#i don't want this to show up in the main tags but I DEMAND that everyone in the selfship community looks at these two!!

[anoddopal]

✨🐇 NIMBOSTRATUS 🐇✨

Two of Bun-Bun Silva's [Insert/Sona] beloved pets!

General Info

There are those who assume they represent the “Bun-Bun” portion of Silva's name.

Both are a subspecies of Lapin [Lapahn], similar to those found on Drum island. Though these two in particular have far more lagomorph-like attributes than their arctic counterparts.

Technically omnivores; they mostly eat hay/vegetation but won’t turn their noses up at meat.

Their unique anatomy allows them to be both bipedal and quadruped; they can move about much faster when down on all fours.

While still classified as animals, they’re much smarter than most people anticipate. All communication they have with humans/humanoids can only be inferred [though Silva can speculate what they mean better than anyone]. However, they can speak directly with other animals, Zo.an Type De.vil Fruit users, and Tony To.ny Ch.opper!

Nimbus

Strongly resembles a Netherland Dwarf. [Stands at roughly 5’ on hind legs; not including ears!]

The oldest of the two, yet somehow he’s still referred to as the “Baby Brother”.

Prone to making the silliest of faces, usually in the form of scowls and grimaces. Silva jokes that he ate the “Frown Frown Fruit”, and that’s why he has such an adorably sour expression.

Is Stratus’ shadow, essentially. He follows her everywhere. It’s only on rare occasions that he leaves her side.

Like Stratus, he loves his ‘Mama’ very much, but he also tends to find Silva’s fussing embarrassing.

Is a bit of a menace, but he’s much more discreet about it when compared to his ‘big’ sister. No rope or nautical knot is safe from his teeth. The little guy can’t help but slice through the damn things…

Nimbus is very particular about the appearance of his loved ones, and will take it upon himself to groom them to perfection! Be warned- your eyebrows WILL be on fleek by the time he’s done with you!

Much more content to fade into the background. Doesn’t care to be in the spotlight, but he does love attention from certain individuals.

Overall a standoffish, suspicious little guy. But this means having his trust/favor is all the more impactful. Nimbus is loyal to his core.

A very good judge of character! …. For the most part…

Stratus

Strongly resembles a Rex. [Stands at roughly 6’ on hind legs; not including ears!]

The brains, muscle, and leader of this outfit.

Wears a mummified “lucky human’s foot” around her neck, it’s a twist on the belief some humans hold that a severed rabbit’s foot will bring them luck. Hey! She’s just evening the odds!

TOTAL MAMA’S GIRL. LUFFS HER MAMA SO MUCH!

A criminal. Has a bounty on her head that rivals that of many notorious pirates. Said bounty only continues to increase over time, with the most significant increase occurring when she successfully broke into Im.pel Down [assisting in the  catastrophe Mo.nkey D. Lu.ffy orchestrated that freed hundreds of prisoners or wait, was it Bu.ggy who cooked up THAT part of the scheme? Whatever- her true intent was to go after Sir Cro.codile regardless] and when she fought on Wh.iteb.eard’s side at Ma.rinef.ord [though her primary goal was to help protect her mama]. There is debate as to whether she’s sentient enough to warrant such a large amount of berries…?

Needs attention. DEMANDS attention! Positive attention? Yes!!!! Negative attention? YESSSS!!!!

Is capable of feats that are… unexplainable, or have no context beyond a simple explanation. Silva insists Stratus knows all the secrets to the universe. Hell, she probably somehow knows where the One Pi.ece IS. But will she ever tell anybody? LMAO, of COURSE not!

Probably has some form of Haki.

An agent of chaos, yet she’s also an entity that embodies comfort and love. For as much discord as she causes, she also brings great peace of mind. She’s an imperative regulator of Silva’s mental health. ESR: Emotional Support Rabbit.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

hi, is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons where Leona, vil and rook(separately) has a s/o who starts randomly wearing gloves and hiding their hands from them due to getting really bad contact dermatitis from their work and not really able to do anything about it work wise

COMMENTS: Coincidentally, I myself have problems with dermatitis on my hands. So, perhaps what I wrote comes a lot from my own experience. Especially the thing about using an ointment that worked once and for some reason no longer works. 😅 And having some trouble sleeping because of the itching.

I hope you and all enjoy it ❤️‍🩹

CHARACTERS: Leona Kingscholar / Vil Schoenheit / Rook Hunt

TAGS: Comfort; Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: An average of 610 words per character

Contact dermatitis is an itchy, inflamed rash that develops when your skin comes into contact with an irritant or allergen. There are two main types: Irritant contact dermatitis and Allergic contact dermatitis.

I decided to go with the first one since Irritant contact dermatitis is the most common type. It's caused by a substance that irritates the skin, such as soaps, detergents, solvents, or harsh chemicals.

CONTEXT: You got dermatitis after cleaning Ramshackle Dorm. It's not the first time, you already had it before, so you think you know how to treat it. Nobody needs to know. So you will take care of your hands at home and whenever you go out you will wear gloves to try to protect them. You'll be fine in no time... Right...?

Leona knew something was wrong the moment he saw you wearing gloves. Nobody starts wearing gloves out of nowhere just because. But he didn't need to ask anything because he saw you moving your hands as if those gloves were uncomfortable. And once or twice he saw you scratching your hands through your gloves and stopping immediately as if you had remembered that you shouldn't do it.

He wasn't going to get involved. At least not if it looked like you were getting better. But on the second day, you still itched. And on the third day, you had bigger dark circles than usual and the itching seemed the same or worse.

You had just returned to Ramshackle Dorm and the first thing you did was take off your gloves and run to the bathroom to treat your hands. Why didn't that get better? You were using the same ointment as last time.

“You should go to the infirmary.” Grim said “Hench-humans should take better care of themselves so they are always ready.” He teases you before showing actual concern. “You're not even sleeping well. I wake up to you scratching yourself every five minutes.”

You won't admit it, but he's right. You should go to the infirmary. Maybe tomorrow. That's what you're thinking when you hear someone knocking on the door. But you can't cover your hands now, the ointment is still working. So you open the door with one hand, using the door hide this one and place the other behind your back.

“Show me your hands.” Leona demands calmly. You look surprised and confused. “Show me your hands.” he reiterates, crossing his arms but still patient.

“Why?” you ask.

“Why are you hiding them?” he asks back. “If everything is normal, why don't you show me?” and smiles smugly.

I mean, he's right. Who opens the door with one hand behind their back. This is very suspicious. You hesitate, but end up stretching your arms in front of you to show your red hands and unhealthy skin.

But Leona isn’t surprised. He barely even reacts. As if you had just confirmed his suspicions. He takes off one of his own gloves and puts it in his pocket, holding one of your hands with his gloved hand while he runs the other carefully over your broken skin, to feel it. Does he know it's not contagious?

“The ointment isn't working, is it?” He sais. You had just put it in your hand, so he definitely felt the moist. He puts the glove back on. “Do you have your keys?”

You say they are on the entrance table.

“So grab them and let's go. Unless you want to be locked out of the dorm.”

“Let’s go where?”

“To the herbivores club party. To the infirmary. Where else? If you don't go there alone, someone has to take you. Don't tell me you forgot where it is?” he smiles smugly again. “And don't make me pick you up. You know I would.”

Vil saw your new gloves. Were you trying to change your style a little? No. That's not it. You were uncomfortable with those gloves. He knows about fashion, the same way he knows when a person is using a piece to hide some part of their body.

After classes you went back to Ramshackle Dorm, took off your gloves and applied the ointment. It had worked last time, but this time it didn't seem to be having any effect. You had just come out of the bathroom, with your hands smeared with pumice, when someone knocked on the door. Damn it.

You can't cover your hands now, so you open the door with one hand, using the door hide this one and place the other behind your back.

“Hello (Y/N)” Vil greets you. “I apologize for the sudden appearance, but can I come in to talk to you about something?”

You think for a second, you can keep hiding your hands behind your back, so you tell him he can come in. He enters and you close the door behind you, always hiding your hands.

“You've never used gloves before. It's not your style.” It didn't sound like he was criticizing you, like he tends to do with a lot of people. In fact, he sounded quite calm and neutral, almost understanding. “If there's one thing I know how to distinguish when someone starts using a new accessory, it's whether they're using it to try to improve their appearance or to hide themselves. And this second one tends to be a sensitive subject. That's why I thought it would be best to ask you in private. Did something happen to your hands? Are you injured?”

You tell him no, that you're not injured. Well, not exactly in that sense of the word at least. You end up telling him the truth about your skin and how it has reacted to cleansing products.

“Dermatitis? Let me see. I want to know how bad it is.” He now has that judgmental look on his eyes. Which makes you hesitate a little, but you are now also at the point of no return.

You take your hands from behind your back and show Vil your red hands and unhealthy skin, without being able to look him directly in the eyes.

“For the Great Seven! And you let your skin reach this point?” he scolds you. “When did this happen? Have you gone to the infirmary already?”

You say you went there the last time this happened and they gave you an ointment, which was what you were applying.

“And is it having any effect?” He asks. You say that, compared to last time, not really. “Then get ready to go to the infirmary.” He thinks for a second if you should protect your hands from the sun, which reminds him of the gloves he saw you wearing that day. “Let me see the gloves you were wearing.”

You go get the gloves and give them to him. He looks at you disapprovingly as soon as he picks them up.

“These cheap gloves? This material is horrendous! It's probably making your situation even worse.” He throws the gloves onto the entrance table. If there had been a rubbish bin there he would have thrown it in there. He takes off his own gloves and hands them to you. “Here, use mine. They are cotton inside.” You hesitate. His gloves? And they must be expensive. “You can keep them. I have many more like these.”

As you put on his gloves, he details his new plans with you.

“We will go to the infirmary and you will hear everything they told you to do and use. After that, we will review all your cleaning products and materials you use that come into contact with your hands and can create this reaction again. If we have to get rid of everything and buy new products we will do so.” You look at him and show your concern about the price of these possible new products. “If they are truly that expensive, I'll buy them for you. Your hands won't go back to this state on my watch. And then you come with me to Pomefiore to analyze your skin and find products to protect and care for your hands. Did you understood?”

