#fandom spaces can be harsh i know

[anodyne-sunflower]

What's your opinion on ascended astarion fans?

No real problem, to each their own and I believe people should play a game however they want. Plus, if you're doing an evil run, it probably suits the narrative you want to build. Either way, it's your game, do as you please.

The only time I'm bothered is if they try to convince me it's the 'good' ending for him or that he isn't toxic/abusive or to just change my opinion at all. Again, as someone who has been in a toxic/abusive relationship, I'll never like ascended version. Not for me at all, and I won't budge on it being the objectively bad ending.

But most fans seem to stay within the spaces they enjoy, so it hasn't been a big problem, thankfully. Just be respectful, and no need to argue the point in a nasty way either. Just do what you want and enjoy it how you please.

[r0-boat]

Hii, could I request a nsfw headcanos with Leviathan, Lucifer and Beelzebub. How would these kings react when they're doing the 👉👌 with MC and suddenly, somebody interrupts them.

Asldhfkld I just really love your writing to this fandom 💖💖

Yes!! Thank you so much thank you for adopting me into your fandom I am just a lonely writer looking for a home 🥺

Whb kings

Leviathan, Lucifer, Beelzebub

Reaction to demons walking in on them and Mc

Nsfw

Part 2 here

Leviathan

Using his cum as lube, He grabs over your legs, holding you in half. Climbing on top of you, He presses his whole body down onto yours, Your legs over his shoulders as he begins to pound hard, deeper mercifully. His whole coffin begins to creek as the sound of his balls slapping against your skin fills the room. And even then, the sound of the door opening cuts through like a hot knife through butter. He slams his cock deep inside, holding it there. His grip on your hips tightens, digging his fingers into your skin. Leviathan flips you onto your stomach pressing your head against the pillow blocking your vision the same time smothering you.

He growls at whatever idiot that decided now was the time to bother him. He didn't even get to see who it was.

"Hang!" He shouts. The door immediately shuts probably the rope taking the demon with it.

They could hang there choking till he's done for all he cares. No one gets to see you sweaty messy and filled.

Lucifer

His hips slowly grind into you. He holds you close to his body, his lips gently kissing every inch of your neck. He goes slow at first making sure his hands touch and feel every inch of your body, He wants to make sure his cock memorizes every squeeze and pulse. And he needs you to feel every vein and curve has he tries to get to know more of your insides. Trying to find every spot that makes you curl your toes, that makes you moan his name. His tongue slides into your mouth when he begins to speed up his hands lifting you with ease as he uses you like a toy, space begins to quicken when he feels you clench.

He buried his nose into your neck His teeth was just about the sink into your skin until.

The door opens, and Lucifer's eyes widen using the blankets he covers his and your body. He lets out an animalistic hiss, His eyes going black, his Little tufts of bloodied feathers ruffling. If the demon valued their life, they would leave the room.

Beelzebub

Making you scream and cry out his name, his harsh pace of his hips smacking against yours does not falter even as he hears the door open.

It was Bael, with paperwork in hand, about ready to yell at his king for yet again skipping out on work. Beel only smirked at his new audience member manhandling your body till you laid against his chest as he thrust up into you, showing his noble all that you have to offer. Bael stops in place from the scene before him. His eyes widened, his cheeks flushed, and his pants tightened.

With you still rising and whimpering his name Beel gave the demon in front of him a shit eating grin.

"as you can see I'm very busy, but I suppose I don't mind putting on a show~"

[flightlessangelwings]

While we’re in Latino Heritage Month, let’s stop assuming your reader doesn’t know/speak Spanish in your reader insert fics. Especially if you’re writing for Pedro’s, Oscar’s or other Latino characters please.

EDIT: After some criticism of how this was originally phrased, let me change it into a question/request instead- Can we as writers please try to be more inclusive with our reader insert fics so poc and others can feel represented and see themselves too? Including taking out a quick throwaway line about reader not understanding Spanish. (Keeping the original phrasing above so anyone who missed the post to begin with can still see how I originally phrased it)

If you have a throwaway line of “he said in Spanish that you didn’t understand” or something similar, just take it out. Have something like “you didn’t hear” instead and let the reader interpret how they want. Or use italics to indicate Spanish. Or have the translation right there without mention of anyone translating for them. Simple. Or if you don’t want to/feel you cannot change it, then please have something in with your warnings so Latinos/poc can skip it if they choose.

And let me tell you why this is so frustrating (even for me as someone who is not a fluent speaker). It’s because Latinos look to these characters and actors for representation. We see ourselves in them. And when you clearly do not have a Latino person in mind when writing, you’re saying we don’t belong here. In a space where we should feel welcomed and celebrated. Representation matters. Inclusivity matters. Please try to be more inclusive with reader fics so we can all enjoy and immerse ourselves in your writing.

ALSO EDITING TO ADD MORE FROM A REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE MY CLARIFICATION: (under a cut for length)

This is nothing new, poc have been asking for years now to be inclusive in fics and yet it’s still a battle. We’re not asking for a lot, and certainly not asking anyone to change their style or creativity or anything like that. Literally simple edits: take out the word “blush” don’t mention hair, don’t mention not understanding Spanish, not making reader blood related to a white character, etc. Literally tiny things that would not change the story at all but make a world of difference.

Here’s an example too: a few years ago it was not common for writers to label the gender of their reader as it was usually assumed the reader would be a woman. But, people advocated to label readers as f/m/gn/whatever to be more inclusive and asked writers to strive for gender neutral readers when possible so that more readers felt seen and welcome. Now it’s a common thing to do. Why is making the readers race ambiguous any different?

Yes sometimes posts like this come across harsh, but know that they’re not meant to be. Poc aren’t trying to demand anything, we just ask to broaden your langauge when writing reader insert so more can see themselves in your work. It’s incredibly frustrating to ask for inclusivity and be met with hostility and rudeness in return and a refusal to think about poc so yes sometimes the wording gets harsh out of that frustration. But I encourage y’all to focus on the message more and maybe think about why poc in fandom get snippy like this. We do need to have an open conversation, yes. Just look in the comments at the Latinos and poc who are upset by the exclusion and feel hurt by it. How you you white fans feel if roles were reversed and none of the fics included you? Not fun, right?

And to those who say write it yourself: I do. I’ve been a x reader writer for years now and I do strive for inclusivity in my work. But I’m only one person and this is bigger than any one person. This isn’t about what I personally find acceptable or what I personally what. It should be a collective effort among writers as a whole to strive to include as many as possible in their works and not white code your readers. It’s not about demanding writers write it a certain way, it’s about asking writers to consider others who don’t look like them who also want the immersion and the escape that your fic brings.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I am often really very frustrated that there's this sense in some OFMD fandom spaces that you need to justify liking season 2. Which is bizarre, because season 2 is, like, good. It's good TV.

Like, yeah, nothing is beyond criticism. I have my nitpicks. But the more I watch s2 the happier I am with it, especially knowing now that they had a fucking 40% budget cut and it still managed to be as good as it was. They never lost sight of what was important and Ed and Stede's relationship is very satisfying. It's emotional, it's sweet - this show has so much heart.

And I think part of the issue with how harsh people can be with season 2, ironically, is that it didn't end on a cliffhanger, so people just assume that's how the story was meant to end, when we KNOW it wasn't. We've known from the start they wanted three seasons. They were very kind to end season 2 in a happy place, but there's so much story left. Stede still needs to internalize that he's allowed to be soft and his friends and boyfriend love him for his softness, not in spite of it. Ed needs to internalize that he was never an irredeemable monster and he's always been loved. Their arcs feel incomplete because they're literally not complete.

Despite that, season 2 was good enough that if it really is all we ever get, I won't be happy, but I'll be satisfied. They wrote us a lovely season of television and they did it despite great odds and a massive cut. They gave us so much to love and you can feel the care in every second of this show.

This is an OFMD s2 positivity blog and my account is a safe space ship! 🧜🏼‍♂️

[monstrousvoice]

Bar Snack

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Female Reader

AN: It is 4am and I wake up. I see this post and am struck with the desire to write smut.

I do so.

Tags: PWP, Female Reader, Reader has a vulva, Cunnilingous, Sex in a Public Space, Daddy Kink, Mentions of Husk being on the chubbier side, If I missed any tags please let me know

Read on AO3!

“J-just hold still, alright?”

“You mister, have had too much!” You laugh, even as you let Husk manhandle you onto the bar top. The tips of his claws prick at the soft flesh of your hips and the sting has you biting your lip and hissing in pleasure. Husk's ears twitch and rotate to face you, taking in every noise you make. His golden eyes lock on to you, pupils dilating and contracting rapidly. He lets out a low growl.

“So what? Just…just need to hear you, need to-...to taste you a little, baby-” He leans forward, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent. You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him closer to you. You feel his teeth ever so gently graze across your neck, following the coarse feeling of his tongue as he licks you without shame. A sudden nip has your hips bucking towards the counter edge and against his own, your legs wrapping tight around his hips. 

You can feel him, his hardening cock slipping out of his sheath and pressing against you. His wings flutter before you, tense with the muscles in his back as Husk makes it his mission to suck a hickey onto every available spot of your neck and shoulders. His claws, still on your hips, dip underneath the edge of the dress you have on, pushing the fabric up to stay bunched up around your waist.

