against this desk as you moan softly.

You bite your lip, enjoying the clueless look on his face like you haven’t been subtly flirting with him for God knows how long. The lines on his forehead become more pronounced and you decide to take the risk. You can’t keep imagining him between your thighs every night while you rub your clit. This is either going to be the best or worst decision of your life. You push your sandwich aside and stand up, walking around the desk until you’re beside him, and you look into those dark eyes, wide with shock, while you slowly pull your skirt up and over your hips to expose your panties. “Yes. I am.” You say softly, voice taking on a seductive lilt.

“Shit.” The way his eyes shift between your exposed panties and your face would be comical if he wasn’t trying to make sure you aren’t teasing him. His mouth runs dry and Tim quickly stands, abandoning his meal to press close to you. “Are you- fuck, are you sure?” He demands, needing to hear you say the words.

You chuckle nervously, reaching up tentatively to wrap your arms around his neck so you can press closer to him. “Yes baby. I am sure. I want you to fuck me. Always have. Since the day I started working here.” You confess, keeping your eyes on his.

Tim hisses, unable to believe this is happening and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Blindly striking out behind you at his desk to clear a space for you to sit while he frantically slides his tongue into your mouth. Needy and desperate for you, it’s been so long since he’s touched a woman and he’s often thought of you with his hand around his cock in the shower.

You moan into his mouth, pulling him even closer as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. You can feel the pent up need inside of him, similar to your own, and you whimper into his mouth while his tongue slides against yours. “Fuck Tim.” You pant, tilting your head when he kisses down your neck and presses you up against his desk so you can feel his hardening cock.

“Yeah?” He groans against your flesh and sucks at your pulse. His hands sliding down your thighs, squeezing them and then he presses two fingers against your clothed clit. “You want me to use my cuffs on you?” He asks as he rubs the damp fabric. “Or just turn you around and fuck you?”

“Oh God. Cuffs. Please use the cuffs.” You beg, having imagined it too many times. “Please baby. I- I just need you to touch me.” You reach down to squeeze him through his dress pants, wanting to make him moan.

His hands reluctantly pull away, fumbling behind his back to pull his cuffs out of the small pouch he has on his belt. Grabbing your wrist to slap the cold steel around it as he pushes your arm behind your back. “Jesus Christ baby, you drive me insane.” He groans, eager to give you what you want.

You gasp at the cold metal encircling your wrists and you love the way he bends you over his desk once you are cuffed up. “Tim.” You whine when he grinds against you, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” You beg, aching for him after so long of wondering what it would be like.

Chuckling, Tim kisses you again, “I’m going to baby, I promise.” His fingers find the edge of your panties and he starts to strip them down your thighs. Dropping them at your feet on top of your heels. “Step out of them and turn around. Spread your legs.” He orders roughly.

You struggle but manage to kick the panties off of your shoes, letting them land wherever, and you spin around, spreading your legs for the handsome detective. “Fuck me. Please.” You aren’t above begging, wanting your dreams to come true.

There’s so much he would do to you if he wasn’t in his office. Surrounded by the case details and photos, sure that someone could walk in. That makes it even thrilling, even though the lights are off outside and most everyone else has gone home. He reaches out and slaps your ass as he unbuckles his belt with one hand. “Fuck, your gagging for it, aren’t you? Bet you're soaking wet, eager for my cock.”

God, hearing him speak like that, husky and deep, has you dripping. “Ye-yes Detective. I- I want your cock. Please. I need you.” You pant, not above begging at this point. You feel his cock push against your ass cheek and you gasp, unable to believe how big he feels. “Fuck, Tim.” You whine, grinding back against him, fingers flexing behind your back.

He decides that he’s not going to spit in his hand, wanting it to sting a bit as he stretches you out. Needing a good fuck to smooth his rough edges and maybe help him focus on the case. Taking his cock in hand, he nudges along your slit, feeling how wet you are. “Dirty fucking girl, you’re soaked.” He groans. “Let’s see how well you take my cock.” He nestles the head against your entrance and snaps his hips forward, pinning you to the desk as he drives his cock deep.