Que Adorable! Rook thinks. Trickster really thought they could hide something from me? That really entertain him. Seeing you wearing gloves and trying to hide how uncomfortable you were wearing them and trying not to scratch your hands too much. You reminded him of an animal that tries to hide the fact that it is seriously injured.

Even though it was funny at first, he couldn't see you like this. He assumed what it was from the symptoms you show, but he didn't want to talk to you in front of others. After all, if you were trying to hide it, it's because he didn't want others to know.

He sneakily followed you to Ramshackle Dorm. You opened the door, letting Grim enter first to run to the kitchen for some snacks. You pass the door jamb and it's when you go to close the door that you hear

“Bonjour, Trickster!” Rook’s head pops from the side. He lets out a little muffled laugh at how startled you were. “I spotted yor new pair of glove on your hands. Are you perhaps trying a new look? Merveilleux! It's exciting to try out new accessories to express another side of ourselves, isn't it? However...” His friendly look now changes to that hunter look of his. And the smile of someone who cannot be deceived. “I don't believe that's the real motive you're wearing those gloves. Am I mistaken?”

You don't even know how to answer him. He already knows the truth and you know there's nothing you can do about it. His expression returns to normal, he now has that characteristic resting smile on his face.

“There's no need to be shy with me. I purposely came to talk to you here because I knew it wasn't something you wanted to discuss in public.” And now his smile has faded into that slightly more serious look that he only tends to have when something worries him a little, or when he feels that the situation is not so light. “I saw how you itched your hands, how uncomfortable you were with the gloves. It's a skin problem, isn't it? Maybe dermatitis?”

You don't say anything. It's not necessary. He knows the answer just by looking at you, your face, your posture. And your hands were starting to itch again.

“Please, you can take off your gloves. They are clearly only making your situation worse.” You hesitate. “It really hurts me to see you suffering like this. No matter how damaged your skin is, I know that your hands are as beautiful as the rest of you and that they just need treatment to become très belles again. And if you allow me to help with your recovery, I will do so with the greatest love and care.” He smiles charmingly at you, the type of smile that makes you feel safe.

You take off your gloves, showing him your red hands and unhealthy skin.

“Sacrebleu! What did this to your hands?”

You tell him it was your cleaning products and about the ointment you were using since the last time that happened to you. And, unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be having much effect this time.

“We must go to the infirmary if it's not working anymore.” He proclaims, embodying his dramatic self. “Ooh, your poor, beautiful hands, threatened by something that should assist you caring for your home and yourself. They must be replaced. I will happily help you with it and get you gloves that will protect you in the future. Fear not, my dear Trickster. Shall your hands be healthy once again.”

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[shoccolatine]

Do you feel comfortable with writing stuff about mental health issues. Like, MC being depressed due to a mission going wrong or something similar and hiding it from Zayne while they spiral deeper into it until he catches them doing something bad - like idk, self-harm, looking up suicide methods, something like that. Gender neutral reader would be great <3

If you don't want to write this for any reason, feel free to ignore my ask :)

mission failure.

⚘pairing: zayne x gn!reader

⚘summary: after one too many failed missions, you reach a breaking point. zayne comes to your aid. ⚘tags: sfw, 2nd person POV, gender neutral reader, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-descriptive/implied self-harm, mild descriptions of morbid thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst ⚘word count: 2k ⚘a/n: thank you so much for your request, i hope i did it justice! this was a very interesting write and i enjoyed it a lot. i tried to be as delicate and vague with the s/h descriptions as i could so as not to trigger anyone, but this fic still deals with sensitive content so please be safe and take care of yourself! much love 💜

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was it. You just couldn’t do anything right.

Another hunting mission had gone poorly. The third in a row, now. They do say all good things come in threes, but could the same be said of misfortune? It certainly seemed so. The first two mission failures had been played off as flukes, but this time…

You made the long trek back to Headquarters with the weight of a tail dragging between your legs, bearing a few cuts and bruises to show for it. Beside you was Tara, who was not quite so worse for wear and, although disappointed, didn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment as you. After all, she hadn’t been the one to let the Wanderer get away. Again.

“Hey, don’t look so down!” she says, in her usual cheerful tone. She pats your arm in an attempt to be comforting. “Can’t win ‘em all, right?”

You give her a look and a frown. “I mean, we should, shouldn’t we? It’s our job, after all.”

“No way! Those Wanderers were tough! I’m amazed we got as far into the Zone as we did!”

But we lost our main target, you thought, yet you held your tongue. There was no changing Tara’s mind once she was set on something. This mission was above her level, anyway, but with every other Hunter either stationed elsewhere or taking a well-deserved break, and Xavier being unreachable as usual, all you had was each other. It had been up to you, as the higher level Hunter, to uphold the team morale and guide you both through a successful mission. But lately, you just kept falling short. Even the most straightforward of missions went awry. Just what was happening?

The entrance doors slid closed behind you as you and Tara headed upstairs for the debrief. Your heart pounded with every step you took. Three failures in a row… Jenna was going to fire you for sure. She might as well do it now, to make space for a newer, better Hunter to take your place and finish your missions properly.

Instead, what came of your debrief was the offering of a week-long break. "Time off to clear your head and refresh," Jenna had said with hard concern, but it might as well have been an arrow to the chest. Just fire me now and get it over with, you thought. Stop wasting everyone’s time and resources and find someone else.

You didn’t need a break. You just needed to be better.

Getting better, however, came with a steep demand you placed upon yourself like a vase upon a pedestal, delicate and teetering. If Jenna wanted to give you another chance, then you would use this week to return to peak performance. You would train, and train, and train, until you were sure to succeed at every mission she threw at you. It was flawless. You’d be back at it in no time.

But as soon as you got off the train and back into your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. 

And sleep you did. You slept until you couldn’t think of those missions anymore, and when the thoughts inevitably returned, you slept again.

“You’re not eating enough,” Zayne said during your following check-up later that week. He stated it so matter-of-factly, like he did with any other diagnosis, never looking up from his computer as he typed something. You never knew exactly what. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a break right now?”

“How do you know that?”

“Word gets around,” he said, the beginnings of a smile etched on his face. You didn't like the idea of people knowing things like that so easily. People sure do like to talk... Zayne's hazel eyes lifted from the screen and over at you. “You need to take better care of yourself. Now is as good a time as any to catch up on your body’s needs.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. Sometimes Zayne needed to mind his own business. Wait, but he was your doctor, and one of your closest friends… What was the matter with you? You really needed to go back to bed and stop being such a nuisance. 

Maybe it’d be better if you got out of his life, too.

You met his questioning expression and the heat of your response drained out of your face. At that, you decided you didn’t want to wait for a reply. Whatever he wanted to say to you with that curious expression of his, you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t deserve to hear it. You quickly left his office and never looked back. If he called your name as the door to his office slid closed behind you, it went unheard.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

5 missed calls.

Your phone screen blares the message in your face, blinding against the darkness of your room and blurry against the tears that threatened to fall, that had already fallen, that fell and dried and fell again. Your fingers itch to reply, to call him back or send him a text, but what’s the point? He doesn’t really care. He’s probably just going to scold you for leaving your appointment halfway and being childish and not following doctor’s orders and being rude to him.

Not only have you messed up your job, you’re messing up your relationships now, too. When will you ever stop? Can’t it ever stop?

Your phone buzzes and lights up in your fingers as your ringtone sings into your sheets once more. It’s him again. Doesn’t he know when to quit? You watch his name as it waits idly on your screen. It gets tired of waiting, as it always does, and finally disappears. You sigh as another hot tear slips down your cheek.

Something new happens this time.

1 new voicemail, your phone screen reads. You start to slide the notification away, but against your better judgment, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you give in, tap the notification, and listen. 

The line is silent for a moment, and part of you hopes he gave up and left you nothing.

Finally, after what sounds like a throat clearing, he speaks.

“Hey, it’s me,” Zayne’s voice comes through the speaker. It’s got that usual muffled crackly phonecall texture laid onto it, but it sounds enough like him that it feels like he’s right there with you, underneath the blankets. “Are you alright? …Listen. Whatever it was I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner, but you left so suddenly. Call me when you’re able?”

The silence creeps in again, and you can almost hear him consider saying something more, can almost see his expression as his thoughts thunder in his brain but refuse to leave his lips, but then there’s a click, and the call ends. The robotic voicemail message drones monotonously about saving the message, and halfway through, you hang up, too.

The back of your throat clenches and burns, and you barely fight back a sob as it wrenches itself out of you. Zayne was worried about you. You made him worry. You thought he was mad, you wanted him to be mad, but he’s not. He cares about you. Why…?

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if you could push back the sting of tears that rush, hot and salty, from your bloodshot eyes. It hurts, and you start to see flashes of bright white stars under your eyelids, but it’s better than succumbing to the pain in your chest. Your heart shares a galaxy with the stars in your vision, a dying star that’s fizzling out, or maybe even being consumed by the void of a black hole. How morbidly comforting. You suddenly want to rip it out.

You wonder, just how difficult would it be to separate the Aether Core from your still-beating flesh…?

You try to shake the thoughts from your mind but they hold fast. Throwing the blankets off of your body, you leave your room hobbling like a zombie, make a beeline for the kitchen, and pull open a drawer.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s late at night when there’s a knock at your door. A slight rap of the knuckles. A sharp one, two. Once, then twice, and on the third knock there’s another sound, too. A rattling jingle. And it’s times like these when you curse yourself for giving Zayne the extra key to your apartment.

He calls out your name as he steps in. You barely hear him. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s far away, or speaking quietly, or if you’re just that far gone into your own thoughts that everything else around you is muted.

He might have called only once, or a dozen times, by the time he reaches your room and spots your hunched figure on your bed. He says your name again, and this time you do hear him. 

You meet his gaze, steeled with concern, and immediately regret it. 

He sees you, really sees you, and all at once your façade crumbles once more. He approaches the edge of your bed, and you turn your eyes anywhere but at him as you brace yourself for impact.

“What are you doing?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

Zayne grabs your wrist. Yet, his touch is gentle—firm enough to grip you, but soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You don't. You’re far too tired to fight anymore. You continue to stare at the floor with teary eyes, but there is resignation hanging heavy on your shoulders, like a wet blanket. Zayne takes your silent compliance as an okay to pull you along with him down the hallway of your dimly lit apartment and into the bathroom.