“W-what if-what if someone comes in-?” Your voice is no better than a whisper, your breath stolen by the attention being lavished upon you. Even as you worry, your hand moves from its clawed grip on his shoulder to travel down, and you smirk in victory when you find your prize. You cup Husk's growing bulge, outlining the shape of his hard cock and balls through his pants. You give his balls a gentle squeeze and are rewarded with his hips bucking into your hand, wings flaring, and a bite on your shoulder that does nothing to muffle his possessed growl. 

You keen, proud of yourself. 

“F-fuckin slut-” He hisses against your tender new mark. “Acting so worried but you go and do that.” His tone is harsh, but the gentle lapping of his tongue shows he's anything but angry. 

“Just because my Daddy doesn't-” You moan, interrupted as his paw moves to your cunt and presses. “-m-make the best decisions, doesn't mean I'm not gonna take care of him~” Husk chuckles, a deep, low sound that vibrates through your body. Your hips are moving on their own, rocking your hot core against the fingers still pushing that maddening pressure against you. Your slick is leaking through your panties and you know he can feel it. 

“You do take care of me, don't ya baby doll?” The tenderness in his voice is unexpected but not unwelcome. Husk hooks a finger from his free hand under chin, turning you to look him in the eye. “You’re always there for me, bad day or no…my good girl.” His pupils are wide and fuzzy, and the tenderness you see directed at you is almost too much to bear. You practically freeze, locked under those eyes as he leans forward and kisses you with such softness it feels dream-like. You press back, welcoming his affection with a moan of bliss and fluttering eyelashes.

His tongue meets with yours as the fingers pressed against your cunt move again. You feel the pressure ease away and almost whine into the kiss, before feeling his claws hook under the fabric of your panties. The sound of seams ripping hits you, and you're distantly aware that you are, yet again, down another pair of panties. You don't really mind though, not when losing them leads to situations like this. 

Husk's claws are back to your drooling slit, tracing up and down with a sort of reverence. Your pussy feels hot and slick, and Husk groans low in his chest when he uses two fingers to spread your lips, your arousal drenching his fingers. He pulls away from kissing you and you pathetically chase after him for more. He presses another quick one to your bruising lips, then another when you keep following after him. 

“Alright baby-” He grunts, and you press more kisses to his muzzle, trying to bring him back for more. “C-c’mon sweet girl-no more…” You stop, leaning hard into his chest, the weight of his tummy pressing into yours. You whimper and bite your bottom lip, wanting to protest but knowing better than to do so. You try to plead instead. 

“Pl-please daddy? Just, fuck, just a couple more while you f-fuck me? Please?” You grind your cunt against his fingers as you beg, unashamed at the possibility that someone else in the hotel could walk in to find you moaning like a whore for the bartender's touch.

“No baby, no, cause I'm not gonna fuck you-” Your heart drops at his words, desperation and fear immediately setting in. Your mind races with things you could have done to deserve a punishment tonight, and you watch with wide eyes as Husk lowers himself to his knees before you. 

“Yet.” He hisses. Relief floods you instantly, and by the mischievous glint in his eye, Husk knows how worked up his words made you. He chuckles and moves his hands to your thighs, cupping them and pushing them apart to give himself a first-class view of your cunt. You bite your bottom lip and look away, closing your eyes as your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You can feel his paws move closer to your pussy, until his thumbs are suddenly touching. He plays with your lips for a moment, his thumbs spreading your slick everywhere before hooking them and spreading you open.

Your cunt is forced to gape before his eyes, fluttering with arousal despite the mortification burning you alive. 

“Fuck, what a pretty cunt. Already this wet from some kisses and rubbing? Heh, you're dripping on the floor at this point.” You whimper and keen, peaking an eye open to look down at him. His eyes are like molten gold as he stares back at you. 

“Don't be embarrassed baby girl, it's alright. Daddy’s gonna clean up your mess.” You barely have time to process his words before he leans forward and trails one long lick up your pussy. Your hips buck immediately at the feeling of his rough tongue against you, pushing your hips up into his muzzle. 

“S-s-sorry Daddy-!” You whimper, but Husk doesn't stop. He simply wraps one of his thick, heavy arms over your hips and pins you to the bar top, licking away at your cunt like he doesn't have a care in hell. You shudder and gasp, your hips twitching to grind against his mouth for more than rough kitten licks but unable to with his arm pinning you down. The knowledge makes your blood burn hotter, seeing how easy it is for him to control and manipulate your body to his will. His claws dig into the fat of your thigh and hip as he eats you out like a five-star meal. 

You feel his tongue wiggle inside, your gummy walls clenching down in response to squeeze a cock that isn't there. Husk lets out a purr in response, the only sound in the hotel bar besides the slick ‘slurp’ noises he makes as he sucks your clit like it's his favorite piece of candy. You can only throw your head back against the bar and endure his assault, wishing that the sweet torture would never end. 

“D-Daddy, fuck-! Please, please d-don't stop, please-” Your words start to slur together as you beg for more. You bring a shaking hand from your face to your hips, gripping the paw holding you down like a lifeline. A sharp nip to the hood of your clit has you gasping, sitting up straight to look down at your boyfriend with shock. He doesn't stop, still lapping away at your fluttering cunt. His eyes are hooded, taking in the sight of you sitting above him, losing your mind on his talented tongue. He pulls away from his feast only briefly to rumble a command at you. 

“Hold my head baby, don't let go.”

You do as you’re told, taking your hand not holding his and carding it through the fur on top of his head. Husk lets out a pleased rumble before diving back in, suckling your swollen clit without mercy. You cry out, throwing your head back and gasping at the sensation. 

You're so close, you can feel the coil in your cunt, the pleasure shooting through your veins that lets you know your orgasm is on its way-you just need-need a little more-

A new sound reaches your ears, wet and slick like the sounds coming from your cunt, but just off ever so slightly-

You look down at Husk, his eyes closed as he loses himself to your taste. You can see his breath steam up as he snorts from his nose, drowning in your smell. Looking down further you see it, past the wonderful thick belly you nuzzle into every night. Husk has undone his pants one handed while eating you out, and his free hand, you hadn't even noticed it leaving your thigh, was fisted around his cock. Pink and red peaked at you from between his fingers as he tried to jerk himself in unison with his mouth as he ate you out. A thick glob of precum was drooling from his cock head, getting swiped up by his thumb to make his hand move slicker, only to be immediately replaced by more. 

A full body shudder tore through you at the sight, your own mouth drooling with the desire to have that fat cock shoved down your throat as Husk moaned for you. It was enough, and your cunt squeezed tight around nothing as Husk licked and sucked your clit.

“C-cumming-” You gave a breathless cry, hips bucking in vain against Husk's strong grip, your orgasm tearing through you with an intensity that had your toes curling and thighs squeezing tight around Husk's head. He simply moaned low in response, lost in the feeling of your thighs squeezing and your hand pulling his fur as you lost yourself to him. He continued lapping at your swollen and puffy cunt, making sure not one drop of your cum was forgotten by his tongue. Even as your body fell boneless under him, he kept licking and sucking, moving to the meat of your thighs to leave hickeys and bite marks as you recovered and learned how to be alive again. 

“How ya feeling baby doll? Talk to me.” He spoke, his voice sounding gravely and deep even to himself, thick with lust he hasn't had a chance to relieve yet. He tucked his still hard cock back inside his pants, zipping it up just enough to keep himself from popping back out. He stood back up, leaning over your limp body on the tabletop. You gave him a dazed smile from where you lay.

“G-good…thank you Daddy, for letting me cum…” Husk smiled, pulling you in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. You whimpered into his mouth as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the bar top and into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his hips immediately, your still sensitive pussy being pressed against his hard cock, covered in fabric. He pulled away from your kiss, adjusting you in his grip as he began walking towards the hotel elevator. 

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he walked. “Now, you're gonna be a good doll and let Daddy have his turn, yeah? I need a tight little hole to fuck~” He growled in your ear. You felt the vibrations from his chest travel through your whole body. Despite cumming already, your pussy throbbed at his words, and you moaned. 