You collapse forward, head coming down to rest near the take out bag and your mouth falls open into a moan as he pushes deep inside of you. He’s thick, stretching you out, and your nails dig into your palms, unable to believe how good he feels already. “Oh fuck.” You choke, eyes squeezed shut as his hands grip your hips.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, it’s like a switch has been flipped. Clenching his jaw, Tim draws his hips back to start a frantic, devastating pace. Nearly immediately breathless from how hard he is pounding into you, groaning and grunting as he feels your soaked walls clench around him.

“Shit! Shit!” You cry out, breath knocked out of you from his harsh pace, making you moan his name, and you can’t do anything but let him fuck you, use your body for his own pleasure. “Baby. Oh fuck, Tim. Yes. Yes!” You moan.

“Quiet.” He hisses, not slowing down. “Can-can’t let everyone hear how- how much of a dirty girl you are.” He groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the squelch of your cunt as he drills into you. Slippery and hot, perfect for him. “Fuck, baby. It’s- it’s like heaven.” He groans, opening his eyes and his gaze falls on the strewn photos on his desk.

You don’t know he’s eying the photos on his desk as he pounds into you. You love how his hands come to grip your handcuffed wrists, using you as leverage to push harder and deeper. “So good.” You whimper, “so fucking good, sir.” You are used to addressing him as sir or detective and that slips into your dirty little fantasies.

“Shit.” Tim’s eyes widen and his pace stutters for a moment and the pieces click together. “That’s it.” He groans, gripping your hips tighter and pushing into you faster as he realizes he’s just solved the case. “Fuck that’s it!”

You don’t realize he’s just solved the case, you think he’s close to cumming and you’re a little disappointed that you aren’t going to cum but it’s still been nice to have him inside of you. “I’m on birth control. You can cum inside of me.” You sigh, closing your eyes and waiting for the warmth of his seed to fill you up.

Tim growls, flattening himself against your back and slides his hand around your hip to find your clit. “Fucking hell,” he moans into your ear. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you up. So fucking perfect.” He pants. “Helped me solve the case, fucking solved it buried in your cunt.” He presses two fingers to your clit and rubs frantically, wanting you to cum on his cock.

Your eyes open in shock and you grin, glad he’s solved the case. “Gl-glad I could help.” You chuckle breathlessly before you moan when his fingers rub your clit. Hard and fast as he pushes deep inside of you. “Oh fuck.” You pant, loving the way he kisses along your neck. “Shit. Tim. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You whine, walls fluttering around his cock and he pushes towards your orgasm. You cry out a few thrusts later, clamping down on his length and soaking him as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

He feels it. The hot, wet gush of your cunt right before you tighten so much that he moans. The grip on his cock almost makes him unable to move as he grinds deep. He’s right behind you, poised on the edge and burying his cock deep, moaning your name as he fills you with hot spurts of his seed. Painting your walls as he chants your name breathlessly.

You pant, relaxing on his desk as your body buzzes with the aftermath of your orgasm. You feel giddy and you smile against the surface of his desk as he leans over you, catching his breath. “I was not expecting that to happen today.” You chuckle, knees wobbly and you’re grateful you’re on his desk.

Tim huffs in agreement, pulling out of you gently so he can watch your cunt flutter and try to push out his cum. “Didn’t expect to solve the case while fucking you.” He jokes, caressing your hip before he grabs the photos that had caught his eye.

“Glad I could help. You wanna finish your dinner and then you can call it in?” You suggest, looking over your shoulder at him. He nods and you watch him eye the photo that has helped him solve the case. “Could you uncuff me first, babe?” You joke, wiggling your fingers.

“Right. Shit.” Tim hisses, immediately dropping the photos and pulling up his pants that have dropped to mid thigh so he can pull his keys out. “Sorry.” He huffs, quickly unlocking the cuffs and taking them off of you, gently massaging your wrists for a second before he lets go of you and steps to the side.

You groan softly as you stand up straight, grabbing the napkins from the diner to clean yourself up before his cum drips onto the floor. Once you’re cleaned up as much as possible, you shove the napkins into the empty take out bag and find your panties to put them on, adjusting your skirt. “Glad you solved the case.” You kiss his cheek and shift to step away from his desk.

Tim stares at the pictures in amazement, unable to believe that he had missed this. It’s so obvious now. He shoves a hand through his hair and mumbles, “thanks,” as he thinks about the way to present this to the DA. You shuffle off to the side and it jars him out of his thinking. “Hey-“ he clears his throat. “You wanna get a drink?” He asks, suddenly awkward even if he had just railed you over his desk. “I mean, like a date?”