He sits you down on the toilet. The light clack of the lid hitting the porcelain beneath from your sudden weight seemed to jolt you awake a bit; your eyes refocus and follow his movements as he shuffles through the medicine cabinet. He pulls out a few things and then returns to tend to his patient.

"Hand. Here," he says as he holds out his own. You offer yours, and he meets you halfway. He always does. He’s as meticulous and calm as always as he cleans, disinfects, and wraps your wounds, ever the doctor, but there’s a certain softness in his motions that you’re sure he reserves for only his most cherished patients. 

Only for you.

The thought rolls a warm wave over you, the once wet blanket that had been dragging you down now fresh out of the laundry and wrapped carefully around you, cozy and hot and certain. There’s still a bit of damp spots here and there, but those will also dry in time. And you know Zayne will still be here when that time comes.

Your thoughts are broken when long fingers drag against your cheek, wiping away yet more damp spots and fanning through your shining lashes.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Zayne says, repeating his words from earlier that day. Was that really only today? This day was lasting a lifetime. As with before, his tone holds no ice. You regret snapping at him when he was only trying to help. He must feel your tension, because he puffs a breath out through his nose just then, and the warm air tickles the hairs on your forehead. He places a kiss there, the barest brush of his lips on your skin. He pushes your hair back with long warm fingers, tucking a strand behind your ear. “If you need help with that, I’m here. Always. You need only ask.”

Later still and he’s tucking you into bed and giving your forehead another gentle kiss, making you feel like a kid again. He’s surprisingly good at that. You don't know how he does it.

Zayne follows you under the covers, and leaves you an open invitation to snuggle against him, if you wish. You gratefully accept, tucking your head under his chin as he envelops you. He’s very careful not to apply pressure to your bandaged skin. 

Right before you fall asleep, he whispers a promise of breakfast tomorrow, and dinner, and whatever else comes next. A promise of staying, no matter what.

[jiminiecrickets]

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.4k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, oral (r. receiving), cock worship, boot worship, sir kink, feminisation + crossdressing

it's no secret that jungkook likes to be pretty. he loves dressing up, choosing a belt to go with his shoes, doing his makeup while directing you on how to best match him for a couple's outfit. but neither is it a secret that out of the two of you, he's the one in charge of your outward appearances.

so, when you appear in a crisp suit and show him a cute white gift bag stuffed with purple tissue paper to hide its contents, he's more than a little suspicious, and rather thrown-off. you want to dress him? preposterous!

then he sees what you've bought him, and all of his grumbling immediately ceases.

"what do you say, darling?"

he gazes up at you through his lashes, his blush extending down his neck and shoulders. his tanned skin, like burnished gold, is warmed by the rosy glow. he's dressed in a tiny black skirt and a black bustier, complete with fishnets and a garter belt, and ankle-strap stiletto heels. he's a classic beauty – nothing ever looks bad on him. "th-thank you, sir..."

you hum, crossing your ankle over your knee. your sleek black leather shoes catch the low light of the lamp behind you. you could get used to this. "you're welcome, baby. you look so good in black, don't you? mind giving me a spin?"

he nibbles on his plump lower lip and fidgets with his hands. he gives you a little spin, giggling shyly when you groan wantonly at the sight of his skirt flying up for a split second to reveal his lace panties. "what do you think, sir? did you get the right size?"

"did i get the right size," you mutter mockingly under your breath, grabbing his hips and tugging him in close. you press a soft kiss to his bulge as you gaze up at him, his cock pressed up against his stomach beneath the cloth of his skirt. "fuck, baby, this was mostly a joke, but..."

"but?" he whispers inquisitively, playing with the hem of his soft skirt. he strokes your hair, humming softly as he sways to a sweet pop song playing faintly in the apartment above you. the strappy black top hugs every curve and plane of his chest and you can't help but feel a tiny bit jealous.

"but i can't tell if i should keep you like this, or..." your warm hand slides down the tight curve of his ass. "get to the main course."

he bites his lip to suppress his shy smile, trailing his hands lightly over your shoulders as he lowers himself to his knees. he slides his hands down against the insides of your knees, settling himself neatly between them. "your dessert is waiting, sir. better finish quickly."

you huff. he's not supposed to be the one making demands of you. but his chest looks so good in that little heart-shaped neckline, filling it out nice and tight. he glances down at himself slyly and leans forward, arching his back with his hands between his thighs. he giggles at your slow sigh.

"you really like it, don't you, sir?" he drawls out the title almost mockingly – the tease. "maybe i should dress all pretty like this again. if i knew you liked my tits so much, i would've showed them off more often."

"you wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off of them if you did," you mutter, leaning back in your chair and watching as he drags your zipper down with his teeth, your belt already undone. it was no defence at all to him.

"i know," jungkook hums sweetly, hooking a finger under the waistband of your underwear. he grins, shockingly innocent despite his outfit and what he's doing. "i like it when you look at me."

he drags his tongue, hot and wet, along the underside of your cock and wraps his lips around the tip, moaning at the taste. you comb your fingers through his hair, tilting your head back with a soft groan. he takes a few more inches, sucking wetly, and strokes what he can't fit in one hand, gazing up at you with those huge brown eyes that can do no harm.

"don't look at the ceiling," he whines, lapping hungrily at the head of your cock and sliding the tip of his tongue along the slit, where precum leaks in little beads. "i want you to look at me, sir."

"fuck," you breathe, lowering your gaze. "my little attention whore, hm?"

he hums in agreement around your dick, his lips parting as he forces it down his throat. he gags but doesn't let that stop him, attempting it again without a second thought.

he's so fucking warm, so fucking tight. his throat pulses around your cock as he swallows constantly to avoid gagging on your length, bobbing shallowly.

jungkook can't speak, but you can see his reply in the heated, heavy depth of his gaze. all yours. he grabs your hips, pulling your cock deeper down his throat, and you suck in a hiss as his nose brushes your stomach, his plush wet lips wrapped tight around your base. spit-slick, he swallows your cock like a damn porn star, moaning around it as he grinds into air. his tall black heels press against his ass with each roll.

you take your time enjoying the sight, guiding his head to slow him down. he's too eager, choking on your cock to an unsteady beat, and you have to teach him otherwise. saliva drips down his chin as he pants and sucks wetly, moans coming out in short staccato stutters. he's always been a pillow princess, talking big game until you actually do things to him. he melts the moment you put your mouth on him, and his fucked-out expressions and babbled love confessions never cease to swell your heart.

he adores receiving, but on the rare occasions that you let him please you, it gets his head all hot and fuzzy. he's your boy and he will be good.

he mouths at your cock, panting softly against it. the heat of his breath makes it twitch, and he licks his lips as he envelops the thick head in his mouth, tongue dragging against the glans. he gazes up at you, deep brown eyes large and sweet, and leaves hungry, lingering kisses along your shaft and tip.

"good girl," you mutter, combing his silky hair from his forehead and twisting it in your fist, a makeshift ponytail. he moans loudly on your cock, gulping down the inches as if he's starved.

his hips judder weakly against your leg. his cock is meltingly hot, throbbing inside the tight panties. the cotton threads of his fishnets dig tightly into his sensitive skin; he whines around your dick as his head spins with the pain, gripping your calf with one clawed hand. the muscle of your leg flexes beneath his nails. the leather garter belt pinches around his thick thighs, and the way that there's too much of him to fit makes your mouth water.

"mmhm," he mumbles, your cock still stuffed in his mouth. he draws back and suckles on the tip, cheeks hollowing, and moans as you tug sharply on his hair and tap your cock on his slick, plump lips. "sir, please – no more, want it inside me, want you in me so bad, i'll do anything..."

"didn't fuck you hard enough yesterday, did i?" you ask, amused. you shift your grip in his hair, guiding his lips to your cock again. he parts his lips eagerly, taking it in with a soft sigh. he grinds his caged cock into your leg. "mm, look at you, such a pretty thing all dressed up f'me. feel like the luckiest guy on the planet."

jungkook averts his gaze, tucking his shoulders inwards involuntarily. he strokes your cock to a quick beat, heart fluttering at the sound of your pleased groan. "th-thank you, baby... i like the heels."

"mm, me too. make your legs go on for days." you stroke his hair and he moans softly around your cock as your nails scrape, tingling, over his scalp. he relaxes his jaw and sinks down on you as far as he can, lips stretched white around your cock as he sucks wetly. his tongue flicks against it, rubbing and gliding, and the soaking heat of his mouth and the tightness of his throat have the coil in your lower stomach twisting to breaking point. you release a string of colourful curses as he bobs his head, rapid and shallow, and you cup the back of his neck, pushing him deeper down on your cock.

he mewls, the wet sounds echoing around the room obscene and filthy. he grinds his cock desperately into your leg, arching his spine and shoving his cock tight against the laces of your oxfords. he lifts his skirt to feel more of you, and his cute cock peeks over the top of his black panties. the pink goes so well with the black.

he gets sloppy. his movements are rushed and needy, more like humping than grinding, and he mewls when your composure cracks and you thrust up harshly into the heat of his mouth.

he loves the taste of you. it's a dirty, lewd confession, even to make to himself, and he can't help but whimper in embarrassment as waves of white-hot lust roll over his body, touching every nerve and vein until all he can think is more.

he'd lick up all of you if he could. your cock, your stomach, your chest, the soft underside of your chin – and he knows what you look like sweat-slick and exhausted only because he pesters you until you go to the gym together. when you are fucking him into the mattress he's usually too gone to truly appreciate it.

he wishes so dearly to run his tongue over every part of you. every hard plane, every soft curve – he wants to learn it, taste the salt of your sweat, shower you with kisses like you do with him.

but for now, he'll placate himself with the thick heat of your cock buried down his throat. there's a reason he offered his body as a prize, free to play with as desired – he's too shy to initiate all of it himself. you're a little louder – or, at least, you're crasser, and you like to make him go beet red in embarrassment when you whisper in his ear about all the bad things you want to do to him. maybe, when he's feeling brave again, he'll write it down on a cute square of paper and tuck it into your pocket when you're not looking.

jungkook comes first, suddenly and violently. he grinds against your leg with a needy cry, swallowing your cock haphazardly until you come down his throat, tight and hot and clamping around you with each gulp and breath. his nails dig into your thighs, scrabbling at the smooth dark cloth, and he slows as he milks your cock with the smooth muscle of his throat. his eyes are shut, flushed face lax with pleasure, and his cock throbs in its binds. cum spurts rhythmically against his stomach, dripping down the inside of his pretty skirt. it smears against the creases of his inner thighs and he squirms, panting – hot and dazed – as he finally, begrudgingly, draws off your cock with a wet pop.

he sits back on his heels, arms trembling slightly as he grips onto you for support. with dark, glazed eyes, he parts his lips, showing off his empty mouth. you tuck his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his head to the side; you swipe your thumb over a spot of cum and place it gently between his lips, groaning softly as he leans in and sucks it clean.

you smirk, shifting your leg. his come is smeared along the tip of your black leather shoe, marring its otherwise pristine surface. "clean it up, babygirl."

he blushes dark, burning up beneath his skin, and he places his hands demurely between his thighs as he lowers himself and licks it up. he moans softly, completely under your spell.

at your assenting hum, he sits back on his heels. he pants softly and grins, wide and perfectly content.