“Y-yes Daddy, whatever you want-” You managed to whimper, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

~~~~~~~

The following morning, Husk walked behind the bar to find a note folded with his name on it. He raised a feathered eyebrow, feeling curious as he opened it. It was Charlie's neat cursive. 

Husk,

Nifty found a rather…interesting piece of clothing early this morning when cleaning. I frankly don't want to know what you two were doing last night, I don't need details, but I do ask that you clean up after yourselves at least. 

Thank you! 

Husk snorted, pocketing the note to show you and laugh about later. He supposed now he and the princess were even, considering the sight he had walked in on in the kitchen just a week ago.

[felucians]

un bisou

Fandom: Marvel X-men | Gambit/Remy LeBeau x Reader

Reader is gender neutral with no physical descriptions. Rated PG-13 because Gambit would be the type of guy to grab anyone's ass during a kiss, he would test the boundaries and we all know it. Reader is a mutant with celestial Sun powers - technically based on my OC's powers which manipulates the Sun, specifically it's fire.

Summary: Takes place during Days of Future Past in the original X-Men series, where Bishop accuses Gambit of an assassination that destroys the future, reader is the only one to believe him. Pre-established relationships between Rogue/Gambit, Reader/Gambit and Reader is a member of the X-men team. Title is French for "a kiss". Wordcount: around 800 words.

"Don't nobody trust Gambit, eh?"

Rogue can't meet his eyes, her gaze downcast and guilt etched onto her features.

Gambit won't look at you, at your eyes glazing over in tears as your shared family denies him, believes that he could be the assassin. He didn't hear your whisper of "I do" as he loudly announces to the room, "Then Gambit don't need nobody."

He stalks away, glowering as his trench coat flows behind like a cape, and then the room is silent as his footsteps fade.

The lights black out and you're finally unfrozen, "How dare you? All of you? Not trusting one of our own, our team. Who are we if we cannot trust each other? What kind of family is this?"

The Sun hesitantly flickers through the windows, as solar flares begin radiating from your arms, anger burning through your body.

Rogue is first to speak, "Calm down, Sugah—"

"Calm down? When you all just turned your backs on him?"

Jean fixes you with a soft, understanding gaze and whispers "Go" in your mind - your chair hits the wall, leaving a dent with flashes of celestial energy trailing behind.

You don't even realise your feet carrying you through the hallways, yelling his name throughout the mansion, praying to anyone listening that he's still here and you find him before he leaves here, before he leaves you.

He's standing, paused at the doorway to the X-jet, breathing heavily with angry mutters of Cajun creole - blurring English and French seamlessly. Gambit looks up at the sound of your footsteps, a flash of vulnerability in his eyes that left in a second, replaced by a harsh piercing glare, "Porquoi êtes-vous ici, Dulcinée?" (Why are you here, sweetheart?)

The nickname is spat out, venom seeping out from the endearment that would usually bring a soft flush of heat to your face. You try not to flinch. Emphasis on try, because you do, and his face somehow looks even more pained at that. Words evade you as your throat dries, refusing to respond, so you take a deep breath and a soft gulp before you respond, grateful that you could understand his mother tongue.

"I'm here because I trust you, Remy."

He falters, searching your eyes desperately to spot any falsehoods, any inkling that you were spying on him for Charles - he doesn't find any. He finds pure raw love, the kind you knew you felt but could never truly verbalise.

Everyone on the team could see your soft spot for Gambit, and he knew it too. Sure, he flirted with every woman he came into contact with and he couldn't stop thinking about Rogue - but there was something about you that left the Cajun torn, as if he also loved you but didn't dare bare his heart to anyone, as if his shield crumpled, then his world would collapse and destroy everyone he cared about with it.

But here, with only you left, dangerously close to him in the enclosed space of the doorframe's entrance, he couldn't remember why he kept those walls up. He allowed his eyes to flicker to your soft lips, watching intensely as you involuntarily catch the bottom one in between your teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest and before you can think to pull away, to move down the hallway or into the next room, his big hands are splayed on your soft hips, your spandex suit in bright terracotta separating your skin to skin contact.

He's surprisingly soft, as his lips meet yours and he tastes like spice and tobacco. It infiltrates your senses, enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and desire while you gasp, allowing him to deepen the kiss further, to let Remy explore your mouth, your taste, your emotions. His gloved hands grasp around your waist as the other dips down to your ass, giving it a small squeeze. His smirk brushes his stubble against your cheek at the soft breathy moan you let out from his actions - you would swear Jubilee was in here with the amount of fireworks lighting up your veins, the passion and love igniting your whole body in flames.

Gambit pulls away, and his face is almost unreadable and then it's sad. It's a goodbye kiss, you realise as he walks past you through the door to the X-jet - and you almost let him.

He's so lost on his own emotions and thoughts from the kiss that ghosts his lips that he doesn't notice you slipping into the darkened room after him, only to be blinded by the harsh lights as Bishop and Wolverine reveal themselves, entirely unaware of everything that just transpired between you both...

[captainsophiestark]

Come Here Often?

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Everyone in the Inner Circle knows Cassian and Y/N have feelings for each other, except the two idiots in question. Thankfully, the IC's not known for minding their own business, especially in matters like this.

Word Count: 1,772

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Are you sure you don't want to go see a show at the Ampitheater tonight?" I asked, trying to give Mor a guilt trip with no more than a look as we carried bags towards the river house. She just scoffed at my attempt.

"I already told you, I can't. I wish I could, but our lovely High Lord has me doing work all night tonight."

I huffed. "Fine. Let me know if I can do anything to help with the work, since I'm losing my theater buddy."

Mor shot me a grin. "I'm sure you could find somebody to replace me if you really wanted to."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew what she wasn't saying: that I should invite Cassian. To do something, if not to go to the amphitheater. I regretted ever telling her I'd caught feelings for the Illyrian general.

"Whatever, Mor," I scoffed, failing to come up with a better comeback. She grinned, clearly sensing her victory, but luckily for me I'd reached my room. "Enjoy all that work you have to do tonight!"

I didn't wait for her response before ducking through the door and shutting it behind me. I could hear her laughing as she continued down the hallway to her own room, but I did my best to block it out as I dropped my bags.

I hovered a little longer in my room, taking my time putting away the things we'd brought back from the market, until I heard Mor leave to go do whatever work Rhys had her doing. I checked both ways in the hallway when I finally emerged before heading down to the kitchen.

All of my friends had been hounding me about Cassian lately, and as much as I loved them, if I heard another word from anyone trying to nudge me into asking him out or whatever, I was going to lose it.

I made my way towards the kitchen, intending to make myself a snack before figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my evening, but I stopped short at the sound of harsh whispers coming from within. It sounded like somebody was having a heated conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt anything. But then my stomach rumbled, and I decided to go in anyway.

I cleared my throat and made as much noise as possible so I wouldn't interrupt any Inner Circle members in the middle of something serious. When I rounded the corner, I found Cassian and Azriel sitting at the table in the middle of the space, leaned back in their chairs and trying way too hard to look casual.

"Hey guys..." I said, eyeing them both suspiciously as I slowly moved further into the room. Az gave me a little nod, and Cassian gave me a smile that looked more than a little forced. "What, uh... what are you both up to?"

"Rhys needs my help with something," Azriel said, standing abruptly. I narrowed my eyes at him, but of course his expression gave away nothing as he headed for the door. "I'll see you both later."

I watched him go, then turned my gaze to Cassian once Az was gone. His back was to me, so I couldn't read his expression, but his shoulders were tensed and he hadn't turned from the doorway Az had disappeared through.

"Okay..." I said, deciding to just move past it as I turned to the counter to start making myself a snack. "What about you, Cass, you got anything going on tonight?"

Cassian cleared his throat. "Me? Nope."

I heard him shifting in his chair behind me, and a moment later he was standing at my side. I prayed he couldn't hear my heart racing faster at his proximity as I tried to keep my focus on the fresh fruit in front of me.

"So, uh, you..." Cassian's wings rustled behind him, usually a sign of nerves. I frowned. "You come here often?"

I paused, setting the knife down and opting to slowly turn to face Cassian, one eyebrow raised. He fidgeted as he stared back at me, and I caught him forcing a grimace off his face in favor of a small smile. I'd never seen him look so nervous before.

"I... Cass, we both live here."

The grimace returned in full force, and I couldn't help smiling as Cassian brought a hand to his forehead.

"That's not what I meant to ask you," he said, shaking his head and meeting my eyes again. "What I meant was, uh... do you have a bandage?"

"A bandage? Did something happen? Did you get hit-"

"Dammit! No, I'm fine. Never mind, I need to go find Az-"

He started to push off the counter, but on a reflex, I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me, and my heart almost stopped in my chest at the intensity of his gaze.

I quickly pushed down the butterflies in my stomach to give Cassian a once-over. No matter what he said, he clearly was not fine. I didn't see any obvious physical injury, but a hard hit to the head would definitely explain some things, and when I met his eyes again he had a weird look in them.

"Cassian, are you sure you're okay? What's going on?"

He took a deep breath and then hesitated, his eyes darting over my face and his brow furrowed. Then, he sighed, his face and shoulders relaxing with him.

"I'm sorry, I just... I was trying to ask you out." My eyebrows shot up, but Cassian continued before I could muster a coherent response. "I've been wanting to do it for a while now, but I lost a bet to Az last week and my 'punishment' that I finally had to go through with it. I've been trying to figure out the best way to do it, but... I guess that wasn't it."

