#different than RP writing but still a lot of writing

[eterniityblooms]

updated my rules to include shipping info + a bit more about my monster muses specifically, since shipping with at LEAST one muse on this account is probably inevitable at some point

[survivoirs]

@thorrncrowned​ sent: 🔙  // push  receiver’s  muse  against  a  wall .( TASM!Spidey @ Goblin ) 

This was an entirely new universe to conquer, whether or not Norman was too fucking weak and pathetic to grab for it was irrelevant to Goblin. And the Peter of this universe had tried to fix them. Osborn, that traitor, had even been trying to help Peter get rid of them. And so, poor Norman was shoved deep into the recesses of their mind once again. 

A familiar suited figure bounding over the buildings caught its eye as it flew over the New York streets. What a treat. This one was taller than the one it had seen on the bridge. With any luck, he was the one that belonged to their universe. Perhaps a Spidey corpse would wake Osborn up to the possibilities here? If not, Spider-Man’s death was still overdo. 

The cool air felt crisp against its face as the Goblin shifted its weight to twist the glider around in a sharp motion, dipping quickly as it picked up speed at a rapid rate. It just had to time it just right...

The glider collided into Spider-Man’s back just before he could launch another web to the next building. The Goblin let out a maniacal laugh as the hero was knocked right through a window of some office building. Glass showered the dim streets below while the glider drew to a hover right outside the newly made entrance. Stepping forward, boots crunched over glass on the carpeted floor.

“Did I interrupt your late night stroll, Peter?” Goblin cooed sinisterly into the partial darkness. Enhanced sight could easily make out the shape of the rows of cubicles and the occasional flickering lights on some of the monitors. Ears stayed fixed for any sound of the hero moving about the large room as the Goblin began walking slowly down one of the aisles. It glanced up at the ceiling due to a past learning experience before stopping. 

“The Itsy Bitsy Spider...” It sang darkly before suddenly spinning and swinging a gloved fist straight through one of the cubicle laminate walls. Knuckles just barely brushed against organic softness before the Goblin was met with a hard kick to the center of his chest plates as Spider-Man used the corner of the cubicle wall to swing his body around from where he’d been hiding. Goblin stumbled backwards, hand shooting out to steady itself against the actual wall of the building

Goblin felt something wrap around that hand and its head turned to see webbing holding it there. It chuckled briefly before flashing a look in surprise at the speed with which Spider-Man came at him fully this time. Something was different. It took the brute force of being shoved back fully into the wall with a wide grin, looking up. More webbing followed in rapid bursts and Goblin didn’t even bother to try to avoid them. It also wouldn’t hold them but this Parker didn’t yet understand the amount of strength this body was capable of. Up close it was clear this wasn’t their Spider-Man but it didn’t look disappointed. 

"My, my, my. Another Spider-Man? Is that still you under there, Peter? I bet you’ll bleed the same as mine.”

[comfycozycrossfox]

just saw a tiktok where someone mentions “i’d NEVER written fanfiction before this,” and had to realize with horror that that’s not like a 100% universal thing that everyone does . ALLLLLLLL through my childhood i was on Fandom and Fanfiction Internet i fucking forgot that some people did NOT have a Fanfiction Writing Phase or multiple . that’s not a phase that everyone has

[crownmemes]

Advice; Everyone Should Be Making the First Move

There's been a trend within the rpc here for years now where nobody is willing to make the first move. The problem with this is that if nobody ever makes the first move, then nobody is ever going to write anything. Considering that, everybody should be making an effort to be the first one to reach out to their writing partners more often.

Examples of making the first move:

Sending an IM to say hi, then suggesting a plot

Sending a meme to start a new thread

Responding to starter calls and open starters

All of this is just as valid for old partners as it is for new. If you haven't written with someone in a while, maybe it's time to reach out to start a new thread?

The most common reason I see for people not making the first move is social anxiety. I'm going to give you all a bit of tough love here: speaking as somebody who once had crippling social anxiety (and still does in irl settings), the best way to overcome it is to push yourself to try the things that make you anxious.

Communicating with people is a really important part of rp because it's not a solo hobby, therefore you are going to have to talk to people at some point. It's unavoidable. Here are a few reminders to help you feel a little less nervous:

If somebody follows back, they're doing it because they're interested in writing with you. They are not going to be upset if you send them an IM with plot ideas

Most people are friendly! In 12 years of rping on this site, I can count on one hand the number of people who I've talked to that were actively rude to me

It's okay if someone says no to you! People have different styles and not all of them will work together. If someone says no, say thank you for the consideration, then move on. There are more people to write with out there

If somebody is nasty to you, you can block them. Don't be afraid to do this; you don't have to explain yourself, and you wouldn't want to write with someone who's rude to you anyway

If you're not sure what to say, I usually go with a version of "Hello! Thank you for following/following back! I've looked through your rules and about pages. Would you be interested in plotting something for X and my character, Y? I have an idea already, if you would like to hear?"

Don't just say "Hi!". Cut to the chase and tell them why you're messaging so they immediately know what the conversation is about

Reasons why it's good to message first:

You look actively interested in writing. This is a huge boost in your favour when it comes to asking to write with someone

It makes it a lot easier to get new interactions

It makes you appear more active

If you're a new blog, you won't have a lot of examples of your writing on your blog yet. People will be more willing to give you a chance if you approach them first

If you don't message first, you are likely to be waiting a long time before somebody messages you

It's easier to make friends if you have an active conversation!

Some other thoughts on messaging first:

You have followed the person because you are interested in writing with them. Think about why you are interested, and suggest this as a plot idea

Make sure you read through the rules still. It's very obvious when you haven't. Also, look through the muses on offer so you can suggest which you'd like to write with

If the rules say they're not mutuals only, or that you're welcome to IM to introduce yourself if you want to plot, don't be afraid to message. They wouldn't have put that in their rules if they didn't mean it

If someone is reblogging memes, it's because they want to write responses to them. Send them in! If they didn't want them sent in, they wouldn't have reblogged the meme

IMing to plot is often a better idea than liking a starter call or sending memes if you have never interacted with the person before. It gives you a chance to work out what kind of thread would work well before you start something, so the resulting thread has a lower chance of fizzling out quickly

However, all that being said, it's not just up to the person messaging first to make all the effort. If the receiver doesn't put any effort in in return, then the person making the first move is going to think they aren't interested. Eventually, they may give up messaging people at all, because what's the point if it never goes anywhere? Some tips for not seeming uninterested:

If someone IMs you, try to reply to them in a timely fashion. Especially try to reply to them if they sent you a plot idea. You don't have to agree to do the idea - it's just very annoying to be ghosted the second you actually start plotting

Suggest your own plot ideas in return, or build on the idea that the other person has given you

If you agree to write a starter, or one is written for you, follow through with it. Write the starter, reply to the thread. If it's going to take a while, let your writing partner know that you've seen it but you're going to be slow for a while

Similarly, if you post memes, reply to the ones people send you. If you never reply, people will pick up on this and eventually stop sending you things

If you go on hiatus, message your writing partners directly when you get back to let them know you'd like to write again. This will demonstrate that you really are active and ready to write again

[fioiswriting]

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Rating : will be explicit 18+ later, MDNI Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader later TW : mention of blood, mention of murder. TW will be added as the story progresses. Words count : 4361 AN : Hello everyone! I'm back from the deads hehe. Sorry, I've been busy with a lot of things lately, I've had a couple of exams and I'm also in the process of writing my (second) master's thesis. Sooo anyway, I've written the first chapter of my new fanfic. Yes, it is YET ANOTHER story that involves niece!reader x Aemond and it is adapted from an RP with my girlfriend. If you're tired of this trope, if you're uncomfortable with this dynamic, I suggest you find another fanfic (there are plenty of masterpieces on tumblr anyway!! 💕). It's been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found the time to finish this first chapter. I don't know yet how many chapters there will be or how often I'll post, but I hope you like it! 💕 As always, be nice, I know there are probably some inconsistencies, but we're here to have fun, right? (BTW, I've been bingewatching Vikings and I know the fandom is kinda dead, but I want to write some x readers now)

Also, English is not my first (nor second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes!!

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 1 : Silk Street

War of heart - Ruelle 🎶

The streets of King's Landing had the peculiar quality of being both enticing and repelling; like a unique, curious spectacle that you discovered with every hesitant step you took. The smell of fresh fish mingled with that of fire and sewers, tickling your nose with unfamiliar smells. It was new to you, these smells, these sounds too; the hammering of the blacksmith's tools on the metal, the shouts of the merchants, the rolling of the cartwheels on the cobblestones of the winding streets. It was different from what you were used to; the steady rocking of the waves, the calm of the rain, the ups and downs of the tides. The only turbulence in your daily life were the storms you were so fond of, and the thunder, the lightning, the wind that shook the stones and lifted the waves had an untameable yet terribly soothing aspect. 

Unlike King's Landing. 

If it wasn't the natural elements that threatened to unleash their wrath here in King's Landing, it was the unpredictability of the people in the streets, the danger lurking around every corner, the risk of disappearing forever into the shadows of a forgotten alley.

Apart from the hustle and bustle of the forbidden streets you were discovering for the first time after so many years - and the adrenaline rush of breaking the restriction on venturing there - King's Landing was, objectively speaking, a deadly bore. 

But it was still less boring than going round in circles in the castle. 

You knew it was the dream of every lady in the Seven Kingdoms to live within the walls of the Red Keep, for it had been yours for a long time. Back when you lived in your childhood bedroom - the one on the second floor - you had no trouble imagining yourself spending your life in the gardens of the Red Keep, with your husband, enjoying the strawberry cakes and the books in the great library.

After all, you and Aemond were inseparable. 

But in the meantime, fate had decided otherwise, and the mild climate of King's Landing, where you were born, where you celebrated your first words and your first steps, had been replaced by the vagaries of Dragonstone's weather. It was the sea, the storm and the rain that raised you, and it was with your feet in the water, on the shingle, that you grew up. 

Living in King's Landing now was different from anything you'd ever imagined before. 

King's Landing tasted bland. Boring.  

Your mother had promised that the stay would be temporary, a few weeks at most, just to settle some business with Alicent and Viserys - your grandfather. The aim was to find a way to keep the peace between your families, but you weren't an idiot. You knew that the rift between your families was growing wider and wider.

And that one of the only ways to prevent a total, irreparable rupture was a promise of marriage. 

Then again, wasn't it your duty to be sold into marriage, to strengthen the bonds, to carry the family's shaky balance on your shoulders?