"you, mh, wanna fuck me, now?"

you scoff and roll your eyes, tucking yourself away. standing, you grab his upper arm and toss him onto the bed, seizing his hip and rolling him onto his stomach. you tug his hips upwards and his eyes widen as you hook the panties between his legs under your finger, moving it aside.

"w-wait, my clothes—!"

he squeaks as you slap the ample flesh of his ass. he whines, struggling to his knees and leaning back against your chest. you kiss his temple and squeeze his sensitive cock in one hand.

"i hope you don't ruin this skirt," he complains breathily, thrusting into your palm as he tucks his face into your neck. "otherwise, i'm going to be very upset with you, mister."

"well, i bought these clothes, so i can do what i want with them." you snicker. "but yes, there is another pair – don't you worry."

jungkook huffs. "good. now, you gonna fuck me, or what? wanna feel stretched, baby. you gotta fuck my brains out or i'm breaking up with you right here."

you gasp in offence, pushing him gently down and lowering your face to his ass. you smirk as he inhales sharply with realisation and you give his ass a good smack, watching him jerk and grind against air.

"you'd break up with me for that?" you tease. "i wouldn't even be able to make it up to you."

"i guess you better—" his eyes flutter closed and his head drops to the pillows as your tongue drags over his clenching asshole, severely neglected until now. "y-you better do well, then... oh, fuck—!"

suffice to say, when you wake up, you are still jungkook's boyfriend.

[stupidfatslut420]

hi :)

my pronouns are they/it. im kinda like a boygirl, or an object. i dont care what you call me but pls use the right pronouns or im gonna ignore you.

this is a side blog, if you're cool i might follow you back from my main account.

i am an exhibitionist and a masochist. please do not hesitate to make disrespectful, degrading, and humiliating comments on my posts. please feel free to send me sexually explicit, offensive, demanding, and threatening messages. the more cruel you are to me, the more i like you. 🖤

my faves: exhibitionism, piss, degradation, humiliation, rape, stalking and kidnapping, pain (spanking/slapping/nipple torture/and more), choking, bondage, breeding, fat play/worship

my hard limits: scat, ageplay

everything else i either don't know about yet, feel neutral about, or i'm kinda into it, feel free to ask. i love experimenting!

im here to show off and have fun. show up at my house with a knife if you want to be more than a sexting buddy. :3

all of my photos/videos are tagged #v

[plentyoffandoms]

Can you pls do a part 3 to tragedy the Ethan from scream smut story?

Main Masterlist ♡ Miscellaneous Movies Masterlist

Ethan Landry x f/Reader (18+)

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @nowadayz (sorry, wouldn't let me tag you) dress from Shein.

Warnings: Some swearing. Stalking. Mentions murder, mention of breeding kink, use of birth control. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Choking. Use of the words whore and slut.

Requested by anonymous. I hope you like it

WC: 2226

Also, the photo is just to show the dress, not how I imagine the reader's body to look like

The pharmacy closest to campus didn't have any Plan B, and I was panicking as the time frame for taking it slowly started to draw to a close.

Ethan left me alone, probably waiting to see if I was pregnant or not, and I started to test the moment I could.

Right up until I got my period, and even after that, I got lab work done to see if I was pregnant.

Thankfully, I was not.

I instantly got on birth control, now knowing that Ethan may have a breeding kink, and I seem to be his idea candidate for a baby mama, so I decided to take precautions.

Speaking of Ethan, like I said, he has left me alone, for the most part.

I do find underwear missing, and then days later, they are thrown carelessly on my bed, with what looks like cum stains.

The first time it happened, I was freaked out, and I changed my locks, hoping that would stop him from entering, but he got around the new locks as well.

At this point, his is just toying with me, and I wonder each and every damn day if it will be my last.

Our little friend group is so wrapped up in themselves that they didn't even realise that the two people that were once attached at the hip no longer talk to one another.

I get up and leave the moment he comes and joins us, coming up with some excuse that I have to finish an essay or study for a test.

But then, one day, as I was packing up my stuff, Chad told me that they were all going to a party at some Frat on campus.

"I thought we were told no more parties until Ghostface was caught?"

"Since there hasn't been a murder in a bit, the Dean is pulling back on some of the rules."

'Yeah, until Ethan kills again.' I thought to myself.

"I'll think about it." I said as I walked away.

"You should come." Ethan said, making me pause. I didn't bother to turn around to face him.

"I said I would think about it." I instantly regretted the tone I gave him.

◆

I came back to my room, expecting Ethan to pop out of some hiding place, but all I found was a note stuck to my bathroom door.

"You are coming to the party." Wasn't a suggestion, but a command.

I pulled out my phone, pulling up his contact information, and my finger hovered over the call button, wondering if I should text him or not.

But he was calling me, and I hesitated at first, but knowing if I didn't answer, he would come around here, and do lord knows what to me.

I answered the call and quietly said hello.

"Hello, sweetheart. You are coming to the party and you will be wearing what I pick out."

"Ethan, please, I don't want to go to the party."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, I am doing something nice for you by buying a dress, and this is how you repay me." His tone made me shiver.

"Look, I'll sweeten the deal. You come to the party, and I promise not to harm anyone there."

"Or anyone on their way to and from the party."

"And what gives you the right to be making such demands?" Before finding out Ethan was Ghostface, I would have thought he was teasing right now, but I have no idea about right now.

"I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

"I already do that." He laughed into the phone, making me flinch.

"Any time. I won't ignore you anymore. I'll start to sit next to you again. Hang out, anything. Just leave the people alone."

"For one night."

I wanted to ask him to stop completely, but even I know that he won't. The Dean was stupid to allow for anyone to hold a party or cut back on curfew.

"For one night, just don't kill anyone."

"I'll see you later, sweetheart."

◆

When I saw the box sitting on my bed, the day of the party, I didn't want to touch it. I knew that whatever outfit he picked out, I would have to wear it just so he didn't kill anyone for one night.

I wonder if I could convince him not to kill anymore. Give him what he wants,

I opened the box and was stunned to see what dress he picked out for me.

It's a bit short, but I have no choice.

A note fell out of the box, with two words on it. 'No, Panties.'

I am royally fucked tonight.

I should call this whole thing off.

Then he will kill everyone he can get his hands on.

I picked up the dress, knowing that either way tonight, I was fucked.

◆

The girls gushed over my dress as we walked towards the party, asking me where I got it. When did I go shopping without them? Etc.

"Just online. I got it so long ago that I don't remember where from." I lied through my teeth as we walked into the party, each of us grabbing a drink.

I already decided I would have one. I have to keep my wits about me tonight.

I looked around for Ethan, but I didn't see him or Chad around, and Ethan follows Chad around like a lost little puppy at parties.

Some Frat guy walked up to me and shook my head no, giving him a disgusted look. I didn't want him to be killed because of me.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I stiffened until I smelled the cologne.

Ethan.

He pushed his hips right against my ass, and I could feel how hard he was.

He leaned down slightly and placed his lips against my ear, my own breath seeming to catch at such an intimate act.

I had to remind myself that he was Ghostface. That he would and will kill me once he is done playing whatever game this is.

"Fucking gorgeous in this dress. I knew it would be perfect for you. You do what I ask?" I nodded my head yes.

"I knew you would be a good girl for me. Come and dance with me." The moment he called me a good girl, I felt myself getting wet.

I danced with only Ethan throughout the party. Kept him busy and attached to my hip. Wherever he went, I went.

He didn't drink, and I had only one cup from when I first came to the party, but everyone one else was trashed.

There were drunk, couples making out. I saw people fucking on random pieces of furniture, or up against a wall.

They are really making up for lost time, with the no party ban and the curfews that were in place.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt Ethan's hand go under my dress, as he turned us to face a wall.

"I bet you're soaked." His finger easily slid in my soaked pussy. He added another one. I gripped his arm as he wrapped his other arm around my body to hold me against him.

Little groans fell from his lips as I couldn't stop the whines falling from mine.

"Should fuck you in front of the whole school. Let them know what an easy fucking slut you are. Let them watch as I fuck your pussy, then your face. Have you swallow my load, and show everyone that you swallowed it."

My pussy clenched around his fingers, making him chuckle against my ear. "Come on now, cum around my fingers." I was so close. So fucking close, but then the music shut off and the lights turned on.

Someone yelled police.

Someone else yelled school security.

Either way, I wasn't staying around. Ethan pulled his fingers out of me, and he ran, leaving me to find my own way out.

I found Sam, and the two of us ran, not wanting to get caught for the underage drinking. Even though I only had one drink, you could smell the beer on my breath.

I got back to my dorm room, collapsing on my bed, reading through the group text message to see who got out okay.

All Ethan put was 'home'.

I fell asleep, not knowing if I would wake up to the news that another student was dead or not.

◆

He kept his promise and didn't kill anyone that night.

No, no, that fucker waited a few more days to give a sense of false hope that Ghostface was gone, by killing the same Fratboy who tried to hit on me at the party.

I didn't find out about it on the news or through the school, I came home to him sitting on my couch with his mask off, but with his costume still on.