Cassian huffed a little laugh at himself, his expression drooping as he stared at the ground. I just blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to process everything he'd just told me.

"Hold on... you're asking me out because you lost a bet to Az?"

"Not just for that," Cassian assured me quickly, looking worried. "Or, I guess, if you're not into it, then maybe yes?"

I just laughed, which didn't seem to make him feel better. I felt guilty, but I also just couldn't help it. My heart leapt as I put a hand on Cassian's shoulder and his eyes snapped to mine again.

"Cass... I barely escaped that exact same bet with Mor last week."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing a little. I couldn't quite help it. Cassian apparently felt the same way about me as I did about him, as evidenced by our friends' ridiculous tactics. My heart soared, and I stepped a little closer to him. "I cheated a little to get out of losing, but she's been pressuring me to ask you out somewhere anyway for the last week and a half."

"Because... you like me?"

"Yeah. A lot."

The frown finally lifted from his face, replaced with a beaming grin that made my heart race. Slowly, he moved one arm to wrap around my waist, pulling me a little closer to him. I let one hand rest against his chest, and Cassian's lopsided smirk almost made me faint.

"Our friends are going to be rubbing this in for a long time, but I can't make myself care," he said, voice low. I bit my lip and smiled up at him.

"Same. Especially since I think they're all out of the house right now on a fake assignment for Rhys."

"That's definitely a perk of all their bullshit."

"So... what now?"

Cassian's eyes flashed as he leaned forward, pulling me flush against his chest. He dropped his mouth towards mine until they were barely inches apart, then met my eyes. Based on his grin, I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

"I have a few ideas," he breathed.

A heartbeat later, his lips were on mine, and fireworks exploded in my chest. Being with Cassian like this just felt right, and now that we were finally together, I never wanted to let him go.

I wasn't sure who initiated it, but we deepened the kiss as Cassian's grip tightened on my waist. I let my hands wander over his chest, to his shoulders and arms, but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a disgusted scoff from behind me.

Cassian and I broke apart, arms still around each other, and turned towards the door to find our friends standing there, staring at us with their hands on their hips.

"Well, I guess this is what we wanted," said Mor with a shrug.

"Pretty sure I told him to ask her out, not make out with her in the kitchen," Az chimed in from beside her. Rhys and Feyre just grinned at us, while Amren stared, clearly unimpressed.

"Do you all mind?" Cassian ground out, his hands tightening a little more around my waist. Mor just grinned and skipped into the kitchen completely undisturbed, heading for my unfinished fruit platter.

"Not at all," she said. Cassian sighed, but I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Our friends were absolutely ridiculous, but I loved them dearly. And Cassian and I had just made out in the kitchen, so I really don't think much in this world could've ruined my mood.

"Why don't the two of you go see a show or something?" Feyre suggested, following Mor into the kitchen, the other batboys following behind her. Cassian narrowed his eyes at his brothers, but I just smiled, at last stepping out of his grasp and taking his hand.

"That's a great idea, Feyre. Cass? What do you think?"

His expression softened the minute his gaze shifted to me. My heart melted.

"Sure. How about we go to Rita's after, too? Do some dancing?"

"Sounds like a plan. Just let me go get changed."

"I'll meet you back down here."

We shared a smile, and I leaned up to give Cassian one last quick kiss before turning on my heel to go get ready. Rhys and Az both smiled at me as I left the room, and I shot them a wink as I left. I would've preferred it if they'd all given Cassian and I our space tonight, but at the end of the day, we wouldn't have admitted our feelings for each other without our nosy, pushy friends. So I couldn't exactly stay mad at them, at least not this time.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[utilitycaster]

I’ve long noticed and previously commented on the odd fandom antipathy towards characters like Suvi of Worlds Beyond Number and Jonas Spahr from Midst; and simultaneously a far, far more generous approach to outright villains like Will Gallows, many of the witches, and Moc Weepe.

I’ve also commented on the favor and endless forgiveness shown villains before, and to get it out of the way, yes, a lot of this is due to horny reasons, and as someone who does not identify personally as a monsterfucker this might be part of my lack of interest. But I think it would be unwise to chalk this up entirely to people wanting to fuck the villains, and given that Suvi and Jonas are both extremely attractive as well it’s certainly not the whole picture.

Suvi and Jonas are born into and achieve positions of privilege - military/political no less - in imperial societies. They are both explicitly indoctrinated. They are not, in my opinion, brainwashed; but they are driven into who they become through competition.

I think a lot of people are really uncomfortable with characters shown to be complicit in and favored within this kind of society. I think Spahr and Suvi occupy a space that they find too close to home; too close to what they themselves are. A villain validates one’s beliefs: Weepe is ruthlessly self-interested, driven by profit, and terribly violent, and so it’s easier to be comfortable with him, ironically enough, because the story tells you he’s a bastard and you can feel good about clocking him as a bastard, and even like that this character is on a meta level telling you that you’re right in your beliefs.

Suvi and Jonas and those like them don’t permit you that validation. They participate in these harmful systems while believing it to be the right thing to do. They are also young people who grew up knowing little else, with unfathomably high expectations placed upon them. They are flawed, with no shortage of harsh edges, but they are also frequently kind and generous people who are incredibly important, as they currently are, to characters one might find more sympathetic. They are deeply human. And they are both the beneficiaries and the victims of a vast and complicated system. You cannot fit them into the box of a “stripped of choice” victim even though both have found themselves backed against a wall by their respective societies. You cannot avoid that the dissolution of their society would have devastating consequences, even if it might be right (which Midst directly explores; I suspect the Citadel might not be a thing to be dissolved). And while many people do so, one cannot in good faith and intelligent analysis treat them as nothing more than a shipping doll who needs to be programmed to become a mirror of the “correct” character of one’s choosing without ignoring who they are and what they bring to the table: a political savvy, a great deal of talent and intelligence, and a desire to embody the best parts of their respective flawed societies.

As Midst reaches its denouement, one of the core messages is that a harmful society is still one comprised of people: some upholding it, some actively furthering it, and some just living within it. While Worlds Beyond Number is nowhere near its end, Brennan Lee Mulligan’s body of work upholds a similar message; that one cannot lose sight of the personhood of people, even those involved in messy and damaging systems, and that people must be judged with that in mind. Suvi and Spahr are not cogs to be wrenched free and corrected, but characters to appreciate in their complexity. It is a shame that so many reject them in favor of those who consistently choose to do harm because it is less difficult and challenging to think in terms of Good Guy/Bad Guy.

[roguephenon]

II: The Thing That Will Always Be

"...Knowing this was the outcome, would you have still done the same?"

"In a New York minute." (Chapter cover is by @pinkmeanschaos. Check them out; they have fantastic work.)

The beginning of the end lies under the cut.

This would be the part where I post a tease of the chapter, followed by a link to said chapter.

Let's switch it up this time.

You've all given me so much love and encouragement, and I appreciate and cherish it all. Thank you so, so much.

But I'm not the only fanfic writer for this fandom. There are so many others who deserve love too. Some come to mind.

Like...

@geekinclara just recently started a KND fic, "Those Were The Days". It looks to be their take on Rachel's days as Supreme Leader and maybe even beyond that. It's off to a fantastic start. I've occasionally seen their posts about how much prep they've been doing for it (did you know making a cohesive timeline for this show is hard? Because it truly is), so it could do with some love, non?

And then there's @spicedwatermel0n and his KND fic, "The Rebellion," a GKND AU with 15 chapters already. It explores darker themes (which he's gone through the effort of listing before it starts to prepare his audience; he cares!) while weaving a narrative of the cast trying to fight an oppressive GKND regime. In space. Which is dope. He even has his own art of his designs. I hear he loves people asking about his AU and headcanons on his side blog when he has time to answer.

Nowadays, I write stories and create art for myself first and foremost, and I believe that should be the ultimate goal. Learning to love and take pride in your work should compel your drive to tell stories!

But comments matter, too. Feedback and engagement are rarely ever not a boost. I read every review left and respond to what I can when I have spoons, and it's an amazing feeling.

So, this is just me saying, "Help them feel amazing, too!" And not just these two, but all fanfic writers! If you see a fic you like, leave a quick sentence of your favorite moment!

Even if it has no traction, you'll just be their first!

Even if it has yet to be updated in 14 years, maybe there's a chance they'll come back one day!

Just something that came to mind to me today! And, of course, everyone has boundaries and things they like and dislike. Be respectful of those, too! Seriously. I've had to learn lessons the hard way, and I hope you don't have to have as harsh of an experience.

Thanks for listening to me yap!

Here's the link to Cold Reception's penultimate chapter for your trouble.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ scenarios | dating negan

♡ fandoms; The Walking Dead

♡ characters; Negan Smith

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; in case anyone forgot i’m technically not a dedicated slasher blog

i put this in sections so i didn’t have to make more than one post lol . also these take place while he’s still the ruler of the saviors. i’ve been obsessed since his first episode oh my god that’s eight years of hyperfixation so that’s usually where my brain goes plot- wise

i’m thinking Billy Butcher is up next? lmk who else we wanna see, Garcia Flynn from Timeless is probably too niche? but i love him so so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/PDA

> negan is an affectionate person

> with his wives it’s just for show- they’re hot, and he wants all his followers jealous of his lifestyle