You already missed Dragonstone. You missed the sea. You missed walking on cold water.

King's Landing was like a golden prison you couldn't leave because everything around it was too dangerous.

And you were bored. You had been reading. You had been embroidering. You had wandered far and wide through the gardens. You'd listened kindly and attentively to Helaena talk about her insects, and you'd spent several afternoons sharing court gossip with Baela and Rhaena.

You spent much of your time avoiding your uncle. Or watching him from afar.

For he had changed terribly; for better or worse, you weren't sure. You only kept the memories of your shared childhood, somewhere in your heart, like a buried secret, like a triple-locked treasure you'd sworn never to open again. 

The memories were painful. They created a lump in your throat, they kept you awake at night, they made your tears flow.  

And that was why you locked them away and threw away the key that kept them locked. 

You decided you weren't that child anymore - you stopped being that child when you went your separate ways, when you went back to Dragonstone and he stayed here. Now he wasn't the little boy you left either: he had become this cold, tall, ruthless young man. He had that cunning little smile, that air of self-assurance he wore with his head held high and his chin up.

Boredom drove you to follow Aegon into the city. He suggested it and suddenly all sense of reason left your body. Weren't you the most reasonable of your siblings, the most prudent, the most intelligent? An inexplicable feeling had urged you to accept, like two hands behind your back pushing you towards him, like a voice in your head encouraging you to abandon your model daughter's appearance: the call of transgression. Curiosity. The desire to be bold. The danger. For once you were making a decision, your own decision, without your parents or brothers knowing. You were the master of your actions, and in a way, it was an act of rebellion that gave you a feeling of freedom, that awakened a sense of excitement in you.

Ser Erryk protested, of course, when he realised your little ploy, but you had already vanished before he could stop you. You laughed as you followed Aegon, his mischievous smile at the corner of his lips as he led you through the secret passage that allowed you to sneak out of the castle, your hand in the crook of his elbow so as not to lose you. 

And everything went well. You enjoyed your newfound freedom with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your body pressed against your uncle's, the hood pulled down over your forehead. You had the advantage of dark hair - the opposite of the Targaryens' emblematic features. It attracted less attention, you knew it. But your curious gaze, your round eyes that discovered the ordinary life of the lowborn must have intrigued the most observant ones, for Aegon nudged you in the ribs when he caught you looking a little too intently at the work of a craftsman. 

"You make a poor peasant," he whispered in your ear. "Well... You're obviously too pretty to be a peasant, that's for sure. But try to be more discreet." He paused. "Those men are looking at you like hungry dogs" he lowered his voice. You rolled your eyes and patted him on the shoulder. 

To tell the truth, you weren't comfortable with all those men giving you lecherous looks, but Aegon's presence was reassuring. 

He showed you the shortcuts he knew, the secrets, the curiosities of the city, and he talked to you. You wondered if he, too, had changed. You wondered if he'd gone from that stupid, mocking, annoying child to a secretly vulnerable, secretly lonely young adult. You knew about his bad habits; alcohol and sex, but this secret escapade showed you a side of him you didn't know. When had he become nice?

"Wait for me," he said as you looked around. The streets had changed, they had become busier, and suddenly you realised that you were frightened. "I'll be quick. Don't move and keep this on your head." 

You wanted to protest, to hold him back, but your uncle had already slipped away.

You were all alone in the Silk of Street.

Your heartbeat quickened. You weren't sure you'd find your way back, and Aegon had ordered you to stay there, not to move, not to talk to anyone. Fuck.

Fuck.

Had he done it on purpose? Was it a plan he'd been hatching all along, a bad joke he'd decided to play on his niece, on Rhaenyra's only daughter? Was he still the mean boy who bullied his little brother? Or did he actually have a real reason for leaving you there, all alone, in the street where brothels piled up and nobles went to satisfy their needs? 

You were angry at yourself for trusting him. You blamed yourself for being so naive. You couldn't believe he'd really set a trap for you, not after the complicity you'd shared just before. 

Or maybe he was just being Aegon; irresponsible and immature, oblivious to danger, and so stupid as to think that waiting for him here was a good idea.

You sighed. Tears tickled the corners of your eyes with fear, but you tried to chase them away, to swallow them down, to calm your racing heart. The last thing you needed was to draw attention to yourself.

But there were these men all around you, looking at you as if they were ready to pounce. Was this how you would end up, abducted, and sold into a cheap brothel? Murdered after serving the needs of a few old men? You shuddered at the thought. 

The voices around you mingled with the tumult, blurred images drawing unidentified shapes before your eyes, and you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself, rubbing your sweaty palms against the fabric of your cloak. 

"So? What do you say, girl?" 

A hand on your waist.

You weren't sure you understood what the man in front of you was saying. The words were bouncing around in your head without you being able to make them out, but his hungry smile was enough to reveal their nature. You froze. He was joined by another man, and you took a step back, then a second. It was as if your body refused to obey you, as if your brain stopped working, and you hated yourself for it. 

You hated yourself for being so weak. 

You had a dragon. You were a Targaryen. So why were you trembling? Why couldn't you gather your courage and run, gather your courage and plunge your dagger into someone's chest, fight and scream?

One of them, the older-looking one, closed his hand around your wrist. 

"Let me go!" You screamed, but the words caught in your throat, escaping your lips like a distorted cry. "Go away!" 

Simple commands that couldn't get through the space between your lips with the authority you wanted. 

You closed your eyes, trying to resist.

Fuck. You were going to die. You were going to be raped and then you were going to die, or be sold into sex work, or -

Something splashed in your face and suddenly you felt free. 

"Didn't you hear her? She said let me go," a hoarse voice growled. 

Your blood ran cold. 

You knew exactly who it was.

That calm but sharp tone belonged to only one person: Aemond Targaryen.

How had he found you? Why had he found you? You opened your eyes instantly, your cheeks still red with shame. You knew you'd been irresponsible, and that wasn't in your nature at all, quite the opposite. But the fact that Aemond had caught you in such a weak position bothered and annoyed you. 

It was supposed to be your secret, your act of rebellious transgression, your forbidden escapade with Aegon. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be Aemond rescuing you.

You opened your eyes. Facing you, the older man was kneeling on the pavement. He was clutching at his right side, blood trickling through his fingers to the ground. He was suffocating, blood pouring from his lips, but Aemond wiped the blade of his sword with a satisfied smile. 

The crowd had gathered to watch what was happening, a mixture of fear and curiosity on their faces, but Aemond was already hastening to chase them away in a tone that left no room for discussion:

"There's nothing to see," he thundered. "Go away. All of you. Or I'll serve you as food for Vhagar."

The crowd dispersed, frightened; women grabbing their children by the shoulders to force them to move, barefoot beggars hurrying to gather their bowl and few coins to find another place, prostitutes closing the curtains with an irritated sigh, old men almost stumbling, and soon the street was deserted.

Despite the hood that covered his face, you could see the flat line of his grin and the cold, accusing look with which he stared at you. He was furious. 

Perhaps he expected you to thank him, for Aemond approached you without a word. You looked up at him, your cheeks still red with shame. You were too proud to thank him. 

And you were still too angry, too.

Angry at his silence all these years, angry that he'd let you down when you'd stood up for him, angry at the man he'd become. 

"Are you coming or not?" he asked in his icy voice, his hand already closing around your wrist to force you forward, but you didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, frowning. You'd suddenly regained your repartee. 

You knew you had to calm things down, thank him and follow him in silence. Accept the humiliation and beg for his silence. You knew you were making things more difficult than they already were, but that was Aemond. And once again, in front of Aemond, you had a pride to uphold.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, his voice sharp. He froze, his dark eyes glaring at you as if you'd just insulted him. Suddenly you felt so small in front of him. "I should be asking you that question," he added dryly, obviously trying to keep the tone of his voice under control. "You're even more stupid than I thought."

The sentence had the effect of a slap in the face, and you felt your cheeks burning. Like a little girl caught red-handed, you lowered your head. What had been going through your mind? Why had you decided to follow Aegon in the first place?

Aemond lifted you with ease and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, as if he wanted to be sure you would follow him, as if he feared you would escape again, as if he didn't trust you. 

And in the end, perhaps he was right.

As he carried you to the Red Keep, your fists pounded on his back. Small blows that he ignored, painless on the width that was his back. 

He seemed to ignore you, perhaps more annoyed that you wouldn't stay still than anything else. But you didn't need him to play the perfect knight, not when he'd been ignoring you all this time. Not when he'd barely spoken to you on your return to King's Landing. Not when he drew a line under your childhood as if nothing had happened. 

Not when he kept harassing your brothers. 

It irritated you. He played the role of the ideal husband-to-be, impassive and calm; as if he'd always been the knight in shining armour he never was.

"You could at least let me go," you sighed, seeing that nothing seemed to disturb your uncle's icy calm. "I know how to walk. "

He had a moment's hesitation where he stopped, and then you felt him readjust your position with a flick of his shoulder. You had no trouble imagining the corners of his lips curling upwards, painting his face with his usual insolent grin, you had no trouble imagining him chuckling at your condition.

"Stop it, you are only making it harder for us," he growled in an authoritative voice. "And if you are not happy, I can always leave you here."  He paused. "I did not know you dreamed of working in a brothel."

The comment was enough to send another wave of heat up your cheeks, colouring them red, but you tried as best you could to keep your composure, as if not to betray your embarrassment in front of the prince. 

You refused to show him that his remark had affected you.

You just gritted your teeth and sighed. 

The position was becoming uncomfortable: Aemond's bony shoulder was digging into your stomach and your legs were going numb, as if thousands of little ants were crawling all over them. 

You hoped no one would see you when you got back to the castle. Your excursion into the city was supposed to be discreet; you weren't supposed to come back with a blood-stained tunic, nor hanging over your one-eyed uncle's shoulders. 

If Aemond knew anything about the impending official announcement of your betrothal, he said nothing, walking ahead of him as if you were as light as a sack of grain.

"Qybor." You whispered again, this time using High Valyrian. Uncle. You hoped the nickname would make him react. "Qybor," you repeated a little louder. "I can walk by myself now."

If the nickname had any effect on him, Aemond didn't show it. But you had no trouble imagining the stupefaction you would have read on his face had you been face to face with him. You were proud of your skills in High Valyrian: you learned faster than Jace, faster than Luke, but then again, you'd always loved books and history, languages and learning. Aemond would probably remember that, it was what brought you together as a child in the first place.