I didn't say anything to him, as I just looked him over, seeing the blood all over him. I gulped, not knowing what to say.

"Who was it?" I asked quietly, now looking at the floor.

"That frat guy." That was all he needed to say, and I knew who he meant.

"You didn't know him, Ethan. There was no need to kill him...." I trailed off as I finally looked into his eyes.

He was mad.

"I killed him because he thought he had a chance with you, and you are mine." He patted his lap, and I dropped my bag on the floor and straddled him, biting my lip to keep the moan falling from my lips at how hard he was.

How fucking hot I found all of this.

He killed for me.

No other person would ever do that for me.

He gripped the back of my head and brought our faces together to kiss me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I was grinding my clothed covered pussy against him, but I needed more.

"Take what you want, sweetheart."

I got off of him, and stripped out of my clothes, and all he did was shimmy his pants down and pull his cock out of his pants, and boxers.

It was red, and oh, so hard. The tip was leaking so much precum, that I wanted to lick it, but I needed him inside of me.

I straddled him once more, lowering myself onto his cock, gripping his blood soaked clothes, as I took him all the way inside of me.

Ethan's eyes were screwed shut, and his mouth was open. For once, it seemed like I was the one in charge, but all of a sudden, his hand gripped my throat, squeezing it tightly, making me grip his wrist, trying to pull his hand away.

He chuckled darkly. "I am going to destroy you." Was all he said as he flipped us around and he started to fuck me into my couch.

My vision was going blurry

Choking me to death, it seemed as he fucked me hard, and deep.

He cock dragged against my g-spot every single time he pulled out and pushed back in. This was all becoming too much for me. I thought I was going to black out from the pleasure and lack of oxygen, and then he let go of my throat.

I was gasping for air, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, but the asshole reached between our bodies, and started to play with my clit.

I was done for. I cried out his name in a broken sob, as my pussy clenched around his cock. I swear he swore under his breath at how tight I was squeezing him, but I was taken over with all the pleasure. It felt like I couldn't hear anything.

Until, he pulled out and slapped my over sensitive pussy, not once but twice. I had tears streaming down my face as I tried to close my legs, but he held them open.

"Keep them open." He instructed. I grabbed my ankles and held my legs open, the two of us watching as he sunk his cock back in me.

"Put your mask back on." I said out loud, not even realising fully what I was asking.

"I knew there was something twisted deep inside of you." Ethan said as he grabbed his discarded Ghostface mask and put it on.

I came twice more as he fucked me as Ghostface. His pace turned brutal as he sought after his own release.

"Gonna take you on the next hunt. Maybe get you to kill. Bet you would look so gorgeous covered in someone else's blood." He was babbling at this point, possibly not even knowing what he was saying as he absolutely destroyed my pussy.

He finally stilled with a long, drawn-out moan, as he came. His cum shooting deep inside of me, filling me. There was so much it started to leak out around his cock.

I was never more thankful than I am now for going on the pill.

He didn't pull out right away. He stayed there, looking down at me. "I mean it. You are coming with me next time."

I knew I had no choice in the matter.

I am too far gone. If I go to the police now, there would be to many questions, and with the most recent murder, they would most likely say I could have stopped this madness.

But did I want it to stop?

Part 2 ♡ Part 4 (maybe coming soon)

[rene-is-an-insomniac]

AHA! ITS ANOTHER GENSHIN WRITER! This one must've escaped me last time...

LGSHE sorry jokes aside I wanted to drop in and see if your requesters are open, and if they are, can I get a-

Lyney x reader general HCs?

Don't forget to eat and drink, mwah!

I have a whole bunch bc I main him, so you’re in luck.

ALSO, ty for the reminder, water helps w bad nerves.

Yes, my inbox is open if you want to send in asks~

Lyney who has separation anxiety but he tries to keep himself together, so that he doesn’t show it in front of you.

Lyney who likes taking you on small dates randomly when you least expect it. If he's busy with his fatui work, he will make up for it by taking you on a late night date.

You who has to remind Lyney to not burn himself out from his responsibilities, even if it means tying him to the bed.

You who has alot in common with Freminet, and tend to hang out when it when your boyfriend is busy. You bring him beryl conch bracelets that you created. He treasures them and wears them during his day job.

You secretly get a little jealous of Lumine and how your boyfriend acts around her, until he introduces you to her and the jealousy fades. The small words he used to describe her, did not compare to the words he held in admiration towards you.

Lyney who doesn't have the cat features from his bloodline like his sister, but very much behaves like a cat.

You who constantly have to give him reassurance that you love him, as he constantly demands your attention.

You,remind him how much you love him, and won’t abandon him, at the drop of a hat. (Haha pun not intended.)

Lyney who when you first met him, stole one of your items in his disappearing acts, just so he could see you again.

Lyney who hopes that you'll be apart of his family, permanently.

@malleux @tavvattales @yuumaofc @leftdestiny-posts @bluu-m0on @estensity

This is the tag to follow if you want to be pinged for updated content.

Anything Lyney related will be under #adventures with a magician boy from a quiet villiage

[rjalker]

"what does not wanting to date have to do with being ace?!?!"

"what does not wanting to have sex with people have to do with being aro?!?!"

The current amisic stance is just as ridiculous as it sounds.

It's 2024 and people hate aroaces and non-SAM aros and aces so much they're literally trying to define us out of asexuality and aromanticism because they want the asexual and aromantic tags to literally be For Allos Only. I'm not even fucking joking.

the split attraction model is not mandatory. You literally do not ever get to demand people use it.

The asexual tag is for literally every single asexual person in existance. Not just allo aces.

the aromantic tags is for every single aromantic person I existance. Not just allo aros.

You do not get to ban aroaces and non-SAM aros and aces from using the main general tags for the fucking community just because you're allo and completely separate your romantic attraction from your sexual attraction.

Your experiences are not universal.

There is no fucking definition in existence that separates sexual and romantic attraction.

You literally do not have the right or ability to define other people's orientations or experiences to them.

"well I can easily separate my sexual attraction from romantic, so that means everyone can!"

No we fucking can't and newsflash, asshole, we're literally not even required to try! No other fucking orientation comes with the demand to forcibly separate sexual from romantic attraction. The fact that you think it's okay to demand this of aspec people just shows you're blatantly amisic.

The allo aros and allo ace tags exist. Use them if you hate seeing aroaces and non-SAM aros and aces existing so much.

If you hate seeing posts in the aromantic and asexual tags that don't conform to your personal definitions of asexuality and aromanticism that is literally just too fucking bad. Suck it up you whiny fucking self entitled brat. The world does not revolve around you.

If you hate aces and aros and aroaces so much you want to define us out of the aspec community to make sure allos are the only ones allowed...you will be the laughing stock of the whole fucking community. Get over yourself.

[katsukiizmoon]

Fanfiction Writing / Reading

Hi everyone, I wanted to make a little post on general fanfiction writing and reading etiquette etc for everyone. For reference I've been writing fanfiction since I was 12, I'm now nearing 23 and I've been on tumblr since 2013. There's links to resources for those that would like them.

-> GENERAL ADVICE

Color Coding Dialogue On Tumblr: While using color can create visual contrast in things like titles or description, using it to color code dialogue can cause problems for those who are neurodivergent or vision impaired. For instance, I have trouble reading things where the dialogue for one character is bright in color. This means I miss out and can't read and support many new writers.

Showing support for your writers: I don't think demanding reblogs is an appropriate response. However, as someone who has been here for a long time, it's important. You can show your support by commenting, liking, reblogging (and reblogging with tags gives brownie points). Generally : liking will be lost in a sea of likes over time making it harder for you to find that fic again but shows you thought it was good, reblogging shows you enjoyed the fic enough to share it with those on your blog (you can even have a side blog dedicated to fics) and would like to find it again, reblogging with tags or comments says that you enjoyed it enough to share it, push it higher in the tags and that you had thoughts. This helps motivate writers ! Feel free to send them an anonymous ask if you're shy, expressing that you really enjoyed their work.

Use of italics and bold in works: Italics and bold should be used to indicate stressing or importance of certain words. EX: "no you did it!" vs "no you did it" ! You don't need to italic entire dialogue unless it's in certain situations (flashbacks, memories, whispers, etc)

Plotting & Timing: Plot and timing can be a really useful tool! Understanding what your characters are doing and having the plot move smoothly is important when writing. It prevents gaps and promotes interest. Even some of my works move a little too fast, and it can sometimes cause confusion.

READ, READ, READ: Reading is probably the fastest way to increase and broaden your horizons as an author. It allows you to gain a larger vocabularic range and new metaphors. And it helps you find what could be plot holes and more.

SMUT ; Cum Timing: I've written this before, it can happen but it's unlikely. I'll make a whole post dedicated to.. smut. But for now. Here's some other scenarios and miscellaneous notes: -> bottom cums really early on, then the top cums later -> top cums extremely early on, proceeds with oral on bottom -> top can't get it up (this happens a bit with drugs involved) for a while and gives pleasure to bottom, then stops and gives up on an orgasm

Those are a few of my main, overall tips but I'm going to link you to a bunch of resources, too. I understand more than anyone what it's like being new to this. But one of the biggest pieces advice I'm going to give you is:

Allow your writing to be objectively "bad" at first. It always comes with practice. My first fanfictions I used "~" like it was a goddamn period. It's okay.

-> RESOURCES

"writing resources : words are hard"

"describing feelings, emotions, and tone"

"au prompt list"

"how to write medieval smut"

"starting a new paragraph"

"writing resources: world building"

"writing fight scenes"

"ways to further develop main characters"

There are tons of writing blogs on tumblr. You can send them an ask anonymously if you have any questions and they may respond with some good resources. Being a little more on the accurate side, even if you accidentally fuck up a bit, gives you brownie points a LOT.

Have a nice day OwO !