> but with you, it’s different

> his wives don’t like him, per-se. he’s convenient to be married to and easy on the eyes, but they’re cold to him

> and he knows why, he doesn’t really give a shit. especially now that he has you.

> you may not be his spouse- you’re sure as fuck not letting him call you that without a ring- but he’s even more physical with you

> standing by him? hand on your back. sitting? you’re on his lap. look cold? he gives you his jacket and keeps you tucked under his arm

> “i just like takin’ care of you darlin’”

> and he loves kissing you in front of others- from little pecks to long, lingering kisses that makes other people look away

> he seems possessive, and he doesn’t mind people pointing it out

> it’s not that he doesn’t trust you- it’s never that

> he trusts most of his men too…maybe not simon. because simon loves staring at your ass

> but he’s proud. he’s proud you’re his, and he’s yours, and that he gets to show you off

> and like hell he ever lets anyone forget it

> alone he acts like keeping his hands off you is impossible

> he smacks your ass any time you lean over, pulls you into big bear hugs from behind and randomly pick you up

> he doesn’t ever want you to doubt his feelings for you, and physically is the easiest way for him to show it

> he’s very sexual, big shocker

> but his favorite kisses are sleepy kisses

> you wait late into the night when he’s due home from terrorizing his territories

> some part of you is afraid one day he won’t come home- so you always wait

> you’ll be exhausted, rubbing your eyes and yawning and usually wrapped up in a blanket

> but no matter how long he takes directing his men and double checking inventory and dealing with the dead

> “hey there, baby doll”

> you always run straight into his arms and bury your face in his chest. he’ll laugh and pick you up, kissing you gently before he carries you to bed

> most times he falls asleep on top of the covers with you, eager for the morning when he can make it up to you for being gone so long

II. Sharing a bed

> negan isn’t used to sharing a bed anymore

> the wives have their own rooms just down the hall, and so do you

> no reason for him not to give you at least a little space

> and having a room is the height of luxury in the sanctuary anyways. it’s a perk of dating the boss

> but you don’t know how to tell him you do want to share a bed, even though you’re barely apart when you’re awake

> so you just…don’t. you assume it’s a boundary he wants to keep and don’t mention it

> until the night terrors start up again

> you’ve seen a lot of people die a lot of different ways. most of them people you cared a lot about

> the memories always seem to come back in your dreams no matter how far back you push them

> when you’re woken up by one in the middle of a harsh storm, it’s just a bit too much

> you just can’t stop crying, and it’s loud and you need held. you need him.

> you creep as quietly as you can down the hall, and you hesitate at the door until the thunder crashes again

> when you stumble in he sits up fast with a knife in his fist

> then he gives a slightly annoyed sigh in recognition, relaxing

> “the hell are you doing?”

> “i just- um-“

> you can tell he notices the wobble in your voice and opens his arms up without another smart remark

> “hey, hey, i’ve gotcha..”

> he doesn’t ask questions- you don’t cry for nothing. and he gets nightmares too

> falling asleep in his arms feels natural…so natural it becomes a habit

> and he sleeps better with you too, curled around you and holding you so tight you think he might be worried you’ll disappear

> it’s less than a week before you stop using your bed altogether

III. Let’s get kinky

> he’s happy in pretty much any dominant role, whatever you call him is good enough for him- daddy, sir, master, etc

> and he likes when you call him whatever it is in front of his men

> the only chance of getting your dick/strap in him is if he power bottoms. but 95 percent of the time? you’re receiving and it’s big

> he likes being risky. he’ll take you out to visit settlements just to have an excuse to stop and fuck you in the car

> or even in a house there, just a room over from his men and gagging you with his fingers so you don’t get caught

> not that he’ll care if they catch you anyways

> he has a nice big office- half of the reason he uses it is so he can have you on his lap as a cockwarmer while he reads or looks over inventory numbers

> the other half is so you can suck his dick under the desk while he talks to simon or dwight

> (simon is a raging pervert so he definitely knows, too)

> he loves fucking your face, watching you get all teary eyed and drooling all over yourself from taking his massive cock

> “oh look at the fuckin’ mess you’re making!”

> he’s generous though- he loves reciprocating oral

> and he loves overstimulating you too- whether that’s by edging you for hours or just making you cum again and again and again

> he loves taking you from behind, pushing your face into the mattress and gripping your hips so hard they bruise

> but he also loves when you ride him slow, gasping quietly as he watches you fall apart completely for him

[hannya-writes]

To love some one who can kill you

Fandom: Boku no hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Other characters: None

Category: Thoughs and Ideas, romance, very twisted romance

Warnings: Suicide idealize, death theme. Do not read if you are susceptible

Author's note: Just found this in an old notebook, it is very short but I hope you like it!

Dabi isn't a soft and lovely lover. He is harsh and sometimes even cruel. His hands are always hot and greedy, his lips are demanding and controlling. They claim you with every mark he purposely leaves in your skin and you happily endure it.

You find pleasure in his rough and possessive touch, you find the love and desperation for you in his eyes. It's weird, to love some one who can kill you. He just has to want it and in a blink of his stunning eyes you will surrender your life to him.

His love is twisted and dangerous, and you know it. So, why don't you leave him? Why do you stay? Because you had never feel such a passionate and overpowering love. Because you want him to consume you.

Maybe you are as crazy as he is. Maybe opposites do attract, after all just like he can kill you, you can keep him alive. You can relive his dead skin, you can heal his tear conducts, you can give back every physical thing that makes him himself.

You could kill Dabi and revive Touya Todoroki and that was the thing Dabi feared the most. Yet, he stayed by your side.

Maybe you wanted to die, maybe he wanted to live. Maybe you liked that space in between both extremes. Half alive, Half dead.

[damnfandomproblems]

About 5796: Should I remind you that a 15 year old is the reason why a cancer patient who made NSFW artwork got ran off the Internet because said 15 year old spread lies and slander that the cancer patient amputated their leg for “fetish purposes” and falsely accused them of being a creep to the point where people doxxed them right down to the passwords to donation sites and they had to clear their whole Internet presence for the sake of their safety and then when the good natured people saw right through the 15 year old’s BS in the aftermath, the 15 year old ran?

Or that one time a fandom animator and artist who drew Warrior Cats and drew their selfsona who was the same age as them (she was 17 at the time she is now in her early 20’s) and shipped them with an older character. Minors as young as FOURTEEN at best interacted with or at worst, SENT NSFW artwork of feral and furry characters by the adults who were 18 and over made by the artist, all while calling the artist a zoophile and pedophile. Keep in mind that this is over NSFW artwork that the minors had ZERO business interacting with and adults sent PORN to minors.

Or the many times that minors repeatedly broke the rules when it came to 18+ spaces or “Minors DNI” labels in bios with entitlement and/or bargaining. There is a reason why most adults are harsh about this (even though they should not be acting harsh and mean they should be warning them and guiding them to spaces meant for minors), and it’s because minors are not just endangering themselves, they are endangering other minors. Plus, those adult antis that pretend to be the “good” adults? Yeah, there is a reason why people call antis predatory.

I should also remind you that teenagers can be cruel if they really, really want to. Aside from the first and second examples I gave, there is another serious one where a 14 year old girl was on Discord and interacted with an adult who was in her mid 20’s (she should know better at this point) and she was saying she was one of the “good adults” while sending NSFW ARTWORK of Cookie Run characters to said 14 year old and other minors in the Discord server. The mother became concerned after the 14 year old girl was sent to the principal’s office for harassing another girl in her class for shipping two Cookie Run characters and the mom saw her daughter’s Twitter activity and saw that she interacted with NSFW artwork despite being underage. Thankfully, she is getting the help she needs and has a therapist.

There are also underage antis just actively interacting with NSFW even with the 18+ label on the bio.

I would go on, but if I continue, this problem response would be just as long as most college essays, so I’m stopping here.

Minors, there is a reason why adults are excluding you from adult spaces and sometimes be harsh about it, because those spaces are meant for adults, and with every space and community, there is a creep or more lurking and waiting for ANY opportunity to hurt you. Now, the adults should be nicer about it and not be nasty and mean to you and just give warnings.

As a 26 year old adult, I am telling you this right now. There are adults that will label themselves as “the good adults” and if you see that, you need to run. A good adult would not be saying that they are “one of the good ones.” A true good adult would be making sure you’re safe and excluding you from adult spaces for good reason, because you’re an easy more vulnerable target. Yes, there are going to be minors with different levels of maturity, hell, I still act childish at 26 sometimes and I have a sibling who is 18 now and is much more mature than I am, but please, even if you can handle the adult content, please wait until you are 18+ to interact with NSFW spaces. It is for your own safety and decreases the risk of you getting groomed by a predator.

I already had to hear too many horror stories from the Warrior Cat fandom for instance of minors getting hurt and it became too much for me to keep seeing, so I just stopped actively looking for Warrior Cat Multi Animator Projects because chances are, at LEAST 5 of those animators will have skeletons in their closet and I would learn this the hard way by seeing a video exposing them as a creep. Same with the MLP fandom. Same with the furry community, and I left that community for that reason and the hypocrisy. I don’t want to keep hearing and seeing more of these stories piling up because minors are acting entitled to being in adult spaces even though possible creeps lurk in there and groom minors.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[tavyliasin]