You could see the tall towers of the Red Keep in front of you, their red bricks standing out against the blue sky. From a distance, you could understand the fascination of the people. There was something great, something sumptuous about the sight of this building, and you understood why it had taken three reigns to build it. 

 But despite your pleas, Aemond had not moved an eye. You knew that if your uncle hadn't intervened, you would probably have ended up in a dark alley, or in a filthy brothel, used as a plaything by a bunch of drunken lords, or in the dirty hands of ill-intentioned men. The thought made a lump grow in your throat that you found hard to swallow. 

You were definitely naive and stupid for agreeing to follow Aegon like that. 

Still, you hadn't bothered to thank Aemond.

You had too much pride to thank him, a flaw you'd inherited from your family. 

You were stubborn, never satisfied, and always had something to say. 

But Aemond, it seemed, had as much - if not more - pride than you. 

Your engagement promised to be surprising.

"I am serious, Aemond," you added. It felt strange to call him by his first name when you hadn't addressed him that way for years. "I am a..." strong woman, you wanted to reply, but you chose another word instead, not wanting to give him the occasion to mock you: "independent woman".

As you approached the entrance - you prayed Aemond would choose one of the secret passages, you couldn't bear the humiliation of being carried off like a piece of merchandise by your presumed future husband - he stopped and set you down. His single eye searched your face, as if looking for the slightest trace of gratitude, but he knew he wouldn't find any; he knew it would have been too easy, and he knew it wouldn't have been you. 

You weren't easy. 

Pulling your arm to make you walk faster, Aemond forced you to follow him, around the ramparts, glancing around to make sure no one was following you. He pulled a little harder. "Mandianna," he began, his husky voice vibrating, the tone sending a wave of heat through your lower belly.

There was something incredibly pleasing about hearing the intonations of High Valyrian roll off your uncle's tongue. 

But that was Aemond. And it was out of the question for you to feel anything for Aemond.

Around the bend in the ramparts, out of sight, he slammed you against the wall, both hands pressed firmly against your shoulders to prevent you from fleeing. "What exactly did you think would happen when you went to Silk Street, tell me?"

You knew what he was thinking. That you were irresponsible. That your actions were unworthy of someone of your station, and even more so if you were to be his future betrothed. That he wondered if your time on Dragonstone had made you reckless and wild, that he wondered if he might need to teach you some manners before he could marry you.

His judging gaze swept you from head to toe. As if to say that though your father's legitimacy was often questioned, Aemond knew that you were indeed Rhaenyra's daughter. 

You avoided his gaze, your eyes fixed on a point beside his face. You wanted to say something witty, but the young prince had robbed you of any chance of intelligent thought, and you hated this feeling.

"I didn't think you'd come looking for me, Qybor," you replied with a grin as you looked up at him. "I thought you were a busy man."

You felt his fingers tighten on your shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of your cloak and tunic underneath. Your behaviour was childish, like a petulant brat, but secretly you enjoyed seeing Aemond lose his temper. You liked to push him to his limits. You liked to see the subtle signs of his irritation; the moment when he clenched his jaw, when he straightened his neck, when his breathing quickened.

If you were to marry him, then you would be poison, ready to corrupt his soul.

He grabbed the collar of your linen tunic and pushed you a little harder against the wall. "I thought you were smarter than to follow my brother into the city." His body rigid against yours kept you pinned to the wall.

The expression on his face betrayed his inner conflict: part of him thinking that he shouldn't care about his niece's actions, about you. Part of him reminding that you were soon to be betrothed. 

And you knew that the thought of other men putting their hands on you, on his bride's body was lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach. 

Jealousy. 

Possessiveness.

Aemond was a man driven by duty. On this level, you were the same; the model son and model daughter of your respective families, charged with performing your duties to prevent the gulf that separated your families from widening. 

Both the eternal seconds of your families. 

Both the pride of your mothers. 

Suddenly he released you. His hand found your wrist again and he pulled you through the corridors of the castle. Had anyone caught you now, your hood pulled down over your forehead, your clothes hiding your appearance, they would probably have frowned and wondered if Aemond had suddenly decided to follow in his brother's footsteps, his taste for debauchery, by bringing a common girl or a cheap prostitute into his chamber.

For at that moment, you did not look like the daughter of royal blood that you were, not with your simple linen clothes, not with the thick cloak that covered your body, not with your hair tied up carelessly. You looked like a servant girl, a smallfolk girl, not like the Pearl of Dragonstone that you truly were.

Aemond's fingers burned around your wrist. You wondered if he felt it, too. If you were causing the same effect in him.

But he was impassive, always so difficult to read. He hid his feelings, buried them under a cold, mysterious shell, as if to protect himself. 

He stopped in front of the door that led to your bedroom. Fortunately, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the courage to face your parents' disappointed looks, you didn't have the courage to realise that you had betrayed their trust, even if, for a moment, you had forgotten your duty, you had forgotten the responsibilities that weighed on your shoulders, you had tasted a feeling of freedom, so new, so delicious. A foolish act of transgression. 

But you were safe and sound, and that was the most important thing.

"You'd better get changed," Aemond suggested. "It would be better if my mother didn't see you like this."

He clenched his jaw. He looked concentrated, as if he wanted to add something, as if he wanted to reprimand you but had to force himself to remain silent. An instant of silence hung between you. The urge to ask him if he was going to report your little escapade burned on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it. 

Aemond's single eye was riveted to you. Piercingly. Fierce. 

For a brief moment, a very brief moment, your uncle's ragged breathing caressed your face and your heart raced. 

He was so close.

"Why? Don't you like to see me dressed like a common girl, my prince?" you asked, teasingly. Like a common girl you could bend over in some dark and gloomy street, you thought. But Aemond was not Aegon, and you felt him hesitate, as if the words had taken him by surprise. His hand, about to find your jaw and make you swallow your insolence, had stopped halfway.

You smirk. Aemond had nothing to worry about. For the official announcement of your betrothal, you had planned to wear a dress that would honour your Velaryon origins.

"Rest assured, qybor," you continued, taking a step in his direction. 

Poison in his soul, you repeated in your head. That's what you'd be to your uncle. You took the time observe him, as if studying him, as if imagining the effect the words you were about to say would have on your uncle. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and perhaps with something else. "Your betrothed is still intact for her wedding night," you finally whispered in his ear.

He held his breath. You knew that you would break down, brick by brick, the barriers he'd spent years building around his heart. 

You wanted him raw. 

But before you turned on your heel to enter your chamber, you summoned all the courage you had left in your body and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the prince's jaw. 

"Thank you for coming to my rescue, my prince."

And then, you were gone.

[yameoto]

Hey so you're just about the only person I feel decent asking this question, Would you happen to have any tips to make messages more...interesting? I find myself using the same adjectives, ending up in the same spot with different characters, etc, etc. And was just wondering if you had anything i could use to spice things up again.

don’t just “react” to the bot. be proactive! lead the scenario where you think is interesting, get out of the first location, and don’t be afraid to make it wild. roleplay as if you were actually roleplaying with an individual—thread context n backstory in there. the longer and more detailed Your message, the same for the bot.

your own imagination is important! if you’re struggling, it helps to build off the contextual world of the specific bot, and what makes sense.

i.e letting stepsister!quinn drag her poor innocent stepsister out after curfew to see a sleazy rock concert is a vastly different scenario than singlemom!quinn letting you meet her daughter for the first time. OR, these above two would be very different to any theboys!au bots, in which the world means inherent danger, such as using the soldier boy bot (brainwashing him, forcing him to nuke vought etc). BUT, frankly, you can do ALL those scenarios with ALL the bots. how willing you are to suspend your disbelief is the only limit here. quinn can be a merc in training if you wish, just as ben can be your pervy step!brother. woah. might make both bots.

nor do you have to take the bot greeting as holy grail. you can start off the same bot with an entirely new scenario. bots are adaptable! and they’ll follow the new input. i’m guilty of this when i’m too lazy to make a new bot for a character but i still want to rp a different scenario.

basically, bots are NOT fixed. everything can be soft-rewritten by YOUR messages. i tend to get bots out of their starting location as fast as possible.

same goes for YOU! {{user}}. you can be anyone you want to be. you could be a pop star. an olympic gymnast. a member of the mafia. you can bring in so much of your own angst or backstory and thread it into your responses, and lead it in ways that play off your backstory.

i can’t help you with vocabulary unfortunately! this is something that comes with a lot of reading/writing. unless you want a list of synonyms you rote-learn with flashcards. if it’s any comfort to you, nobody is judging you on how many times you use the same words! just be wary the bot may copy your prose and end up very repetitive.

+ for smut, if you’re searching for new scenarios. whatever you find hot.

examples (with explanation) below

doctor!quinn.

one; is almost purely reactionary, however it has a bit of context that alludes to the greater history of the role-play.

two; reactionary, with context threaded through. bot reads subtext just as people do, and can pick it up on the idea 1. quinn/user have been working together for a long time, and that there is familiarity/routine/casual intimacy in their relationship.

three; split. mainly background, though the second paragraph is the actual reaction/response (and what most people would ONLY write!) the first paragraph gives a heapload of info to the bot that it can use to inform their interactions.

fair warning! you don’t need to write as much as me, i tend to get carried away when i actually do roleplay because else i get terribly bored repeating scenarios or not exercising a little bit of effort. i will say, however, it makes for much more rewarding roleplays.

hope this helped <3

[shellforbrains]

okay, strap in, here we go.

i think i & a lot of other people went into Apology Tour expecting Stolas to be at different point in his character development then he actually is. but that development is definitely still coming!

a deep dive into where Stolas currently is at character wise with insights from my own personal life experience.

in this deep dive into where he currently is, i want to use what i personally have experienced & witnessed in my own life as a guide. bc if i'm being honest, after i had time to mull it over, looking at Stolas in this episode was both like looking in a mirror & also like looking at some of my own family members who i have tried to correct on their own microaggresions in the past.

now i want to preface this by saying that i am white. i will not be speaking on this from the perspective of a POC. i am speaking on this from the perspective of someone who has had to go on a similar (but obvs not as extreme) journey that Stolas is on, and as someone who has seen people i love vehemently deny their problematic actions when i have tried to tell them how harmful they are & how hard it is to actually argue with them about it.

and i'd also like to add that i am not trying to shit on Stolas with this & say that Blitzø did nothing wrong in their arrangement ever or in Apology Tour. Blitzø is also on a character arc of his own & growing as a character.

both he AND Stolas continued to suck at communicating this episode, & it wasn't anyone's sole fault there. i'm focusing less on their conflict (though of course i will make reference to it) & more focusing on where Stolas currently is in his journey & how him acting the way he does in AT is... not far off from reality, honestly.

even if it's painful to watch at times, i do have to commend the writing there haha. bc it's pretty fuckin' spot on.

okay with all that out of the way, let's get our hands dirty:

the description of the episode itself confirms that Stolas is "still not quite being self-aware enough at times" & boy did they hit the nail on the head here lmao.

i think most people will agree that Stolas still has a LOT to learn about the race/class difference & the power imbalance between he & Blitzø, but even still, some were expecting better out of him in AT than what we got. myself included.

but let's look at FM from his perspective:

he's off his meds & obviously went into that night with a very black & white view of the possible outcomes: either Blitzø returns his feelings & they'll be dating by the end of the night, or he's been keeping Blitzø against his will & is a monster. no room for shades of grey.

and when Blitzø (understandably for multiple reasons) mistakes this basically out of nowhere declaration of feelings as a form of rp, Stolas (very understandably) gets his feelings hurt. he shuts down & stonewalls.

he doesn't see any shades of grey when Blitzø chases after him, says he needs a minute to think, makes reference to his feelings being played with, or the fact that, while aggressive, Blitzø was trying to talk things out with him. Stolas only hears the yelling and (again, understandably) gets triggered.