[scoobydoodean]

am I the only one who thinks the very existence of crossroad demons in canon makes it clear that selling your soul for someone else is not even something that's particularly unhinged? they have people out there making demon deals for far less than bringing a family member back from the dead lol it's just that demons are very invested in fucking with the winchesters and poking at dean's perceived neediness and vulnerability and his and sam's codependency. maybe it's just terminal deangirlism but I have never really bought into him being particularly needy or clingy I think he's baseline normal but everyone else acts like he's smothering them

Context

Copying my tags also:

Dean's main way of saving Sam is by sacrificing himself? And I think a lot of that reflects Dean's struggles with depression and suicidal ideation. Sam isn't the only one Dean has been shown to be willing to sacrifice himself for when he was at a low point. He was ready to die for Layla in 1.12 and he was ready to die in 13.05. Both emotional low points where he was struggling with his own sense of worth. 2.22 is a low point Dean has been building to all season. His worsening depression is very clear. 9.01 is simply... severely misinterpreted in terms of Dean's perspective. He risks his life every day. He stood between max and his mom in 1.14 also with a gun pointed at his chest

And yeah people in SPN make demon deals a lot. Sam says he tried to make a demon deal to get Dean back in 4.01, but no demon would deal. He also tried to re-open the Devil's Gate from 2.22 (which would let out hundreds of demons yet again to wreak havoc on the world). John made a demon deal to save Dean's life, and many fans don't even think he cares about Dean. Bobby made one, Bela made one, etc.

I could go through the whole show to prove Dean being a Needy and Clingy and Smothering person simply is not accurate... or, because I'm tired of making up people's arguments for them and proving a negative by going through a whole show is very annoying (and I am technically already doing that very extensively through a series of searchable tags), I could just say fans who think this way are incorrect.

If they don't think they are, they're welcome to give me examples of Dean actually being a uniquely horribly needy and clingy and desperate and demanding person who forces people to stay with him forever and ever because he doesn't care what they want and desperately wants to control their lives. I've certainly seen people try to make the argument before, but without fail each time they point to examples that are 1) not even remotely unique to Dean (and he's usually the weakest example and I can think of multiple for other characters showing behavior that is objectively more extreme) 2) presented in an intentionally misleading or mind-blowingly out of context manner 3) woefully (and often rather deliberately) mischaracterizes Dean's motivations.

Anyway, feel free to stream related tags I track:

#sams motivations

#taurus sam in the flesh

#In which Sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea

#sam the hunter

#sams moral compass

#projecting displaced aggression and scapegoating in spn

spn revisionisms

#demons lie

#youre such a control freak

[oneatlatime]

Any predictions for season 3, or are you planning to dive straight in?

You're not the first person who's mentioned s3 predictions, so I'll give it a shot, but I'm really not sure if I have anything to use to make predictions. S2 ended in a very final, end of arc kind of way. Lots of things have been tied up. I don't even know where they're all flying off to. Back to the Southern Water Tribe, since the Earth Kingdom's a bit of a bust? The Fire Nation's out of the question, the Northern Water Tribe probably has mixed feelings about seeing them again, maybe the Eastern Air Temple? Although even that might not be safe, since Aang's travel plans to said temple to meet the Guru were known by various Earth Kingdom generals. And that stupid King.

I think the Fire Nation contingent are going back to the Fire Nation, and I am looking forward to a Zuko with eyes at least somewhat open interacting with FN citizens/nobles/military etc. who are still completely drinking the kool aid. I think it's going to suck for Zuko. Should make for good TV though. Lots of conversations where both people are saying entirely different things while thinking they're talking about the same thing.

I said it before, but I'm worried for Iroh. He's for sure arrested, but is he going to be executed? Obviously I don't want that, but unless Iroh still has enormous popular support, and the Firelord's grasp on power is incredibly shaky, I don't see how permanently eliminating a traitor (from a FN perspective) can be avoided. Then again. Kids' show.

As for the Gaang? In broad strokes, Aang still needs to learn firebending to fully Avatar himself, then he needs to defeat the Fire Lord (who is quite the homebody apparently - seriously, where is this guy?). So next season Aang will shake off his lightning hangover, find a firebending teacher, defeat the firelord. He'll probably have to commute to the Fire Nation to find the Fire Lord first. No idea what he'll do in between those things. Perhaps inadvisable shenanigans? That would be in character. His biggest story arc all series has been learning to accept his status as Avatar, but between his talks with the Guru and opening his last Chakra in the finale, I think he's done it. So all that's left is the main plot and goofiness.

Katara has the same problem she had going into S2 - she's mastered waterbending, so she needs a new conflict/arc. S2 answered this demand by... having her hang around? What did Katara do this season? Bend a bunch, set up camps, tear down camps, wreck Jet, support Aang, be nice to Toph that one time, yell at people. I hope she gets something meatier in S3. I still think she should meet some good FN citizens that challenge her morals.

Sokka was also kind of just there this season, although if I'm being mean I'll say that he was also kind of just there for S1 too, which is why it doesn't feel as odd as Katara's lack of purpose. I loved his stuff with Suki. Suki is officially the glow up of the season. I loved their interactions together, and I love the growth she poked him into doing. I'd like to see more of that. So less a prediction and more of a hope: S3 Sokka develops the ability to rely on/trust others (or maybe realises others can be relied upon/trusted is more accurate), hopefully with Suki somehow involved. And I loved his dad too. I want to see more of that guy, but since a cardinal rule of kids' stories is getting rid of the authority figures asap, it won't happen.

Toph. Honestly I'm stumped. She already broke the universe. Where can she go from there? Unless she's going to devolve into an antagonist, which I absolutely don't want, I don't see how she can top her S2 plot. And Aang's got earthbending down, so I guess she'll be like Katara was this season: tagging along. Not that I'm complaining; I love me some Toph in any form. We have seen that she wants to make peace with her parents, sort of, probably? Or at least give them another shot? But I kind of don't want her within 100 miles of her parents. So I don't know.

Appa & Momo will hopefully be tagalongs in S3 too. I learned my lesson this season about wanting the animals to have character arcs.

I guess the antagonist in S3 will be the Fire Lord, finally. Who else is left? Zhao tried, he died. Azula tried, she won. Unless S3 has an Azula rematch. But would she want that? She's already proven that she won. She can go home and enjoy the spoils of her victory (which may or may not include Zuko - I'm kind of unclear on exactly how much agency Zuko is going to have in the FN, especially since I'm not actually sure that he has permission to be there as a free man - didn't the arrest warrant Azula was executing in episode 1 list both Zuko and Iroh?)

There's nothing left for the Gaang in Ba Sing Se, so I doubt they'll go back there. Frankly it's the FN characters who have roots there. I wonder what will happen to Iroh's tea shop? I wonder if his investors will find out who he is? I wonder if money talks louder than national loyalty? (It's the Earth Kingdom - the answer is yes) Wouldn't it be funny if Iroh busted out of imprisonment and went right back to serving tea? And everyone sent to find him would be thinking "this is the famed tactician the Dragon of the West - he's probably travelling the FN plotting a coup as we speak. That devilish mind of his must have safe houses set up all over the nation." When actually he's right back where he got caught, doing exactly what he was doing when he got caught, to great and not-very-quiet acclaim?

I think S3 might have an overall darker tone too, within the bounds of a kids' show. I don't know what place Ba Sing Se occupied in the mind of the average person in the Avatar universe (although refugees seemed to revere it), but the city's fall to the FN represents a very big FN victory. The Gaang will probably be the most underdoglike in S3. S1 was mostly stalemate, then a big FN defeat. S2 was opened with the FN taking Omashu and closed with them taking Ba Sing Se. The FN have never been in a better position, and I bet the NWT is safe from further invasion only until the FN have built their fleet back up. So even the few free areas could have an expiry date on their freedom.

This is rapidly devolving into rambles, so I'll conclude by saying I have no clue what's going to happen next season, and that's exciting.

[ineedtorantaboutjiangcheng]

My first rant, and the reason I snapped and made this blog, is not about Jiang Cheng. It's actually about the characters around him.

See, I was reading this fic and, without naming any specifics, I was enjoying it. Nothing especially groundbreaking, but it was good enough that I was immersed. In fact, the thing that probably got me about this is that what I liked most about the fic, what was really sucked me in, was the characterisations. Wei Wuxian was the definite standout. Fic premise meant that he was injured, but he was being portrayed with his canonical resilience, which is rare enough that prior to this, I would have likely celebrated the fic for it's accuracy. It's a difficult thing to pull off, and I always give extra credit to authors who can walk the line of, essentially, whumping a character while still keeping them themselves.

Then it happened. Jiang Cheng showed up. I've sometimes clicked out of a fic just for that (the timing of his appearance is, occasionally, enough of an indicator of his role in the story that I know I'm not going to be able to jive with it), but I was immersed! And the author had gained my trust with the aforementioned character accuracy until that point! I was caught up, and ready to roll with whatever version of Jiang Cheng came out.

And, well, his behaviour seemed somewhat accurate to canon. Angry, accusatory, sort of irrational, in an overly suspicious way. Seemed pretty good. Again, the timing made me think that the fic was probably going to go the reconciliation path, but you know, I can get through that. I don't care enough about Jiang Cheng that his presence or absence alone is enough to ruin a fic I'm otherwise enjoying.

But then, imagine my shock. Jiang Cheng, post first siege (where, as far as everyone knows, he killed Wei Wuxian, and has spent the years since his death hunting down and torturing anyone who might be/reminds him of him. You can dispute Jiang Cheng's actions, if you wish, but not that this is how he is widely perceived), demands to see Wei Wuxian. And Lan Wangji, who loves Wei Wuxian, who spent stars knows how much time desperately trying to protect Wei Wuxian, who would stand between Wei Wuxian and the world if he had been allowed, just... agrees.

Lan Wangji. Agreed. To let a Jiang Cheng, who shows no, I don't know, remorse, or concern, or anything, toward a person he is credited with murdering, that Lan Wangji believes he murdered. And Lan Wangji just... yep. I'll just take you to see Wei Wuxian. Sure, he's injured, and vulnerable, and you show no sign of wanting to do anything other than a violence. Yep, right this way.

And THIS. THIS is why Jiang Cheng infuriates me. This is why I had to make this blog. Because I don't care about Jiang Cheng, love him, hate him, think he's the most evil scum imaginable, think he's the true victim of mdzs, I literally don't care. I don't have enough investment in the character to give a fuck about how accurate he is.