You offer him a soft smile, stepping closer so you can kiss his cheek. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You say and step back. “Go solve the case and be the best detective on the force and then we can go get that drink.” You promise, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

Tim smiles at you, nodding quickly. “Give me ten minutes and then we’ll talk about what we can do in the interrogation room over a drink.” He winks and quickly buttons up his pants so he can grab the phone to call the DA and get an arrest warrant issued. He managed to solve the case after all, all thanks to you. Maybe he needed to fuck you during every case from now on, just to make sure justice is served.

[ot3]

saw the barbie movie with my family today here's my review

[sleepynegress]

 It 100% is...

[scarletslippers]

Me: Writes the same trope for the 56,374th time

Also me:

[bloodybloody]

Use your tiny whumpee as a squishy stress toy!!!

 

Caution: Please don't squeeze too hard; you may crush their bones, smash their internal organs up, and pop their eyes out. 

[philhoffman]

Philip Seymour Hoffman as Dean Trumbell, the Mattress Man, in PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE (2002), dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

[dadvans]

hobbies.

whenever i'm facing writer's block, i re-open the fic that is the easiest for me to write without thinking, which is my would-be-about-as-historically-accurate-as-it-could-get-if-it-weren't-omegaverse oregon trail PWP AU (normal), and instead of posting anything, i just keep adding more pretending there isn't a john mulaney-coded voice in my head saying "...could be a series"

[calkale]

anyone but you is SUCH a perfect slimav au btw. they hate each other, both get invited to ices wedding but start causing problems so everyone tries to set them up and theyre like you know what, we're gonna trick them AND THEN THEY FALL IN LOVE

[astarte-salon]

Prompt: night in Paris, rooftops ,glasgow style, 2d game art, editorial illustrations, accurate and detailed by Raina Telgemeier --chaos 26 --ar 10:17 --stylize 200 --v 6

[fadobeijaeu]

That's Lieutenant Soul. Callsign 'Oxford'. First picked up the name after showing up to base his first day wearing a ridiculous pair of knocked-up oxfords wrapped up in rags. 

Beelined to the T-38 track after scoring in the top percentile of the AFOQT despite having no formal STEM background. Credits his early interest in engineering to his late father. Excellent physicals, too, apparently because he grew up doing parkour. He did have a spot of troublesome behavior in the beginning but he had a way with other pilots that was hard to ignore and quickly became a natural leader.

Kid went through a lot to get to where he is today. But I'll never forget the look on his face when he first laid eyes on a F55 in action and I couldn't be more proud of him.

[o-wyrmlight]

“I take it that you’re Plaisance?” Harry asked, pulling out his slightly-damp ledger from the safety of his coat. Kim didn’t know how he failed to notice before, but a piece of toilet paper was clinging to the back of the ledger for dear life. His fingers itched to pull it off. “Plaisance Pontier, Annette’s mother?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Her voice took on a quivering quality, looking between Kim and Harry from behind her cat eyed glasses uncertainly. “Did something happen? I don’t want any trouble, officers. I’m just a simple businesswoman running a bookshop! I don’t want any bad publicity going on around here…”

“No, no trouble at all,” Harry reassured with a slight laugh, hunching his shoulders with a grimacing grin. “It’s just—well. Let us introduce ourselves. I’m Para-Natural Detective Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau from the Para-Normal Investigations Bureau. This is my partner.” He gave Kim a nod and a smile. “Para-Natural Officer Jimothy Kimothy.”

What the fuck was happening?

Plaisance gave pause, squinting between them suspiciously, fingers fiddling with the medallion hanging from around her neck. “The… Para-Normal Investigations Bureau? I’ve never… heard of such a division in the RCM before.”

“It’s not a part of the RCM, ma’am—the Para-Normal Investigations Bureau is a separate entity that works the underground of Revachol to resolve para-natural disturbances that threaten Revachol’s livelihood. If Revachol is the body we all live within, then we are her antibodies.”

Having some fun writing the Doomed Commercial Area for my fanfic, A Toast To The Pigs--a Martinaise retelling where Harry wakes up in #1 Whirling-in-Rags with his memory in-tact and still has to work with Kim to solve the case. Check it out if that's of interest to you! Typical Disco Elysium themes and warnings are to be expected.