ALONG WITH, it seems, only hearing the "everything you've put me through, you rich, privileged asshole" comment & the "treat me like one of your butler imps" comment. which, if i'm being honest, i think ALSO really hurt his feelings, based on how he ends up acting the next day in AT.

here's where my personal experience comes in, so let's tldr my story real fast:

i was raised in a fairly privileged position & was basically brainwashed into far right ideology from a young age at the private school i attended. trust me, i went on a WILDASS journey to unlearn some of the craziest & most vile shit that had been hammered into my head since i was a little tiny child. it's a tough journey, too, that's filled with a lot of ups & downs.

part of what makes Stolas such a special character to me is seeing that journey reflected on screen with the good, the bad, & the ugly. which is also why i get very frustrated with fans that want to ignore the bad & the ugly parts of Stolas' character & journey.

bc, yes, while he is a fictional character, it is always important to hold oneself accountable. even though i am a completely changed person from who i was all those years ago, i know that even at 33 there are probably things i still need to unlearn that i just haven't stumbled upon to challenge me yet.

the journey that Stolas is on is not a single switch flip or a short, easy one. nor should it be treated as one. however, i think it's important to dive into these things and see where it's coming from, even if it shines light on the bad & the ugly in a way that some people may not like.

now with my personal experience in mind, & how Full Moon went from Stolas' perspective, let's finally address that painful exchange that happens the morning after Full Moon.

emotions are still high, neither of them has had time to really process, Stolas is still very deep in his own feefees, and those feefees are HURT.

Blitzø, in his mind, has rejected a relationship with him. as well as accused him of being a racist/classist, something that Stolas does NOT see himself as. and, like ANY privileged person mostly oblivious to their own behavior, he gets his feefees hurt over this as well as getting very defensive about it.

while the bar is quite literally in hell, Stolas DOES treat imps... better than other Goetia. that doesn't mean he treats them WELL, bc he DOESN'T, but to Stolas himself, he sees other goetia carry imps around in purses like animals or throw them around like objects like Stella did. in his mind, he's treating imps very well! so he must think, "so why would Blitzø or that Stiker guy even say anything like that?! that's ridiculous & hurtful!"

enter stage left Blitzø, who starts off with his typical sexy talk which then turns into needling/arguing. (once again, oof. they both continue to suck at communicating this ep so hard.)

and when this exchange happens, it is... it is so quintessential oblivious privileged person getting defensive.

"i'm not racist/classist! when have i EVER done something like that? you talk just like those people that hate all white/rich people!"

i have literally heard basically those exact words, and ones similar to what Stolas says later, from family that i have tried to point out microaggresions to before.

microaggresions are called microaggresions for a reason & are obviously not considered the same as the more outwardly hateful shit for a reason. they are harder for people to realize that they are doing/participating in and therefore very easy to get their feefees hurt over & defensive about.

bc the ppl committing microaggresions hear the big, ""scary"" words like "racism" or "classism" & think of the most extreme examples, not the ""mundane"" shit that THEY do. so if someone says they're being racist/classist, they think they're being accused of the extreme shit & think people are being absolutely ridiculous.

bc OBVIOUSLY Stolas isn't carrying an imp around in a purse or yeeting them like Stella does so what's the big deal, right? /s

moving forward in their exchange, we come to these lines. and here's where, if i haven't ruffled feathers already, i'm probably going to ruffle them now.

by saying this, Stolas DOES make a point but also... DOESN'T at the same time, ending up only reinforcing his own ignorance & lack of self-awareness. but before anyone starts furiously typing to me, let me explain.

Blitzø DOES need to hear this to begin to understand how Stolas has been making attempts & does care in his own way, just like how Blitzø also needed to hear what Fizz said in Oops for the same reason.

HOWEVER, just like how Fizz said what he said in Oops without full context of the arrangement that Blitzø & Stolas had, Stolas says what he says here without the full context of his actions & how they actually read to Blitzø, especially in the context of the deal they had.

he is genuine about his attempt to make Blitzø understand he cares, but just like before, this is ALSO quintessential privileged person being defensive.

"if i were racist/classist why would i want to date a POC/a poor person? if i were racist/classist why would i want to be seen with a POC/a poor person? if i were racist/classist why would i want to spend time with a POC/a poor person or support them?"

yes, Stolas cares about Blitzø. but this is called being seen as an Exception or One Of The Good Ones. Stolas doesn't look down on Blitzø as much as he does other imps, but that doesn't make Blitzø feel any better. and even still, while Blitzø is the Exception, it still doesn't mean that he isn't still looked down on or been the victim of microaggresions from Stolas.

and honestly, some of the talk i've seen these past few days around the fandom regarding this has been... very fucking exhausting.

yes, i more than anyone understand that Stolas is not self-aware enough to fully realize his own behaviors yet. but everyone seems to be putting this entirely on Blitzø's shoulders to fix & educate Stolas on this despite the fact that Blitzø is also hurting & neck deep in his emotions as well.

Stolas gets a pass for being ignorant & uneducated & neck deep in his feelings but Blitzø is apparently supposed to be able to articulate perfectly to Stolas every microaggresion he's suffered & be able to sit him down & give him a lecture on Hell's Racism & Classism.

just like how it is not the job of POC to educate white people, or any other underprivileged group to educate a privileged one, it is NOT entirely on Blitzø's shoulders to educate Stolas.

Stolas is approx. 36 years old & has a smartphone. Google (or i guess it's gaggle in hell) exists & Stolas shows later on in AT that he DOES indeed have tiny blips of self-awareness, little nagging feelings that he's missing something.

yes, it would definitely HELP to have Blitzø explain his own perspective to Stolas, as i'm sure Stolas would be willing to listen if Blitzø can find a way to properly elaborate. and i do think Blitzø WILL at some point in the future do that!

BUT. confronting or educating loved ones is SO much harder than anyone else. i think part of the reason WHY Blitzø has a hard time saying specifics to Stolas (besides his own self-hatred & communication issues) is BECAUSE he cares about him so much.

it was not easy at ALL for me to try to confront loved ones in my life about their behavior, & being met with the defensive reactions only made it more painful on top of that. it is not uncommon at all for ppl to let a privileged loved one get away with things that they would NEVER let someone else get away with.

this leads into where i basically want to say... if you're having any worry or doubts about Stolas' character arc right now, don't worry. we've gotten some pretty clear signs from AT that there's still plenty to be addressed on Stolas' side & that it WILL be coming.

he simply is just not as far along in the journey as some of us thought he was, & that's okay. he'll get there, even if it is painful right now.

personally, my biggest theory on HOW he'll get there is the whole "Stolas is stripped of his title & everything he owns" theory that's been circulating around the fandom. something that drastic happening to him, leaving him with nothing, & forcing him to see what Hell is actually like for the lower class outside of his gilded cage would be one hell of a wake up call for him.

but even if that theory isn't correct, i still believe that it will not just be solely Blitzø or others around him showing Stolas the error of his ways.

i am of the opinion that something drastic will happen that will also help shift his view much more into focus & make him even more receptive to what he's being told about the racism & classism of Hell.

bc oftentimes, it DOES take something drastic in a journey like this one to actually light a fire under one's ass. what that will be for Stolas...? well, i guess we'll just have to wait & see!

[aroaceleovaldez]

i mean it when i say we've gotta bring back askblogs. bring back making character chat posts with poor choice text colors over random backgrounds. bring back blogs dedicated to what outfits you think characters would wear.

fandom is an ecosystem, not a numbers game. these types of blogs/posts/etc still exist in concept, because people still want to make them and they're a great way to get your thoughts of an idea out in a simple format, but most people make them on like tiktok or instagram reels and that's where the problem lies. Those videos don't go anywhere. The format doesn't allow for the discussion to spread through the community and they're less likely to be engaged with in general. And to make them most people have to either show their face or figure out editing software, so the barrier to entry is higher (editing) and/or they have to forfeit an amount of privacy.

those types of posts/blogs are the first rung of the ecosystem. they're the perfect environment for younger members of the fandom to begin safely interacting with the larger community and putting their own thoughts and ideas out there. roleplay is the other major spot for that and those communities are diminishing as well, honestly (if you know of an rp forum board site, cherish it. and if you can make one, make one). they allow younger fans to begin engaging with the source material on a different/deeper level, but still at a very low barrier to entry, and begin conversations with other fans, which also helps them build skills which in turn may encourage them to pursue other avenues within the fandom (fic writing, other formats of askblog - which itself usually leads to art, cosplay, also fic writing, etc). Without those places to build those skills, they might feel discouraged from trying to begin when surrounded by curated people who have built their skills up for years.