A gift, from Tavylia and the Dear Abdirak fans who made this happen, and of course the star of the show himself~

Hello darlings, dear ones, and sinners all~ This cameo is our gift, for all of us who know pain a little too intimately. Written and joint funded by Abdirak fans and Lia, to provide some measure of comfort. Please, enjoy, know you are heard, you are loved, and you are never alone when enduring the most intense of Loviatar's affections. (And all my gratitude to Declan for making this so very swiftly right before going offline for his holiday)

--- The script, including content there was no space for, and some more notes from Lia, will follow after the cut~ This one is clean, no NSFW content, so feel free to proceed at your leisure. For those new here, please be aware that the majority of my content is around NSFW writing with a few art shares and essays on fandom things. Welcome, and I hope you enjoy your stay even if you're only here for this one video.

About The Script

Even with the additional payment, the maximum character limit in a request is 650. My original draft? 1117. We got out the knives, we cut it up, we boiled it down to the most pertinent line, and still had to defenestrate some of the punctuation. Far be it from me to ever know the meaning of brevity, loves, simply not in my extensive vocabulary. I also cannot thank Declan enough for the stunning performance, both in the game and in the cameo, and for giving us a character who we can relate to and adore in so many unexpected ways.

The Script We Sent

[greeting] Loviatar Maiden of Pain felt the echo of your pain singing through infinite realities. In her mercy, she has allowed us to speak. Agony is a cloak that you wear, armour you cannot remove, it is as bound to you as the guilt you feel for its very presence. I might envy you, but you did not choose this path. Your penitence is unnecessary. Let go, dear one, do not punish yourself further. The ebb and flow of exquisite torment, the rise & fall of the tides, you need not try so hard to swim. Breathe. Whether it is of the flesh or mind, your devotions have been heard. [reminder to share burdens/rely on each other/not alone/anything else]

The Original Draft Script

Greetings, Dear Ones, beloved of Loviatar - perhaps too beloved, in your case… Your pain sang through the fabric of the planes of infinite realities, catching and pulling at the Weave like a loose thread. My Goddess, the Maiden of Pain, she felt your echo through her web. Through her mercy, she has allowed me to speak with you. Agony is a cloak that you wear, an armour you cannot remove, it is as bound to you as the guilt you feel for its very presence. I might envy you…but you did not choose this path. Your penitence is not necessary. Let it go, dear one, do not punish yourself further. The ebb and flow of exquisite torment, the rise and fall of the tides, you need not try so hard to swim through them all. Breathe, keep your head above the water. Whether it is of the flesh or of the mind, your devotions have been heard by our most beloved Maiden of Pain. You endure it well, and you are not alone. There are other voices that sing her melody, listen for them, share your burdens and know you are all very dearly loved by the most gracious Loviatar. Even if her affections are a little excessive…

Lia's Notes And Thanks

First of all, a HUGE thank you to the dear ones who helped this happen, with encouragement, editing advice, and throwing some pennies in the pot to cover the cost I couldn't do alone. I shan't name names but you are already well aware of the endless affection I hold for you all. For everyone else, I really do hope this brings you some measure of comfort. It's important to recognise how much we tend to give of ourselves even when we suffer most, and how harsh we can be towards ourselves too.

You are not a burden, having needs is normal and natural, the people who matter most should be there to support you just as you would wish to be there to support them were your roles reversed.

We can rely on each other to a degree, even if it is just to listen, to say "I understand, it's alright to feel all of the things you are feeling. You do not have to be strong, you do not have to wear that mask of endurance with me." So do let go of that guilt, dear one, it does not serve you. If you would like to read more of a discussion on chronic pain, Abdirak, fandom, please see the main essay on the topic (click here) though be aware there is discussion of the more spicy topic of how pleasure and pain can be entwined, even for those of us who feel too much pain in our every day.

Tavylia's Offer

I'm going to round this one off with a simple offer to you all. Should you wish for words of comfort from a beloved character (probably BG3 but if I know the character well enough I can try others), send them to my ask box, or on Discord/Twitter/Anything on my Carrd. This is what I have worked on before, mostly SFW (only some light suggestive moments) as the focus is on comfort to the reader.

Abdirak - Migraine Comfort Yurgir - Migraine Comfort Tav - General Comfort, with Audio Multi-Character Comfort Drabbles (Including Abdirak)

If my little words can bring you any measure of comfort or relief, you need only ask.

Farewell for now, Dear Ones, darlings, loves, Pain Pals, - all of you. Please take care of yourselves - hydrate, nourish, and for the sake of the gods please allow yourself some rest and be kind to yourself for a change. And I do mean all of you. No exceptions, now. Love yourself with grace and forgiveness, care for yourself as if you were the most precious friend you have ever made. I hope to see you all very soon~

May Loviatar's blessings be more merciful. ~ Lia

[venus-giirl]

"A enemies to lovers"

Gyutaro Shabana x fem reader.

Fandom: Demon Salyer.

Word count: +1.8K

Rating: fighting, insults, fluff, anguish, enemies, harsh words.

N/A: I'm back, bitches. This last month I've been with final exams and couldn't find motivation to write. So last night I sat down and decided to write an enemies to lovers with Gyutaro, since I saw that the last post had been well liked. Enjoy reading, sorry for the hurtful words, but in this story the two of them hate each other… or not.

THE BOY IS A MONSTEERRRR

The room was dark. School supplies were cluttered all over the space, which was already cramped. Balls, tennis racquets, strings, mats, etc. Everything smelled like gym equipment, covered with the typical layer of dust that was hardly cleaned unless the equipment was being used.

Both of your breaths were labored, breathing hard due to the little air left inside along with the dense layer of dirt. You were angry at the stupid situation you were in.

"You shouldn't have come, it was me who was tasked to go get the mats." he growls in a serious tone, almost sounding like a dog facing his opponent.

"I've already told you a thousand times, he sent me to help you too, the mats are heavy…". you retort.

"I don't need your help, I am much stronger than you".

"You're an idiot if you think a woman can't fend for herself, Gyutaro."

"The idiot is you if you thought you were going to help me with those weak arms." His breath hits your face. It wasn't unpleasant to you, despite his hideous appearance. It smelled like a mixture of mint and body odor.

You shake your head shaking your thoughts away. My goodness, you disliked him for over two grades. He was so cruel and mean to the other students and envious through and through. He was always complaining about those who were better than him, especially in sports.

"Oh my god, you're unbearable, you know that?". You don't know what to respond and the only thing you can think to do is try to vent your anger by making him feel bad. Even though that really wasn't what you wanted, but you couldn't help it.

"Unbearable is your stupid voice and to top it off the door was locked with the keys out because of you, you clumsy girl." He had snuggled closer to you. Although the room wasn't very well lit, because the light wasn't working either, you could see his face with the small solar halo coming in through the small square window located above the wall where Gyutaro was.

His hands had reached your arms to shake you helplessly for the situation. You wince as he digs his fingers in that it almost hurts and you let out a whimper, trying to pull away from him.

"Let go of me, you brute." You fight back, trying to wiggle out of his grip. "I hadn't even seen the keys." When you had entered the materials room you didn't notice that the keys were in the lock, so you assumed that the trainer had already opened the door and that he had them hanging around his neck, as usual.

"Oh, of course. Because the girl is so dumb that even at that she's not able to figure it out." His comments were starting to hurt and tears were beginning to sting the edges of your eyes. You were not going to allow yourself to sink with his hurtful words. If he could insult you with no regard for your feelings, of course you would too. You hated him.

"You are inconsiderate, sarcastic and unbearable." You scream and press the palm of your hands on his hard chest to push him away from your body. "If you were in a different mood maybe we'd be out of here by now." You press your nails into his shirt and manage to rip a button off. He grunts and squeezes you tighter in his grip. Your arms hurt too much. It might even leave a mark on you.

"I didn't need your help!" He yells and shakes you.

"Fuck, Gyutaro, this isn't about help!".

"Then why do you always show up everywhere I go?". His question left you unsettled, blank. In fact, you also had the same feeling of running into him, in the hallways, at the lockers, when sometimes you were late because you overslept, in fights you were always around or even when he was expelled from class for confronting some teacher, you would show up by the punishment room to put some papers.

"What… What? For God's sake, I'm the deputy. It's normal for me to be doing… delegate stuff." You weren't crazy and you weren't chasing him, it's just a coincidence. right?

He laughs in a low, vile tone, not believing anything you say. "And it's also a coincidence that we're here right now?".

Your cheeks were starting to heat up from anger. "Honestly, I'd rather die than be locked in the same room as you." You spit out in a stern tone.

Gyutaro responds with a laugh too unpleasant for you "Dare to say that again and again and I'll break you". The glint of malice could be seen in his gaze. His teeth chattered with every word and his jaw tensed, you almost thought he might snap his teeth from the strain. His grip and his voice were harder and harder.

"Fuck you." You grab his shirt and try to shake him too.

"Oh, I'm flattered, but no thanks." You take a few steps forward and out of sense take a few steps back. You don't want him to touch you. You can't stand it. His touch feels rough and horrid to you. Cold and hard. Painful and… Fuck, stop thinking about it.

"I hate you, I hate you. I can't stand you and you think I'd be after you? Jesus Christ, you wouldn't believe that yourself. From the moment I saw you I couldn't stand you." Gyutaro is silent for a few moments, seconds in which a silent emptiness takes over the room, which, seconds before, had been filled with screams and voices, insults and confessions too painful and cruel to be able to say them to another person.