But I love Lan Wangji. I really do (and Wei Wuxian, and Wen Ning, and Wen Qing, and Jin Ling, and every other character even peripherally related to Jiang Cheng). So to see the characters I do care about being warped and twisted, just to try and force a particular narrative to play out about this one character? I've spent the past idk two hours as I set this up frothing with rage.

It's not like he's the main character of this fic. He's one of the last ones listed (after characters that are actually deceased throughout the entirety of the fic), and there's no, idk, Yunmeng siblings or reconciliation tag or anything. Full confession, I haven't finished the fic, but I'm well over halfway through, so I can somewhat confidently say that his presence, while maybe playing into something in the endgame, is not super critical.

And yet. The author, who until that point had been pretty good with their characterisations, felt the need to overlook one of the main characters primary personality traits (Lan Wangji's desire to protect people and keep safe that which he loves) in order to... make it slightly easier for Jiang Cheng to be shoehorned into the plot? Why? Just... why?

I'm frustrated. Frustrated, and confused. Is it lack of imagination? Could the author not think of a single other way Jiang Cheng might come into contact with Wei Wuxian after the first siege (assuming, of course, that he is alive)? I don't believe that, the author did well enough with thinking up some left field plot points at other stages of the fic. Did they overlook the fact that, Jiang Cheng having demanded Lan Wangji take him to Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji could have just... not done that? Lan Wangji, Mr. You Are Not Qualified To Talk To Me, had no choice but to acquiesce to Jiang Cheng's will. He couldn't have just. refused. Or walked away from the conversation. Knocked him out and left. Or called out the inherent contradiction of Jiang Cheng wanting to visit someone he killed (again, regardless of your opinion on Jiang Cheng's culpability, it is made clear in canon that that is the version of events Lan Wangji knows/believes). Or at the very least placed conditions on Jiang Cheng that he's not allowed to do anything to harm Wei Wuxian.

But nope! In the space of a single scene, just by his very presence, apparently, Jiang Cheng is able to turn a fully fledged, well characterised version of Lan Wangji into a robot that cannot disobey a human's will due to it's programming.

And it may seem like I'm ragging on this poor author, or that I'm getting too worked up over one scene, and, and, yeah, that would... that would be correct (hence I'm trying to avoid saying anything identifying about the fic, though I realise that might lessen the impact of my arguments). But the thing is, it's not just this fic. Or just this author.

It's everywhere.

I cannot count the number of fics that have characters that otherwise align pretty well with their canonical selves, only for all that to go out the window the second Jiang Cheng shows up. It's like people can't help themselves. Jiang Cheng appears, and every other character must suddenly become whatever version of themselves makes Jiang Cheng appear most sympathetic/reasonable/well-intentioned. Whatever helps the author make Jiang Cheng be what they want him to be.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji definitely get this the worst. Wei Wuxian goes from an intelligent, calculating individual, who excels at reading the situations he's in and figuring out what's going to get him the outcome he wants*, to a reckless idiot who charges in without thinking because he wants to "be a hero". And Lan Wangji goes from someone who has repeatedly failed to save the ones he loves, and so is appropriately determined to protect them as much as he can (without becoming his father), to someone who thinks he always knows best**, and will happily put someone he loves into a potentially deadly situation because... I don't know. His thinking is pretty much never clearly explained, but I've seen different half-reasons. Sometimes Lan Wangji just thinks that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are such good, good brothers, and that Jiang Cheng is so important to Wei Wuxian that the chance to hold a conversation with him is worth Wei Wuxian... best case scenario, being verbally abused, worst case, being tortured to death. Sometimes he thinks he wouldn't be able to stop Jiang Cheng which... haha. Even Jin Ling, who reflexively defends Jiang Cheng over everything, thinks that Jiang Cheng doesn't stand a chance against Lan Wangji. Sometimes he thinks he shouldn't interfere with someone else's family... even though they aren't related, and Jiang Cheng cannot, under any circumstances, acknowledge Wei Wuxian as anything other than a disciple/servant. Also, Lan Wangji gets involved in everything. That's kind of his thing. You know... going where the chaos is? There's certainly a lot of chaos whenever Jiang Cheng is around...

But really, it's everyone. Wen Ning goes from being so defensive of Wei Wuxian that he breaks a promise and reveals a secret he kept for nearly twenty years just to get Jiang Cheng to stop talking shit, to usually being passively pushed into the back seat, his bond with Wei Wuxian glossed over in favour of the "brothers"***. Wen Qing, a person so devoted to Wei Wuxian that she sacrificed herself and her beloved brother on the off chance that it would mean he wouldn't have to face consequences for Jin Zixuan's death, is suddenly chastising Wei Wuxian for not doing more to smooth over their relationship. Jin Ling goes from creating a diversion so that he can help Wei Wuxian escape Jiang Cheng, despite knowing he would get in trouble for it, to trying to trick them into being in the same room. It's everyone.

Every. Single. Character. Must be changed, must behave in ways antithetical to their personalities and relationships, because it seems that's the only way many people can reconcile with their affection for a character that behaves the way Jiang Cheng does. In order to keep Jiang Cheng even slightly resembling his canonical self (angry. violent. verbally abusive at every possible opportunity), and yet still have him be welcomed and beloved by the other characters, every other character must lose integral parts of themselves. Mo Dao Zu Shi is, in many ways, a surprisingly tightly woven story when you start pulling threads, and if you want that jumper to work like pants, you need to get the scissors and start cutting.

Or at least, I can only assume that's what's happening. I can't fathom any other reason as to why so many fics, that are otherwise fairly true to character, veer so wildly OOC as soon as he appears. And it is so, so many fics. Note: I've read, ballpark, around two thousand mo dao zu shi fics (yes, I have no life. no, why do you ask?), and this happens in a staggering amount of them.

And basically, this is the root of my issue with Jiang Cheng. I don't care how you write him, he can be the most loving, soft, compassionate individual in the world in your fic, it's your fic, you write what you like****, I'm just going to engage less with those parts, because I don't care as much. You can make him greet each sunrise by weeping, and coo over every baby he encounters on the street, and weave blankets for the homeless in his free time. I literally don't care.

What I care about is the changes made to the other characters. That in order to raise Jiang Cheng, other characters must be dragged down. That he must be there, and he must be the secretly misunderstood caring brother, so every character that could challenge that in any way must be changed, by any means necessary, to prevent that.

(But really, do they? It's fanfiction. Can you really think of no way to make Jiang Cheng be the character you want him to be without mutilating everyone else? If you truly feel for him, truly think his actions make sense, truly wish to show how his relationships can be fixed without him altering his own attitude... then shouldn't it be easy enough, to persuade others of this, without turning the cohesive characters around him into a farce?)

* - since I know this is going to get disputed, even if only internally, by someone; the literal second scene involving Jiang Cheng (immediately post dancing-statue attack, Jiang Cheng suspects and wants to test with Zidian) has Wei Wuxian realise he's not going to be able to escape without some proof of innocence (i.e. reading the room, despite the stress of the moment). He then deliberately steps out of cover so Jiang Cheng can hit him, proving he's not possessing Mo Xuanyu, and then, when that's not enough to guarantee his freedom, he recognises that, and plays on Jiang Cheng's ego (and ymmv homophobia) by saying he's not his type, so Jiang Cheng can't take him without losing too much face, which Wei Wuxian knows he won't do, since Jiang Cheng is very concerned with reputation and appearances (after all, that's why he refused to help Wen Qing and Wen Ning, in spite of the debt he owed them). If that doesn't indicate Wei Wuxian is a clever person who thinks things through, I don't know what does.

** - not as worried about this being disputed, but I can see people thinking this so; no, Lan Wangji doesn't think he knows best. He did when he was young (or, at least, thought the rules he lived by were definitive morals), and that's what led to his rigid black-and-white thinking regarding rules and such. Then he got older, and got more experience, and made some mistakes, and realised that different people approach the world differently, and that he needed to be more flexible and meet people halfway if he wanted to be able to help them. See his change in attitude toward mo dao/gui dao.

*** - fic challenge; see how many fics that portray Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng as close, loving brothers, and also contain the close, caring, trustful friendship between Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning. It's very, very few. On some level, I think everyone who wants to show Jiang Cheng as #bestbrother knows that, from his actions to his attitude, Wen Ning is what a beloved, caring, bad-reputation-but-is-actually-just-misunderstood baby-brother-figure should be.

**** - at the end of the day, everyone has the right the write whatever they like in their fic. I'm a full supporter and encourager of that. But if you don't make it clear that you are going to write OOC, I reserve the right to feel frustrated when I stumble across it. I would never comment it in the fic itself, Ican't imagine anything more poorly mannered, but I am, apparently, not above vague blogging about it (hopefully vague enough that no one can identify any specific fics).

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Fourteen

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

a/n: i'm so sorry for the wait, but here we are! enjoy my loves. thank you for all of your comments on this fic ♡

warnings: strong language

wc: 2976

masterlist

pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! if your name is bold, i couldn't tag your blog :( tags below:

@slyth3rin-princess-deactivated2 @lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @hnyusui @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized

Chapter Fourteen - I Think I Love You

The sconces flicker against the stone walls, barely lighting your journey to the tower. Everyone else was still enjoying dinner and celebrating the announcement of the ball, but you were making the winding trip to find Draco. You thought he might have escaped to the tower early, hoping to find him waiting there for you, but when you reach the top he's nowhere to be seen. It was odd, but perhaps he'd retired to his dorm and forgotten about your meeting.

That, you figured, wasn't a good enough excuse.

The fact he hadn't shared two words with you since his game on Saturday didn't sit well, as you immediately jumped to the conclusion that he's mad at you. He's mad that you told him to spend time with Astoria and walked off without him. He's mad that instead of giving in to him, you made the bold decision to let his future wife entertain him for a while. You huff irritably, and begin storming down the staircase to be met at the bottom by the man of the hour.

"You're leaving?"

"Well, I thought you weren't showing."

"Am I late?” He says, checking his watch.

You stand at the foot of the stairs, staring at Draco, now out of his school uniform and in comfier clothes. He can see you're frustrated, but far too cautious to ask why.

"I saw you leave dinner early,” you then say, "so I just thought you’d be here already.”

"Well, I’m here now," he smiles lightly, "I just wanted a shower, that’s why I left early," he lies, "c'mon, lets go chill out for a bit."