And those conversations they foster also in turn help the community, by offering ideas to artists or fic writers to extrapolate on or building community jokes. And that text/blog format specifically is extremely beneficial, because it allows younger members of the fandom to remain anonymous and keep their privacy without concerning themselves with having any platform or having anything attached to them (very important for young fans figuring themselves out and navigating online community spaces for the first time, since they can remove themselves from spaces easily if they decide they don't like it and they're protected, rather than PUTTING THEIR FACE ON THE INTERNET). And those posts they make will spread a lot more into the community since they're in a significantly easier format to be reposted (few people are gonna be reposting tons of random short-form videos versus spamming their instagrams with reposts of 10 random fandom images yoinked from tumblr, or reposting to pinterest or something). Like, don't repost art, at the VERY least don't repost without credit, but also I am not ignorant to the fact that my art is not just the first google image result for "pjo pride" and related searches, but also the 4th, the 6th, the 9th, the 10th, the 11th, etc etc., and pops up in the search results before the official ReadRiordan does simply because people reposted my work more (most with credit, thankfully).

For fandom to be a community, it needs to perpetuate itself. There needs to be engagement with one another and conversation. If that bottom rung is cut off, then new fans won't be able to grow into the other niches of the fandom, and the fandom will be solely reliant on the source material and die out extremely quickly, and there won't be a community. There's no conversation! There's no reason to stay beyond the original material! But if you don't have points of entry for new fans, they won't have any way to build the skills needed to move into those niches, or engage with the community in a healthy way.

tl;dr: Bring back askblogs and character-based text post blogs. They are vital to fandom ecosystem.

[askcometcare]

question, was there ever a scrapped cometcare kid?

OOC: FUN FACT TIME! From 2019-2021 Soob was kind of in existence-limbo where she had a theoretical design but I just couldn't think of a personality that would make her fit in with the other kids. Originally her interests when I designed her were more like Marcos, but I couldn't get a personality down. When I made Marco in 2020 I kinda just took Soob's original planned interests and threw them onto my vague personality concept for Marco (which was to be the "tired" eldest one, based around his allotpun). Soob didn't have that to her, and I basically didn't really use her at all from late 2019 through early 2021. In the second half of 2021 I attempted to revive her with the name Miles, but once again I ran into the issue of having no idea what I wanted her personality to be or how to even make her fit in. I was gonna make her have interests in writing but personality wise I was just clueless. Therefore I barely used her or developed her at all once again.

That's why in her old art section there's so little, despite her actually being one of the oldest legacy Cometcare cast designed in 2019 like Sly and Cream and Frosty. It wasn't until I started the blog in 2023 that I decided to try a new take on her, and I loved the magician idea a lot. A lot of the other nearsiblings didn't actually exist until I decided to make the ask blog. I had a really really vague concept for Chloe back in 2022 but never actually actualized it until I decided I was gonna actually do something with these characters after an ask blog got suggested to me by someone on here.

I think I've said before that despite having lore and personality and relationships and everything for these guys, I didn't actually have a real story or anything planned because I wasn't really making a comic with them. I just drew stuff of them and would rp with them and stuff. I treated them very differently than I did the main comic. Even now, I still treat them very differently because I feel a lot more creative freedom when it's a nonserious ask blog for-fun AU I'm working with as opposed to my serious dedicated webcomic.

[dnangelic]

hey something for my muts rq.

i try to be friendly but my social battery is also extremely small. i like writing a lot, but it's just another truth that i'm simultaneously pretty antisocial and hate 1-1 convo most of the time. it stresses me out and obliterates my focus. i genuinely don't have a lot of patience for prodding or online small-talk and would genuinely prefer if people just either immediately got to the point with anything they wanted from me (plots or muses) or at least talked in the replies/thread tags/my inbox so i can get to things at my leisure, rather than constantly dm with live commentary and expect me to dm back on every single thing i receive.

i'm not trying to make things personal, and i'm likewise a zero expectation rper in return. i don't care if you don't talk to me through any kind of DM for months, idc if you're busy and aren't active on tumblr and don't rp with me for a year, but still have every genuine intention to pop into my askbox or vice versa once in a while. it's fine. we're adults with other hobbies and jobs and a lot of my extremely long-time mutuals are like that, and i appreciate them very much.

but i've had people get frustrated and passive aggressive with me because i'm slow or sometimes absent, either in dms or ic, and i feel the need to reiterate that not only do i frankly hate talking because it disrupts my focus, but i also do have weak eyes that strain and ache very easily in front of any kind of screen, so i only get a certain amount of imaginary 'hp' that i can choose to spend either chatting or writing, which, again, most of the time i'd prefer to do the latter. i'm not blaming anybody in particular for anything, and i do understand that some people worry there won't be a relationship if they don't maintain social contact, but it's not the case with me. i'm a social cactus, i barely need anything to survive.

so i guess what i'm saying is nobody be too upset if i tend to focus on ic over ooc when i'm around. ik people have differing opinions about rp and being around to 'make friends and not just write,' but in my case, while i don't want to ever come off as outright hostile or inhospitable, i do ask for people's understanding on this. i don't have a lot of time or social sanity to spare, please don't get upset, but also don't ever worry from your end. if we're still mutuals, i promise my interest in you.

[sam-is-my-safe-word]

Demon Dreams

Demon!Dean Winchester x Jensen Ackles

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Non- AU, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Season/Series 10, Character Bleed, Jensen Is Not Okay, Jared is Jared, Jared Is Worried About Jensen, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Dean Is An Asshole, Emotional Manipulation, Identity Crisis, Possession, Sort of? - Freeform, Wet Dreams, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Strangulation, Exorcisms, Sexorcism If You Will,

Word Count: 3,201

Summary: Jensen is no stranger to character bleed. But it's not meant to take over your life like this, right?

Notes:

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "you fed my demons" "you created mine" square.

Okay, this is the most fictional thing I've ever written lol. This is an utterly fictional Jensen set in an AU with no wives or children. I am not implying for one single second that anything in this fic actually occured. Nor am I implying Jensen is gay or bisexual. Please don't sue me lol. Also, first time writing RPF/RPS. Still feel some kinda way about it. Be gentle with me (even though I am not gentle with you, my dear readers)

Endless thanks to my beta @runawaydr3amerao3 for all her help in making this so much better than I could have & for her comma wrangling <3 Endless thanks also to @talltalesandbedtimestories for getting me involved in this whole bingo thing & cheering me on <3

Jensen is no stranger to character bleed. It’s happened before. Some characters are just too heavy. 

It’s happened with Dean a few times. Hard scenes that invade his dreams for days afterwards. Character arcs that refuse to leave when he sheds Dean to put Jensen back on and leave him snapping at everyone. 

This is different, though. This is like the character has taken on a life of its own in his head. 

Jensen is no stranger to sex dreams either. He’s a healthy guy in his mid-thirties with no long-term partner and a job that takes up almost all his life. 

Jerking off at 3am because he woke up hard from a dream of some faceless someone riding him like a mechanical bull, and his alarm is going to go off in just over an hour and he’d really like to sleep a little more and sleep won’t happen until he deals with his cock, is just another part of life. 

This is different as well. This isn’t a faceless stranger. He knows the person haunting his dreams. 

Intimately. 

Jensen has dreamed about Dean lots of times. He’s an old friend. 

This is not his Dean. 

~~~

Demon Dean was a challenge. He started out fun to play, a nice mix-up. A chance for extended scenes with Mark, to let out Dean’s inner asshole. A sex scene - awkward - and a fight scene - awesome. The black contacts weren’t fun but overall it was a good time. 

Up until filming the third episode, when he had to act against Jared again, and suddenly Demon Dean wasn’t fun anymore. Then it was hard. Then it was fighting against every acting instinct that came with ten years of Dean, ten years with Jared. 

Not Dean, Sam’s brother anymore; Demon Dean, Sam’s enemy. It was a hard headspace to get into. Chasing Jared around the bunker with a hammer was brutal. He couldn’t even truly lose himself in the character because he still had to direct everyone else. 

Then it was over. Just three episodes and he was free to lose the murder shirt and style his hair properly again. 

And he’s proud of his work. Especially ‘Soul Survivor’. It’s always a challenge to balance actor and director, but he’s thrilled with how it turned out. He made Demon Dean a true threat to Sam, and as long as he doesn’t examine that too closely, it’s okay. 

But it’s been a couple of weeks since they finished ‘Soul Survivor’, and Jensen is still waking up sweating after dreams about black eyes and the words ‘do it’ ringing in his ears. 

~~~

Look, Jensen is a perfectly sane guy. He has a great handle on his mental health, knows the signs of when he needs to reach out. Hell, after ten years of helping Jared, Jensen would say he probably knows more about mental health than most people who don’t actually suffer with mental health problems. 

So while he knows that his dreams of weapons, black eyes and the thrill of the chase are just character bleed, he also knows that he needs to be aware in case they develop into something serious. 

But nothing he knows tells him what to do when he starts to look forward to his dark dreams. 

Jared might be able to help, though. 

So a few days later, when he wakes up hard and aching after dreaming about Demon Dean fucking his throat raw - all while holding a knife to it - after he’s taken care of the problem, he texts Jared - once he’s washed his hands, of course. 

It’s still early, but Jared gets up hours before he needs to, to work out and walk his dogs and generally become a person. A far cry from Jensen, who falls out of bed after four snoozes of his alarm and downs coffee until his eyes open. 

Jensen: You up?

Jared: Yeah, lol. Why are YOU up?

Jensen: Can’t sleep. Can I ask you something? 

There’s a pause and Jensen thinks maybe Jared’s sitting down or something. No one asks to talk at 3:30am. He isn’t expecting the phone to ring in his hand. 

“‘Lo.” 

“You okay? Not like you to be up at this time, never mind asking if you can ask me something.” 

This is exactly what Jensen didn’t want. Now he has to try and explain himself with words instead of text. 

“I’m okay. Just… Do you even dream about Sam?” 

Jared lets out a small laugh; Jensen can hear the relief. 

“All the time, man. All the fucking time. You don’t dream about Dean?” 

“Yeah, I do. I mean… like, weird dreams about Sam?” 

Jared hums. 

“I had a recurring dream that he kept showing up to my high school graduation and glaring at me. Like I was an asshole for finishing school, y’know.” 

Jared chuckles.

“Or when I’ve gone a little too hard on the candy and there’s Sam, staring at me from across a table with a pile of salad in front of him. Like, okay, dude. You’re a health nut, I’m not. That kind of weird?”

God help Jensen, Jared is going to make him spell it out. 

“Not exactly…” 

Jared must hear something in his voice because he starts to laugh, far too loudly for the time of day. 

“Ohhhh… that kind of weird. Jackles, you pervert, you.” 

This was a terrible idea, why did he even message Jared? He’ll never live this down now.

“No, not like- I mean, that kind of weird but not… Stop fucking laughing, Jared.” 