Seconds in which your body is pushed forcefully backwards. The air leaves your lungs abruptly and gravity takes hold of your body pulling you down. Your back crashes heavily against the mattresses and you feel a large, angry body looming over you. The vibes shook your skin and it bristled at the numerous sensations you were experiencing, fear, terror… But you were not going to show weakness before him. No way, he couldn't see you crying or in a vulnerable state.

Your breaths were agitated, loaded with words that wanted to leave your mouths to hurt again. Hands and legs move, squeeze, and you try to pull away. You sit up, but he places his palm on your chest and sinks you back down to the mattresses. You claw at his arms and groan, trying to overcome his enormous strength. He grunts gutturally and tries to grab your hands again. When he finally succeeds, he spreads your legs apart with his knees and stands over you, his bony pelvis now between your thighs, preventing you from closing your legs or kicking him. You gasp and grunt, arch your back, but nothing, you can't free yourself from him. From his prison. God…you were almost sure you'd never get out of there.

"I hate you you know." Desperate you attack him again with the only thing you have left.

"I know." He replies in a dry tone and smiles showing his menacing teeth.

"I hate your smile."

"I know." He repeats. His face moves closer to yours. Her hair, always messy, now falls around your face, forming a curtain between the two of you.

"And your face, you're so…you're so obnoxious." Your nose brushes against his, his breath hits your mouth and cheeks. If you could sink even deeper into the mattress you would have made it by now.

His weight on your body burned you more and more. "And I can't…I can't….". Your eyes widen as you feel his lips rest on yours. You don't know it at the time, as the darkness prevented you from seeing, but his eyes looked into yours with a glow…an unexplainable glow. His dry, chapped lips encircled yours in a chaste kiss.

Your breath catches and you let out a soft sigh, half-opening your lips. Gyutaro pulls away just an unbearable millimeter and you already feel the cold from the absence of warmth. In an uncontrollable impulse you sit up and kiss him back. You suck in a breath of air and crash your lips against his. Gyutaro grunts in an attempt to control himself and crushes you back against the mat without separating from you, without breaking the kiss again. His mouth opens and he sticks out his tongue to open your wet lips which you open, inviting him in. Your tongues meet, slippery with saliva. Oxygen is depleted as your kiss becomes more intense. Now it has become a war to see which tongue can dominate the other. Your mouths open in a kiss. His breath caresses your right cheek and you tilt your head so you can get more of him.

His hand held the back of your neck. Since when did his hand hold the back of your neck? His thick, calloused fingers curl and pull at it. Your body arches and his body hovers more over you, the mats supporting the weight of both of you. Gyutaro grunts and begins to eat from your mouth as if it were the last meal on earth. You follow his rhythm and you both create a dance, in which your mouths devour each other with anger, rage, hatred and uncontrolled passion. His teeth sting and graze your lower lip. From time to time he gently bites your tongue and curses, in words that crash over your lips, incomprehensible confessions.

You feel and hear Gyutaro's nails digging into the mat and breaking it as he clenches his fists. Your hands now embrace his neck and you pull at his hair, causing him to growl. At an indeterminate point, you become dizzy and can almost feel his pelvis shift between your thighs, searching for something to relieve himself with.

However, the crazy magic of that crazy kiss is interrupted by the jingling of keys and a male voice shouting, "Is someone inside, the door is locked, hello!". Everything falls apart when Gyutaro abruptly pulls away from your body and growls. His weight, his touch, his breathing, his hands…everything is now cold to you. Your mind gradually comes to its senses and you awaken your mind cold again, assessing the matter. You are still there, lying on the mats, trying to calm your breathing and organize the bomb of events in your head.

"Shit…" Gyutaro curses and turns his back on you. Before he leaves he gives you one last look showing his teeth and walks away, leaving his scent, his trail. You hear the professor hurling questions at Gyutaro who ignores him completely, until you stop hearing his footsteps. Your hands rise by inertia to your red, swollen lips and you again hear footsteps running into the material shed.

"T/n, are you okay?" Mitsuri's soft voice sounds concerned, but you don't manage to hear it. Not after what's happened.

"I… I hate him…". You whisper still feeling the trail of Gyutaro's kiss on your mouth.

[zapreportsblog]

↳ strong woman ↲

✭ pairing : arthur shelby x reader

✭ fandom : peaks blinders

✭ summary : arthur shelby finds himself a good woman, she’s got her own job and her family adores him, and she can hold her own. What more can a man ask for ?!

✭ authors note : oh wow this is my first peaky blinders fic. I’ll make a masterlist for this too at some point if it becomes a hit or if requests for them begin flowing in but for now sit back and enjoy the show :)

✭ peaky blinders masterlist

The air inside The Rusty Nail was thick with the pungent aroma of stale beer and the raucous symphony of clinking glasses and hearty laughter. Dimly lit by the feeble glow of flickering bulbs, the bar seemed like a haven for those seeking refuge from the hardships of life. Amidst the haze of cigarette smoke, Arthur Shelby sat perched atop a barstool, nursing his umpteenth drink of the night.

The creak of the wooden floorboards signaled the entrance of a group of rowdy patrons, their faces flushed from a combination of liquor and bravado. As Arthur took a casual sip from his glass, his eyes locked onto a man with a sneer that suggested trouble. The tension in the air grew palpable as harsh words were exchanged, and before anyone could react, the first punch was thrown.

The bar fight erupted like a storm, tables overturned and chairs clattering to the floor. Fists flew and curses echoed in the confined space, drowning out the hum of conversations. Arthur, never one to back down, found himself amidst the chaos. The clang of punches landing and the grunts of pain melded together in a discordant rhythm.

Arthur's instincts kicked in, his senses honed by years of living on the edge. He bobbed and weaved, delivering calculated blows that found their mark. A swing and a swift jab sent his adversary stumbling backward, crashing into a table and knocking over a tower of glasses. The crowd roared with approval as Arthur stood victorious, his chest heaving and his knuckles smeared with blood.

As the dust settled and the brawl subsided, Arthur's adrenaline-fueled courage began to wane, replaced by the effects of the alcohol he had consumed earlier. His steps grew unsteady, and he stumbled towards the exit. The world outside was a blur of shapes and colors, and he leaned against the doorframe for support, struggling to maintain his balance.

Suddenly, a warm voice cut through the haze, like a lighthouse guiding him through the fog. "Are you alright, son?" a kindly older gentleman inquired, concern etched into his features. Arthur's words slurred as he attempted to respond, a mixture of incoherent mumbles and drunken laughter.

The older man's eyes twinkled with understanding, and he gently placed a steadying hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You've had a bit too much, I reckon. How about I take you back to my home? You can rest up until morning."

Arthur nodded, his gratitude evident despite his intoxicated state. With the stranger's support, he navigated the uneven pavement and stumbled into the night, leaving behind the tumultuous scene of the bar. As they walked, the city lights flickered like stars in the sky, and Arthur felt an odd sense of camaraderie with the man who had extended his helping hand.

Guided by the older man's steady arm, Arthur stumbled along the sidewalk, his world swirling in a haze of alcohol and exhaustion. The crisp night air cut through his stupor, offering a faint semblance of clarity. Finally, they arrived at a modest home, its windows glowing with warm light against the darkness.

As they stepped through the door, a woman's voice called out from the living room. "Darling, dinner's gone cold. You know how forgetful I am with the oven timer." The older man led Arthur forward, and the woman's gaze shifted from the untouched dinner to Arthur's disheveled state. "Oh my," she exclaimed, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in surprise.

Her voice carried through the house, and before long, the soft patter of footsteps echoed down the stairs. A young woman, her hair tousled and eyes bleary from sleep, appeared in the doorway. "What's going on, Mom?" she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

The older man offered a reassuring smile to his wife before turning his attention to their unexpected guest. "This young man needs a bit of help. Looks like he had a bit too much to drink."

The young woman, (Y/N), stepped forward with a mix of sympathy and determination in her eyes. She wore a simple nightgown, her presence both soothing and vibrant against the backdrop of the late hour. "Let's get him settled," she said, her voice calm and soothing. Together, the three of them carefully maneuvered Arthur towards a spare room at the end of the hallway.

With gentle hands and steady guidance, they eased Arthur onto the bed. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm ambiance. Arthur's eyes struggled to focus, but the kindness in (Y/N)'s eyes was unmistakable.

"He'll be fine in here," the older man said, his voice laden with concern. "Rest up, young man. We'll make sure you're alright come morning."

As Arthur settled into the bed, his thoughts began to blur into incoherence. The world around him faded into the periphery as he succumbed to the pull of sleep. Through the fog of his drowsiness, he faintly heard the rustling of blankets and the hushed murmurs of (Y/N) and her parents as they ensured his comfort.

And so, in a stranger's home, Arthur Shelby found a refuge from the tumult of the night.

The morning sun painted the room in a warm glow as Arthur Shelby stirred awake. He blinked against the light, slowly piecing together his surroundings. Memories of the previous night trickled back, and he realized he was in a stranger's home. Pushing himself up from the bed, he rubbed his temples, the remnants of a headache still lingering.

As he made his way downstairs, the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air. The scene that greeted him was a picture of domestic tranquility. The older man stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand, while his wife set the table with a collection of mismatched plates and silverware.

"Morning," Arthur croaked, his voice rough from the previous night's revelry. The older man turned, a welcoming smile on his lips.

"Morning, son," he replied. "Slept alright?"

"Much better than I deserved," Arthur admitted, gratitude evident in his eyes.

The older man chuckled. "No need to worry about that. My name's Robert, by the way. And this is my wife, Eleanor." The woman offered a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Arthur," he replied, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his mind. Would they recognize the name? He was, after all, a Shelby, a name that carried weight in certain circles.