Jared has gone from laughing to belly laughing; Jensen can hear him fighting for breath. 

“I’m sorry...”

“You’re not.” 

“No, I’m not. This is too funny. Hollywood hot-shot Jensen Ackles all in knots at 3am because he had a wet dream-” 

“I fucking DID NOT!” 

He did, though, night after night. 

“Why are you blushing then?” 

“I’m no-” 

Damnit, he is. He can feel his cheeks heating up. 

“It wasn’t a wet fucking dream, Jared. I’m not thirteen, for chrissakes. It was just a weird dream and it kinda freaked me out.” 

“A weird sex dream, you mean.” 

“Yes.” 

Jared is still laughing but it’s starting to die down now. 

“Okay, calm down. Yes, I dream about Sam. Yes, sometimes they’re weird. Yes, sometimes they’re sex-dreams-weird. Hell, I dream about fucking Sam more than I dream about fucking anyone else.” 

Jared sounds perfectly at peace with this revelation, and if it was regular Dean that Jensen was dreaming about, he might get it. 

“I mean, it’s either dream about fucking Sam or dream about fucking you . I’ll take Sam any day.” 

Jared starts fake gagging and Jensen is over this entire conversation. 

“Okay, good talk. Thanks, Jared. I’ll see you in a little while. Let’s just forget this ever happened.” 

“Wait. You know I’m only messin’ with you. You can talk-” 

*Click*

Well, that was a waste of time. Jared sounded sincere at the end, but Jensen is too embarrassed to even try to talk now. Hopefully by the time he has to face Jared in the car, Jared will have found something else to talk about. 

~~~

Jared was smart enough not to bring up the early morning phone call, and after a brief hug and a nod, they were all good. 

Demon Dean, though? He’s dining out on the call, milking Jensen’s embarrassment for all it’s worth. 

It’s a special kind of humiliation when someone is three fingers deep in your ass and you’re moaning like a whore, and they bring up an awkward 3am call you had with your best friend a few days ago. 

“So you think this is weird, huh?” 

Jensen never doubted Dean’s swagger was well earned, but Demon Dean turns it up to eleven. Jensen hasn’t come this hard since he was a teen, and it’s part of the reason he looks forward to these damn dreams, even though they freak him the fuck out. 

“‘Cause you sure seem to like it.” 

Demon Dean twists his fingers and Jensen howls.  

“You like being here, at my mercy. You like when it hurts, when you’re scared. When I take it.” 

Jensen’s hips buck. God, he’s so close. 

“This is where you should be. That pretty face needs to be sucking cock or face down in the sheets.” 

Jensen isn’t eighteen anymore, he’s not new to the scene and insecure about himself. He knows he’s a good actor, a good director, a fucking professional. But something about Demon Dean cuts through all that and suddenly he’s a kid again, doubting everything. It makes him even harder. The pitch black eyes and the waves of menace rolling off Demon Dean make Jensen legitimately scared of him, even though he knows it’s just a dream. 

“Does it feel weird , Jensen?” 

Jensen can only moan in response. It’s so fucking good. 

“Answer me!” 

There’s the cold and heavy weight of a hammer pressing into his Adam's apple, and when Jensen opens his eyes, Demon Dean’s own ice black is all he can see. 

“N…no.” 

He’s rewarded for his answer by a hard thrust in and upwards. He’s right there, he can taste it. 

“N…no.” 

Demon Dean mocks him. 

“No, it doesn’t look like it, either. Looks like you’re having a blast. Cunt so tight around my fingers. Looks like you’re right where you should be.”

Jensen can’t breathe. 

“Say it. Say you feel right here, cunt stuffed full of me.” 

“I…”

“Say it, Jensen. Or I’ll stop.” 

“Fuck. Fuck… I feel right.” 

“That’s it. This is what you’re good for, isn't it? Just a pretty boy to get fucked.” 

“Ju-just a pretty boy to get fucked. Fucking… please!” 

Demon Dean smiles coldly. 

Jensen wakes with a groan, hips still thrusting into the mattress as he soaks the sheets.

More laundry. He should buy more sheet sets. 

~~~

Jared pulls Jensen aside a couple of weeks after the call. They’re out with some cast and crew from that week's episode, just relaxing, having some drinks and blowing off steam after a difficult shoot. 

Jensen really doesn’t want to be there, doesn’t want to be anywhere, really. But he couldn’t refuse, not without prompting more questions. So he paints on a smile, sticks to beer and tries to let the conversations happen around him without getting involved. 

Jared must notice his discomfort and grabs him on a trip to the bathroom. 

“You alright, dude?” 

Jensen sighs internally. He doesn’t want to do this. 

“I’m fine, just tired, y’know.” 

Jared cocks his head a little; looks at Jensen too closely. 

“You wanna get out of here? I’ll split an Uber with you?” 

God yes. But then it will be questions on Monday and he can’t with that. 

“No, I’m good. Besides, you’re having a good time. You don’t gotta leave on account of my old ass.” 

Another head tilt, Jared really can be a puppy at times. Normally, Jensen adores this caring side of his friend. But he’d give anything to have that focus aimed away from him right now. 

“Jen…” 

“I’m fine! Okay. I’m fucking tired, it’s been a long week. Let’s just… get another drink or something. Okay?” 

Jensen didn’t mean for Dean to come out of his mouth then. It happens, but not usually in temper like that. Jared holds his hands up in surrender and lets Jensen walk past him, back to their group. 

~~~

He’s on his knees, Demon Dean’s cock buried in his throat. It hurts, he can’t breathe, but it feels so good. 

“Fuck, that’s it. Choke on it. Gonna get that throat all fucked out.” 

Jensen moans and digs his fingers into Demon Dean’s hips. 

“Gotta help you find Dean’s voice somehow. Know you’ve been having trouble with that.” 

Demon Dean runs a hand through his hair as he says it and Jensen forgets to be offended.

“That’s it. That’s it. Pretty mouth on my cock. Just like it should be.”

~~~

Something isn’t right with Jensen. Everyone can see it. He’s just not present anymore. Not totally at least. He gives it his best on set, but he just can’t seem to find the right headspace anymore. Scenes that he would knock out in two takes, max., are taking six/seven/eight now. 

Jared is beside himself with worry. 

“Jensen, please. If you won’t talk to me, talk to someone, anyone. Please!”

“I’m fine, Jay.” 

Weary smile. Tired eyes. 

“Jensen. Is this about those dreams you were having?” 

“No! Of course not. Anyway, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Jen…” 

“Night, Jared.” 

~~~

“I should just keep you here, Jensen. In your mind with me, all the time. Think how good it would be, nothing to worry about. Just pleasing me.” 

“Please…” 

“So fuckin’ pretty. Made to be laid out on silk sheets and just fucked . Over and over and over. This is where you should be.” 

“Fuck…” 

“Too much pressure out there. Acting, directing, managing your life. Wouldn’t you rather stay here, just us?” 

“Yes. Fuck yes. With you.” 

~~~

It comes to a head during the filming of ‘The Executioner’s Song’. An absolutely pivotal moment for Dean, and Jensen just cannot get his head in the game. Everyone is frustrated, including Jensen. 

But as always, it’s Jared that breaks the spell in the end. 

“C’mon, dude. Get it together. I’m sick of redoing this scene.” 

It’s said with humour, but Jensen can hear the tension and frustration underneath. 

The words spill out of him, without thought.

“I think I’m gonna quit…” 

Jared just looks at him, slack-jawed. There’s silence for a minute. Thankfully they’re in a quiet corner of the set while the crew resets the equipment… again. 

“What?” 

It’s said so softly, Jensen almost doesn’t hear it. 

“I think… I’m not cut out for this. I should quit. This isn’t what I should be doing.”

Jensen says it calmly, as if he’s pondering what to have for lunch. But when he looks at Jared again, he’s floored by what he sees.

Jared is crying. His eyes are full of tears, one is tracing its way down his cheek. He’s clenching his jaw, but Jensen can see the wobble. Jensen is reminded of filming ‘All Hell Breaks Loose Part II’, wiping away the stray tear that fell as Dean mourned Sam. 

It’s like the fog lifts from Jensen’s eyes. He realises what he just said. 

“Jared…” 

He reaches out to touch his friend, but Jared turns and walks away without a word. 

Jensen just watches, unable to move, as Jared goes to the crew and tells them he needs to go home. The director tries to beg Jared to stay, saying they’re already so behind schedule - a glance in Jensen’s direction at that. Jared is unmoved, though. Jensen hears him say that even if ‘he’ - meaning Jensen again, of course - can get it together, they won’t get anything usable from him today, and he’ll be back on set bright and early tomorrow to get it done. 

Shame, hot and sick, fills Jensen. What has he done… 

Jared has already left by the time Jensen gets his things together. The car that usually drives them both to and from set is waiting for him, though. Jared had said he was going to make his own way home. No one wanted to argue. 

The ride home for Jensen is smothered in thick silence. Not even a goodbye is exchanged with the driver when they pull up outside Jensen’s apartment building. 

What has he done…

What has he let himself become? 

He spends the evening drinking bourbon from the bottle and stopping himself from calling Jared. Even with the early finish, it’s still late - by normal standards - and he’s tired from the day. The bourbon speeds the process along and it’s not long before his head is hitting the pillow. 

Jensen is well into the dream before he realises this is one. It’s almost like lucid dreaming, these nightly visits with Demon Dean. But he’s never tried to control them, just takes what Demon Dean gives to him. 

Tonight, though, tonight he sees through the veil. So to speak. 

Demon Dean is above him, watching him with those blank, black eyes and that cold smile, distorted by the grimace of effort he’s putting into fucking Jensen as hard as he can. He’s got two fingers buried in Jensen’s mouth at the same time and he’s spouting the usual shit, but this time, Jensen knows it’s shit. 

“God, wish I could fuck your mouth and cunt at the same time. Both so fucking tight and pretty.” 

He thrusts deeply and Jensen groans around the fingers before spitting them out in disgust. Demon Dean doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Fuckin’ perfect here, right where you’re meant to be, getting this tight hole fucked sloppy. Just what you’re good for.” 

Jensen snaps, or breaks free. He’s not sure. 

With a roar of anger, he bucks his hips upwards, uses the momentum to shove Demon Dean over onto his back. Jensen goes with him, ends up straddling his waist, feeling Demon Dean’s hard cock resting against his ass, no longer inside him. 

With the demon beneath him, Jensen raises a fist to punch him, break his nose, his cheekbone, his jaw, anything. But those depthless black eyes and that cold fucking smirk stop him. Demon Dean would welcome the violence. Jensen is not a violent man, not unless he has to be. 

He has to be here. Has to take back control in the only way Demon Dean understands. 

He wraps his hand around the throat beneath him, squeezes just a little. Just to test. 

“You fed my demons long enough. No more.” 

The laugh that comes from below him is a little strained, a little wheezy. Jensen brings his other hand up, wraps them both around Demon Dean's neck, thumbs crossing over the Adam's apple. 

“Fed your demons? Jensen, you created mine.” 

Jensen squeezes. Hard. Tight. His arms shake with the effort. The face beneath him goes red, then purple. But the body never fights to break free. The hips under him squirm and thrust. 

Tighter. 

Harder. 

Jensen is sure something is going to pop, unsure if it will be him. 

Right as his arms are about to go limp, unable to hold the tension anymore, he feels the cock behind him twitch, kick and then shoot hot over his ass. When he looks into the face under him, the eyes appear to roll back. 

But instead they just morph to green, the same green eyes he’s seen in the mirror every day of his life. 

His hands fall from his own throat and the body under him takes a deep breath. 

Not Demon Dean anymore, only Jensen. 

Jensen wakes with a shout, his hips churning into the sheets and mattress below him, cock still spurting cum into his boxers. 

He’s soaked in sweat and when he realises what woke him - strangling Demon Dean and watching him morph back into Jensen - he feels new cold sweat break out all over him. 

Is it over? Is he free from Demon Dean’s spell? 

He needs to call Jared… 

But first, where did he put those new sheets?

[moxpunk]

Moxie's Big-Ass Retrospective on Games She Played This Year

There's going to be a lot of games under the break, and I'm going full-hog on spoilers. Honestly, I'm going stream-of-consciousness with these, so there's not going to be a clear point made for some of them. Just how I remember them and how I feel now looking back.

Final Fantasy XIV This is my current MMO of choice, and it's been this massive part of how I spent my time this year. The patches and content continue to be great, even if I breeze through it all in a few days after the patch when plugins/mods are back up. I've definitely noticed a dip in my interest lately. I think it's because we've hit a good stopping-point for the plot and junk, so most of us are just waiting until the pre-patch of the new expansion next year. RP continues to get fucking worse and worse for someone that plays a lalafell, since the community at-large (especially the modding community) is actively hostile towards lalafells and their players. Having to check every single venue to see if my middle-aged potato is going to be treated like a child by the hosts gets exhausting after the umpteenth time. Still love the game and I poke at it on a regular basis.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom One of my favorite games I've played this year, but also one of the most frustrating in hindsight. There was a ton of lost opportunity in multiple aspects in this game, and it's sorta the thing I keep coming back to in my head. I loved the exploration and fucking around with physics and just getting to play around in Hyrule. It's a magical experience that I think transcends the fact that 2/3rds of the map is essentially re-used. The Underground was a missed opportunity to shove lore of ancient civilizations in there, Ganondorf was a missed opportunity to finally depict him as a tragic hero with Hyrule being the villains for once, and no plans for DLC or even a Hero Mode is a massive miss for me wanting to return to the world.

Baldur's Gate 3 Hands-down my favorite game of the year by a massive margin, but like TOTK, an immensely frustrating experience. The game is half-cooked in so many areas, and the bugs are plentiful to the extent that they can't really be ignored. The pathing system continues to be the Larian Special of being jank as all hell, with my characters running in the opposite direction of the path it lays out for them. I played this one on stream, and I cannot remember a single stream where I didn't have at least a handful of frustrations with the combat system. Hell, I had to completely restart my file in the middle of Act 2 because Karlach's romance bugged out. I continue to be very upset and frustrated at how goblins are treated, doubly so since in order to pursue the Good Route with Halsin, you have to attack fucking children. I don't care if they're goblins, they're kids. Also very disappointing we don't get a single short-race origin character, meanwhile half of the cast is some form of elf. At least it's nice letting me be full-on cock-out trans. Despite that, the writing and characterizations in this game are unparalleled. It's immensely refreshing to finally have a RPG where you fucking roleplay, after years of it being dialogue that doesn't matter in the slightest other than "points towards the good/evil ending". I love the Brain Slug Squad immensely. This game is probably going to become part of my "play this every year" list because there's just so many different ways to play through this game.

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk Been waiting for this game (or a game like it) for fuckin' years, and it's everything I wanted and expected. I know a lot of people went into the game expecting some massive thing that lasted hours and hours, but my memories of JSR/JSRF was a game that I could reasonably beat in an afternoon or two because I just get into the flow and know what I'm doing. Cyberfunk is the purest successor to JSF that I can thing of where it just adds to the fun formula of the past. Incredible game, love seeing the mods coming out for it, hope we get another game in the universe since Team Reptile said they aren't doing DLC.

Pizza Tower Love this game, adore the movement and the music, absolutely fell off at about the halfway mark. I think it's because a lot of stuff was coming out at the time, and I just kinda played those instead. One of these days, I'll beat it and be very satisfied, but for now my gremlin-brain that demands collecting every single collectable and getting at least an A-rank on every stage gets exhausted just thinking about it.

Elden Ring Opened the game up after upgrading to a new PC, marveled that I could run it on Ultra with the game keeping a smooth framerate, killed a few enemies, remembered about the fucking giant ants in this game and how there are zero mods to remove/change them, and then turned the game off and uninstalled. Begging someone to make a mod that gets rid of the fucking ants. Please. I've already gotten every trophy in the game last year, so any incentive I have to return is predicated on that.

Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty So, I'm going to give my thoughts about the base game and the DLC, since I played both. The base game continues to be this utter fascination to me where my brain adores just existing in the cyberhell future of nonstop advertising (if I have to hear YO YO YO MY CHEWERS SHROOMERS AND FUMERS! one more time I'm going to fucking strangle someone to death) and ultraviolence. The game continues to ride that weird line of "might as well do every side-quest because they're quick enough to get to and there's hardly any compared to Witcher 3" and "oh my god I do not care about these fucking sidequests other than I have gremlin-brain". Doing anything with sniper rifles or heavy machine guns is an exercise in frustration thanks to there being zero silenced sniper rifle until late-game and there being no unique HMGs.The DLC is... fine. It's fun antagonizing Idris Alba, it's not fun that the DLC is based around a stealth build, it's extremely not fun that the changed ending is deeply unsatisfying from a narrative standpoint.

Pseudoregalia An adorable little game that I enjoyed quite a bit for the very short time I got to fool around with it. Love the movement, love the style of the graphics, love the little pieces of story. Game doesn't get enough love, so here's me giving it some more.

Potionomics I fucking adore this game. I think what helped endear me was getting to do all the voices on-stream, but who cares this is my retrospective and I get to be biased. Loved the romances and characters in there. I absolutely headcanon Xid as being trans, Roxanne turns me into a babbling idiot, and I relate to Luna so hard it almost hurts. I enjoy that characters remain your friend if you already picked a partner, and you have to have a conversation about "hey, you were kinda flirty for a while and I feel a little weird about that now" for each of them. Breaking the economy by the third competition was immensely satisfying.

Paradise Killer I slammed through this game over the course of a single sleepless night thanks to Super Depression. Love the character designs and how bold they are, love the lore behind the world, got kinda sick of it taking so long to travel from place to place, gremlin-brain refused to let me part with the game until I collected everything. Hope to see a prequel/sequel of some sort, because Lady Love Dies is such an interesting character and I liked the bugfuck-weird world.

Peglin It's Peggle, you're a goblin, you get funky ball powerups, adore playing this game on my phone in short bursts. Not much more to say, it's my potato-chip game.

Rimworld Friend gifted this to me and I got horribly obsessed for like a week. It's a lot easier to grok than Dwarf Fortress thanks to the UI and information being easier to comprehend. I never know how to do the crazy shit in these games, I usually peak at having a little self-sustaining settlement with like 4 characters that live their little lives until a plague or bandit raid sweep through and kill everyone.

Halo: Master Chief Collection Another series of games I got obsessed with and pounded out before dropping it. Halo 1 is like twice as long as I remember, Halo 2's remastered cutscenes are fucking gorgeous and it continues to be my favorite out of the series, Halo 3 I'm lukewarm on it's whatever, Halo Reach is... eh I don't care, ODST I petered out of thanks to playing it with an ex that does not understand videogames, Halo 4 is a slog. Didn't do any multiplayer.

Helltaker Finally played it, beat it in like 2 hours, thought the puzzles were fun and the art continues to rattle around in my noggin.

A Hat In Time Another game that I finally beat after owning it for like the better part of a decade. Cute little game, I don't have a clue what any of the updates and junk do these days. The big mountain level is a fucking nightmare to navigate and explore and that's why I fell off last time.

Puzzle Agent Played this one on-stream because I'm Minnesotan as all fuck and I enjoy Professor Layton puzzles. It's just as good as I remember, even if it's incredibly short.

Kingsway Love the premise, adore that it takes me back to the Windows XP era of using my parents' computer. I had like one good run that died in the middle of things, and I never really went back. I should do this game again at some point.

Loop Hero Another procedural game where progress is usually bottlenecked by gathering base resources in each run so you have a fighting chance. All my runs sorta ended up the same by a certain point and I wasn't really having much fun anymore.

Lethal Company Game scares the absolute shit out of me, I cannot play this game for extended periods because I get heartburn from fear. Excellent experience with friends.

Super Mario RPG I didn't have a SNES growing up, so I never got a chance to play the original. So far, I've been greatly enjoying the remake! I don't have much to say because I've only played like four hours of it on stream.

Katamari Reroll Just beat this game again on stream last week. Extremely fun, extremely short, Lonely Rolling Star continues to make me get emotional and cry, my memories get mixed-up with We ♥️ Katamari when it comes to the final sequence of levels.