Eleanor chimed in, her voice friendly. "Nice to meet you, Arthur. Our daughter, (Y/N), helped us get you settled last night." At the mention of her name, (Y/N) entered the room, her presence as radiant as the morning sun.

"Morning again," she said with a soft smile. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Better than expected," Arthur replied, his gaze briefly meeting (Y/N)'s before he looked away, hiding a hint of surprise that his name didn't elicit any recognition.

As they gathered around the table, the conversation flowed effortlessly, like old friends catching up. They spoke of simple things—weather, life in the city, and shared anecdotes. Arthur found himself easing into the rhythm of their chatter, his guard lowering with each passing moment.

The breakfast table became a temporary haven, a place where a man known for his hard exterior found himself welcomed without judgment or suspicion. And as the meal drew to a close, Robert extended an invitation that warmed Arthur's heart.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need, Arthur," Robert said, his words genuine. "We're glad to have you."

Arthur's gratitude was palpable as he nodded. "Thank you, Robert. I appreciate it."

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Arthur realized that sometimes, even in the most unexpected places, people could surprise you with their kindness. He had stumbled into this family's life under unlikely circumstances, and in doing so, had found a haven of acceptance that he hadn't anticipated.

Weeks turned into months, and Arthur Shelby found himself drawn to the haven of warmth and comfort that was Robert's home. Whenever he wasn't immersed in the world of the Peaky Blinders, he sought solace in the company of the kind-hearted family. The days he spent there became a reprieve from the relentless demands of his other life.

His family began to notice his frequent absences, and questions began to arise. "Where are you off to, Arthur?" Tommy asked one evening as they sat in their dimly lit headquarters.

Arthur shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Just passing time, Tommy. Nothin' special."

Tommy cast a scrutinizing look his way, his eyes narrowing. "Passing time, huh? You've been disappearing quite a bit lately."

Arthur's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. "Like I said, Tommy, just keepin' busy."

Tommy's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the task at hand, leaving Arthur with a sense of relief mingled with apprehension.

One day, as the sun cast dappled shadows through the trees, Arthur found himself wandering towards the small business that Robert's family owned. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air, and the sight of (Y/N) and her mother working side by side in the kitchen brought a soft smile to his lips.

Seeing him, (Y/N) grinned and wiped her hands on her apron. "Arthur, you're just in time. We could use an extra pair of hands today."

Without hesitation, he rolled up his sleeves and joined them in their culinary pursuits. The rhythmic kneading of dough, the careful measuring of ingredients, and the banter that flowed between them made the hours fly by. Arthur discovered a surprising talent for baking, finding satisfaction in creating something with his hands that brought joy to others.

As they worked, (Y/N) and her mother shared stories of their business and their hopes for the future. They spoke of dreams and aspirations, of simple pleasures and the bonds that held their family together. Arthur found himself opening up as well, sharing fragments of his own life that he had rarely revealed to anyone.

Days turned into weeks, and the bakery became a haven where Arthur's burdens seemed to lessen. The simple act of kneading dough and watching pastries rise in the oven brought a sense of accomplishment that was different from the violence and power struggles of his other life.

As Arthur walked back to his own world, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He had found solace and acceptance with Robert's family, a stark contrast to the life he led with the Shelby gang. The bakery had become more than just a place to escape—it was a reminder that there was goodness in the world, and that he could be a part of it, even if only for a few stolen moments.

As the days turned into weeks, Arthur found himself captivated by (Y/N)'s genuine sweetness and the way her eyes lit up with kindness. He admired her for her resilience, her ability to see the good in people even in a world that often seemed so harsh. He couldn't help but notice the gentle curve of her smile and the way her laughter seemed to chase away the shadows.

Summoning his courage, Arthur decided to take a step forward. He approached Robert and Eleanor one evening, his heart pounding as he broached the subject. "I was wondering if it would be alright if I took (Y/N) out for a date," he began, his voice steady but tinged with nervousness. "I know there's an age difference, but I respect her and I promise to treat her right."

Robert exchanged a look with his wife, a twinkle in his eyes. Eleanor smiled warmly. "We couldn't be happier, Arthur. You've shown us your good heart, and we trust you."

Arthur's relief was palpable, and he offered a genuine smile in return. "Thank you."

On the night of their date, Arthur arrived at (Y/N)'s doorstep, his heart racing as he knocked on the door. She opened it, a hint of surprise dancing in her eyes. "Arthur? Is everything alright?"

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out tonight. Maybe catch a movie and have dinner."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened for a moment before a warm smile spread across her lips. "I'd love to."

As they made their way to the town over, laughter and easy conversation flowed between them. The movie was entertaining, but what stuck with Arthur were stolen glances and the sense of comfort he felt in her presence.

After the movie, as they walked down the street, the atmosphere shifted. A group of rowdy men began catcalling (Y/N), their comments lewd and disrespectful. Before Arthur could react, (Y/N) had turned to face them, her stance unwavering.

"Is this how you think it's okay to treat women?" (Y/N)'s voice was firm, her eyes flashing with a fire that took Arthur by surprise. And then, in a sudden flurry of movement, her fists were flying, her punches landing with precision.

Arthur stood frozen, watching in awe as (Y/N) held her own, her punches landing with impressive force. By the time the confrontation ended, the men were nursing their injuries and retreating, chastened by the encounter.

Arthur's jaw hung open, his admiration for (Y/N) growing even stronger. She turned to him, her cheeks flushed and her expression fierce. "Sorry you had to see that, Arthur."

"Sorry?" Arthur managed, a mix of astonishment and awe in his voice. "That was... impressive."

(Y/N)'s fierce expression softened into a sheepish grin. "Well, thanks. I just can't stand that kind of behavior."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "I'll keep that in mind. Remind me never to cross you."

As they continued their evening, Arthur realized that his admiration for (Y/N) had only deepened. She was more than just sweet and kind; she was strong and unafraid, a force to be reckoned with. And as he walked her back to her doorstep, he couldn't help but think that he had found something truly special in her, something that had the potential to change his life in ways he hadn't expected.

[swashbucklery]

Out of curiosity why do you ship sabine and shin ?

Okay anon so I am trying to figure out how to approach this ask because I know that this fandom has a real problem with bad-faith actors looking to troll Wolfwren shippers and I do not have the patience to deal with that, but also I do want to talk about them because they're lovely.

So. If you are asking because you're a troll, the answer is that I'm a big mean lesbian who likes ruining Star Wars and gets off on making innocent fanboys cry, #sorrynotsorry, it's part of my Terrible Queer Ruining Agenda and I am going to be doing it every second Tuesday until society as you know it has crumbled into gay dust.

If you're not a troll: because they hit this very particular combination of Trope Buttons that makes me ever so happy, anon!

Because it's about - like, there are ships that I love because they are a type of loving partnership that entrances me, where I see myself or see the type of love that speaks to my soul and want to enjoy the process of rolling around in it like a cat in nip. Then there are ships that I love because I'm attached to a particular character where like - this blorbo deserves the world and that includes a healing love, a warm love, a love that cultivates a space for them to rest after the harsh world around them has bruised them ever so.

THEN there are ships where - the dynamic fascinates me and I want to dig deeper into it. Where it's not about cultivating love as much as it is taking what's on screen to its gayest and most extreme possible endpoint, and that's where Sabine/Shin really gets me.

It's about the deep obsession of nemeses and the way that can feel inherently queer. It's about the ways that they are both mirrors and opposites. The way that Sabine carries so much anger and self-loathing and shame and guilt in her little heart and constantly pretends that she doesn't. The way that limits her throughout the series is riveting to me.

It's the idea of Shin, who in may ways is a more successful Jedi but in other ways is a sad, lonely little weirdo who has no community except for this weird old man and pretends that she's fine with it but can't be.

The way that they are both successes and failures in ways that mirror each other, the way that they orbit each other as nemeses and fight constantly but in their darkest moments have a weird little glimmer of - not love, but the beginnings of compassion.

And I have seen lots of writers and artists who look at that glimmer and see it as the beginning of a 200k slowburn story where they bicker and argue and slowly tenderize each other into being people who can be vulnerable, who learn to soften their prickly edges to fit around each other. And that's wonderful, and that's a beautiful way to ship Sabine & Shin.

For me, it's more about digging into that weird, fucked up little place of what if they didn't. What if they stayed fucked up and didn't soften but those orbits got closer and closer together. What if it wasn't toweringly romantic what if the orbit was the path of a comet colliding with a moon. What if that was somehow what each of them needed even though they both hated needing it. What does it feel like to confront the fact that sometimes our desires and what we want our desires to be don't align? What would it be like to envelop that in the complex ten-dimensional web of denial that both of them embody; desiring but pretending not to desire, indulging but pretending not to indulge. How far could that go before it hit a crisis point? What would that crisis point be?

There are so many stories there and that's fascinating and a thing that I find fun to explore in fiction, anon. If that's not for you, that's totally alright but there might be other dimensions that I described above where they ping with your interests more.

Or, they might just not be for you, and that's also okay.