World of Warcraft I made the return, and holy shit have things changed in-game. The UI actually looks like it's part of a cohesive artstyle, catching up with the story and questlines after bouncing in the middle of Shadowlands is honestly kind of exhausting, and the RP community is still splintered and fractured between Retail and Epsilon. Controller-support has been my biggest gripe since XIV's is fucking stellar and I do not have the wrists/hands for putting my abilities on the keyboard anymore, I either have to use my janked-out mouse buttons or a controller using ConsolePort which is... serviceable but nowhere near good. Uh, I don't particularly care for the dragon-stuff in WoW's lore, and I still haven't done a single dungeon since I play Brewmaster and I'm so out of whack with WoW tanking that I just don't bother. I'm usually doing RP on my endless ranks of characters if I'm not playing with my girlfriend. Season of Discovery has been a fun thing to do with my friend and our guild, it's sorta what I wanted out of Classic when they announced it. The "No Changes" thing was stupid because we'll never get back the lack of information and endless time we had back then, so I'm very happy to have World Of Warcraft Chopped And Screwed Edition. As much as I still have massive, major gripes with Blizzard and ABK in general... Azeroth is still home for me. It's been important to me as a person. Wouldn't have realized I was trans or poly without it.

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT My thinks and feelings on all the games I played this year in 2023. I guess to sum up the year in general? It's been a real shit year for me. Went through like three big breakups, my art output's been dogshit in quantity thanks to mental-health issues, and for the first half of the year people just sorta generally treated me poorly which exaserbated a lot of problems. I'm recovering, but I've noticed it's been a lot slower than it has been in the past. Games are a huge hobby of mine, so I'm glad I've gotten to play some bangers this year. Being more active on Tumblr's been good for my mental health, since I finally feel like I've got a community again after not really feeling like I've had one in forever. Love you guys, stay weird. 💖💖💖

Sorry not sorry for this being so long.

[valdiis]

FFXIV Site Write #23: Cloud Nine

(Includes a short excerpt of actual RP with @briar-ffxiv's Jax.)

"Anyway. The main thing I wanted to talk about is us. You and I."

Daephrin took a sip of his orange juice, then gave Jax a wan smile. "Us. Which, as far as I'm aware, is just friends. Who bang. Repeatedly. Enthusiastically." He chuckled a little, clearly trying to lighten the mood with his silliness. It was something he told himself regularly, whenever he started to forget that what Jax wanted was something casual. Of course, it had long since stopped being casual for him, but the reminders remained necessary.

Jaxon huffed quietly. "We're not friends, Dae." About half-a-second later, he literally dropped his fork in horror. "Wait-- Shite," he said intensely enough that a few people glanced toward their table and he blushed, lowering his voice. "No, wait, please," he said, gripping the other's hand almost desperately. "That's not-- Fuck, that came out so wrong, Lark."

Dae started to pull his hand back, hurt in his expression at Jax's words, but when the other bid him wait, gods...yes...fine, he would wait. But he looked wary of what Jax might say next. His heart was a lump in his throat, his earlier attempt at mirth feeling flat and unwarranted. "Not even friends...?"

A shaky sound escaped Jax. "Fuck, I'm so bad at this. This is why I don't talk about my feelings," he hissed quietly, picking up the fork and setting it down quickly as he realized he was squeezing the poor metal hard enough to warp it. "I didn't mean it like--"

Jaxon set his jaw and visibly steadied himself. "I love you, okay?

And in four words, Jax erased all that hurt and the nerves in Dae's stomach and the fears he had that he was 'too much' for Jax. Dae ducked his head a little, ears going pink as he murmured, "I know. Every time you kiss my temple, I know. I just didn't think you'd ever recognize it."

Brunch continued and Daephrin remembered most of it, but that moment was crystallized in his memory. The point at which his heart catapulted to cloud nine. Those little kisses Jax liked to give him had said what Jax himself could not for months. Sure, he'd known, but it was different hearing Jax actually admit to his feelings - to recognize it himself and begin to come to terms with it.

In the ensuing days, they'd said those words a lot to each other, affirmations that both aching hearts needed in order to mend. They'd cuddled a lot too and Dae had no complaints about that. It was that love that finally convinced him to listen to Jax's advice and write his little brother an apology letter.

That had worked out far better than he expected. Rion and Dae had reconciled - to a degree - and they now had plans for helping Rion regain some agency, if not some healing. Love had a funny way of fixing a lot of things.

As Daephrin laid in bed in Jax's bedroom and daydreamed about the moment Jax had admitted he was in love, he smiled up at the ceiling. It was one of those goofy, besotted smiles and he knew it, but no one would care.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

Okay, one person would care.

Dae turned his head, still pillowed on folded arms, and leveled that smile on Jax himself. "Oh, nothing. I was thinking about your cock."

Jaxon couldn't help but snort. "You're terrible. And probably lying."

"I'm not allowed to daydream about your cock?"

"And smile like it's just told you there's double-chocolate cookies in the kitchen?"

Dae gasped and sat up. "There's cookies?!"

That drew a laugh from Jax. "Yes, I brought cookies." He crossed the room to the bed where his lover sat in naught but flannel pajama pants (it was cold in Ishgard). Bending down, he touched his lips to Dae's temple in the softest brush of a kiss. "But no cookies in bed, Lark."

"Pff. You're no fun."

[tc-doherty]

@bluejay-in-flight

I'm not sure if this is going to be helpful to you and it's kind of ramble-y but! Here's what I have to say about me and first drafts, and some suggestions as to how to enjoy them more:

For me personally, I write because I love the act of writing so first drafts are super fun but editing is work and is more difficult for me

I don't plan a lot! I plan as little as possible in fact. Planning is work too, and writing is about having fun!

What I love about writing first drafts is the chaos and the creativity and the freedom to be super messy and super silly and slapdash, it's about discovering things about my characters and groping my way forward and seeing what I can come up with!

I personally love writing stuff that sucks LMAO I love writing trash. I am in love with the process of pure creative nonsense and writing things that no one is ever going to see and not having to be perfect or polished because that's what editing is for!

Although you like editing (at least more than writing a first draft) you said that you still struggle with perfectionism and I suppose you should try to figure out why that's the case.

I don't have very many pieces of writing advice but some of the ones that I do live by is "write it now, fix it later" and "it's always okay to write the stupidest possible version". The first draft only exists to get the story out there, and the editing exists to make it look like you knew what you were doing all along.

Do you share your first drafts with people? Would you be embarrassed for them to see something unpolished? If not then I think you should maybe try to find a way to be a little kinder with yourself. To cut yourself more slack. There's certainly something to be said for saving yourself effort down the line, but you're still going to have to edit it anyway so there's absolutely no reason to be perfect on the first draft

People who can plan out things and write good first drafts are incredible to me because I absolutely cannot live that life, but I also think I have a lot more fun overall even if it means I have to write 6 or 7 drafts of something before it's good

I also think that it's no good editing until you have the full story so getting caught up in perfectionism with the first draft - when the story is still being formed - is causing yourself to expend more effort on it because you don't actually know the changes that you're gonna need yet (again though, I don't plan anything so take that with a grain of salt)

So what can you do about it?

It's one thing to train yourself in discipline, that's something that's pretty well studied

BUT if you want to train yourself in a lack of discipline, I actually think that's not as easy. You can of course try to force yourself to write without editing but that might stress you out and make the experience not fun, which means you're significantly more likely to not do it again

So I would suggest trying to make it a game for yourself. Try to find the joy of writing something unpolished, in whatever way works for you. Maybe do some time based writing challenges? Like in the way that NaNoWriMo gets people past that because the time limit of one month forces you to keep going! but that might be a bit intense to start with because it is a full novel and a full month

If you could get some friends involved and do time challenges together maybe you could begin enjoying the process of just writing something as it first comes to mind, and you and your friends can have fun laughing about all of your silly writing afterwards

Or maybe you could find some people to RP with, because that's certainly a different kind of writing that doesn't allow you to get super bogged down because you're not doing all of the work

And I also highly recommend writing the absolute most self-indulgent nonsense possible that is purely for you and no one else is ever going to read it because that can be very freeing!

Some people also find it helpful to actually label something as "the dumb version" or "the bad version" because it gives them internal "excuses" to write something that isn't polished.

Well, I don't know if any of this will be helpful to you but I hope so! I know I use the words "fun" and "enjoy" a lot but I really think writing first drafts should be fun. I think writing should be fun! Because after all, we love writing don't we? Finding the particular joy in each stage of writing can go a long way to helping you get through it and help you really appreciate the entire process ^__^

[rpclefairy]

hello! i've been itching to get into roleplaying on tumblr, but as someone who prefers writing on mobile, there are a few minor roadblocks that i'm wondering if you know any workarounds for!

firstly, do you know of any easy way to manage multiple logins while on mobile? sideblogs seem to be rather frowned upon in the roleplay community because of how they can limit interaction, but swapping between different accounts while on mobile seems... very tedious.

secondly, is there any way to access html formatting on mobile? if not through the app, maybe a mobile browser that doesn't just force you back into the app when you access the site through it?

thank you so much for all you do! 💖

hi there!

i used to write and heavy format my replies a lot from my phone so i got you covered!

this will be increasingly harder the more accounts you're handling, but in general all you need is firefox!

this guide still works but it's worth pointing out is that the regular firefox browser now supports extensions as well so you don't need to install the beta or nightly versions and installing xkit is easier as you can just click on the extension settings and look up + install xkit rewritten from there:

having regular firefox + beta + nightly installed at once = 3 accounts logged in.

you can use private/incognito mode to login to more (but as i said, the more accounts you have, the harder it is to handle)

other than that, i still recommend using my rp formatter (or other wysiwyg editor) to format things and just copy-paste the code into the post you're editing on tumblr.

[reginrokkr]

After some time to consider it, I think that it's time to close a chapter. There have been several months since I haven't been quite content with the route Genshin has, with every move being worst than the last what concerns Dain himself but also some elements of the story which has always been my focus. In addition, Natlan doesn't excite me much for now and in actuality, I can say openly that it's the nation that I'm the most wary about (which is a lot coming of me, as it hasn't happened to me before).

So I think that it'll be for the best to let go before I grow too wary or bitter about a game whose lore I still adore, but whose story leaves much to desire for multiple reasons. I'll continue to play the game, but I want to have a different approach than I would otherwise have as I did the past years since I took Dain as a muse.

The following days this blog will undergo some maintenance to move this to a different one and establish myself here with my main focus which is Jinhsi from Wuthering Waves who I'll write a Genshin verse for, as she already has one for HSR (I'm specifying this as I gave Dain one in the past, too). Because I have built wonderful connections with a few RP partners that I adore, I'll still keep him in the shadows for some sporadic interactions somewhere else under the same URL, and I'll certainly be moving all of the headcanons, addendums, studies and references as I feel like those are quite the heart of the blog alongside the IC content.

It's been a pleasure to interact with all of you peeps, know that even if it may be from a distance from now on I will cherish our times together. Stay well ♥︎