He takes your hand, and without a second thought, you allow him to take you back up the stairs you just came down. Once at the top he pulls you over to the balcony, the night breeze causing you to shiver a little.

"You cold?" he asks gently, going to take his hoodie off when you stop him, grabbing the fabric. He gives you a questioning look, "what's wrong?"

"Leave it on," you demand softly, "I'm fine."

"Okay," he says slowly, not sure as to why you refused his jumper when you haven't in the past, "are you alright? You seem off."

"Oh, I don't know," you shrug dramatically, "you decide to not speak to me for the rest of the weekend and then show up offering me your clothes. But, it's fine. You carry on, Draco."

"Huh?" he raises an eyebrow, and you're already finished before you've started, rolling your eyes and leaning against the railing, "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone?"

"When did I say that?" you argue back, brows furrowed.

"You told me to go with Astoria," he says, and you can see how carefully he's choosing his words right now, "I figured that meant you didn't want to spend time with me."

You laugh breathlessly in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

He looks incredibly sheepish.

"Yes?"

"Unbelievable," you mutter, and he scoffs.

"What is?" he questions irritably, "you're hard to read, you know. You tell me to spend time with another girl, what am I supposed to think?"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco," you raise your voice and hold out your arms, "I told you to go with her because I thought it was for the best, not because I don't want to see you. I convinced myself you were mad at me."

He's looking at you like you've just spoken in French to him.

"Mad?" he repeats, raising both his eyebrows now, "I'm not mad. I'm never mad with you."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" you ask, voice softer and clearly sad. His heart sinks knowing you've been worried about upsetting him. He was hurt when you left him standing there, but he knows why you did it. He understands its hard.

"I just," he begins to say but gets a little lost. He wishes you still passed notes like before sometimes, "when you told me to go with Astoria, I thought you were trying to distance yourself," he looks towards his fiddling hands, "and I fucking hate that."

He wasn't wrong, you were trying to do that. You were trying to do the right thing, or the thing you were made to believe was the right thing. You sigh deeply before closing the gap between the two of you and taking his fiddling hands.

"Draco," you say softly, his full attention on you now, eyes glistening with that same adoration he always has for you, "I don't want to distance myself, but the reality is, we have to, just a little," his eyebrows furrow, "even if it's just meeting once a week-"

"No," he cuts you off, "why should we do that? I know things are difficult but I don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me, Draco," you reassure him, squeezing his hands tighter, "I just think, considering how things are going, we need to learn to be without one another," you reach up and touch his face, all tension immediately leaving his body, "we both know this little world of ours can't last forever."

He leans into your touch, savouring it. No one makes him feel the safety that you do, and he curses his family and his bloodline for depriving him of this feeling. He feels your thumb rub his cheek, and goosebumps form on his arms. Never has he craved something like he does you.

"I'm sorry," he then whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm ruining everything."

"None of this is your fault," you tell him gently, "we can't help the families we come from. You're trying to honour them, even if you don't want to. You're a good man, Draco. You'll make someone very happy someday."

You can feel the tears at the corner of your eyes, chest tying in a uncomfortably tight knot. It was painful, all of this was painful, and you could see it in his eyes. Pain, frustration, turmoil.

"You're too good for this world, you know that?" he whispers, moving his hands to your waist and pulling you closer. You should push him away, but you don't, "and far too good for me."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm not," he presses his forehead to yours, "it's the truth. No matter what you say."

Absentmindedly, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Your noses nudge again, and you think this is a repeat of the Quidditch pitch. He brushes his nose against yours. You do it back. It's just the two of you, with a slight breeze, and moonlight casting shadows in the tower. It's perfect. He's perfect, and he's leaning in, so close, almost there...

"Draco," you say quickly, pulling back from his embrace, "we can't. We can't keep doing this."

"Right, I'm sorry, sorry," he rambles, running a hand through his hair, "I just got carried away."

"It's fine," you say breathlessly, trying to compose yourself, "we just need to keep our distance a little more. That's all."

He nods. He agrees, but it's unfair.

"Yeah," he says, pacing, "sorry. I'm sorry."

"Stop, it's fine," you say again, moving closer to the railing to feel the cold night air against your clammy skin. He comes to stand beside you, hands on the cool metal before you. He's so pent up with frustration his knuckles are almost white.

"This fucking sucks," he murmurs, and you hum, "and now this shitty dance is happening. Someone really has it in for me. I think it's Aunt Bella."

You laugh through your nose lightly.

"I love dances," you say, looking out at the forest, feeling his gaze back on you, "the last one I went to was the Yule Ball."

"I wish I could say the same," he says gloomily, "my mother uses any excuse to hold a party. That way she can invite all of her favourite bachelorettes."

You look across at him. Such anger in one person, you wonder how he keeps it all in there. Just from his body language, the way he holds himself, you can see the peril he's in.

"Whatever happens," you smile softly, "I'm still here for you, you know that."

He smiles back. It's both sad and grateful.

"As I am for you," he says quietly, placing his hand over yours, "best friends forever, right?"

That makes your smile grow wider and his fondness for you only increases tenfold. He wants to make you smile like that for the rest of his life.

"Best friends forever," you repeat, looking back at him with glossy, soft eyes. Draco then has a thought so sudden it shakes him.

I think I love you.

You don't notice the change in his expression as you're simply playing with his fingers, but it hits him so hard it knocks the wind out of him. He's looking at you, all of you, from your head, to your intertwined hands, to your feet, and the thought only intensifies.

I think I love you. I think I love you.

He can't tell you. He swallows the lump in his throat and takes your hand, holding it tighter and regaining your attention.

"Just so you know," he tells you seriously, and you're all ears, "things would be a whole lot different if I had it my way," you take a sharp breath in, and he can see the tears threatening to spill, "I want you to remember that, alright?"

You nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Unable to say anything else, you let a tear slip. He moves like lightning to wipe it away, before giving in and breaking the rule you just made. You don't hesitate to hug him back, squeezing each other as if your life depends on it.

"After tonight," you whisper to him, sniffling, and Draco feels his own eyes water, "we'll just talk during school hours, okay? It's for the best, even if we hate it."

He doesn't answer verbally, but you feel him nod, head resting against yours. He knows it has to be this way, but it doesn't make it any easier. For the rest of your time in the tower, Draco holds you as close as physically possible, knowing that this very well might be the last time he gets to have you like this.

As it just so happened, the next two weeks were such a whirlwind, that you barely had time to speak to Hermione, nevermind Draco. With homework coming out of your ears and the constant threat of finding a dress, the ball had almost lost its charm. By the time you had made it to Gladrags Wizardwear, you were wondering if it was all even worth it.

Draco had kept his distance from you, so much so that he even stepped aside when you walked by. It was like he couldn't even breathe near you anymore. A few friendly smiles and the odd small talk was about as good as it got. For the better, you tell yourself, all for the better.

"This one?" Hermione questions, holding up a lovely pale pink dress.

"For you, yes," you tell her, "but for me, a solid no."

"Really?" she knits her eyebrows together, "I think it would look nice on you."

She places it back in the rack and starts to shift through the other dresses on sale. Gladrags Wizardwear wasn't as packed out today as it had been, so you both decided to find an outfit for the ball later that week. Hermione seemed so excited, you didn't have the heart to tell her you weren't feeling up to it.

There wasn't much point if you had to watch him dance with someone else.

"Okay, you have to like this one," she said, looking awfully pleased with herself as she pulls out a silky blue dress. It hung perfectly from the hanger, and from your expression, Hermione knew she'd picked right this time, "shall we try it on?"

"Heavens, no," you breathe, "I couldn't afford that, just look at it. It's beautiful."

"So? Doesn't mean you can't try it," she tells you, already heading towards the dressing room, "we can always look for a cheaper one in Witch Weekly," she leans in a whispers, shoving the dress into your hands and your body into the changing booth.

You stare at yourself for a while in the long mirror. The dress was exquisite, such a pretty shade of blue and it fit in all the right places. It was perfect, but the price tag wasn't. You sigh, gliding your hands over the nice material. You wonder if Draco would like it, and then curse yourself. You hadn't realised how accustomed you had become to your meetings in the tower. Only last night you found yourself halfway down the corridor when you suddenly remembered; no one was waiting for you. It was like a second nature, going to see him when the night fell, but now you found yourself twiddling your thumbs. So, you asked for extra homework to make up the time, burying yourself in your work to numb the sadness you felt.

Why him, you think to yourself, why did it have to be someone like him?

"Are you ready?" you hear a muffled voice through the curtain, reminding you of where you were right now, "I want to see it!"

You bring yourself back to the room, taking a deep breath before pulling back the curtain to see Hermione. Her eyes widened, her mouth curling into a marvelous expression.

"Oh my goodness," she mutters, "I think that may have been made for you."

"You think?" you ask, suddenly feeling very exposed, "I'm not sure, it's tighter than what I would usually go for."

"Honestly, if you don't buy it, I will," she says, in all seriousness, "you have to get it."

You take the price tag and jab your finger on it.

"Have you seen this?" you whisper to her, "it's my entire banks worth."

"I'll do half?"

"Don't be stupid."

Just then the bell on the door rings, and in walks the last person you wished to see. She wondered in, as effortless as ever, with several other Slytherin girls. Hermione followed your gaze to her, noticing immediately your change in demeanour.

Astoria Greengrass was an undeniable beauty. Even without the trimmings, she was simply stunning. Her hair cascaded down her back in chocolate curls, natural eyelashes long and black, and eyes like polished emeralds. They shone, glinting in the gentle sunlight coming in through the window. Her smile was infectious, causing the other girls in the group to laugh along with her. She headed straight for the rack of green. Always a Slytherin. Her jet black fingernails grazed each dress. Any of them would do. Price didn't matter to her. Hermione turned back to you.

"Anyway," she tried to lighten the mood, "we can always look for a similar one in Witch Weekly like I said. How about it?"

"I think I'll just pass," you then say, clearly swallowing the lump in your throat, "I'll get changed and then we can go, yeah?"

Hermione just nodded, giving you a sad smile. She wasn't going to keep you there, not when Astoria was parading around. You slid off the dress, wiping a stray tear in the process. No doubt it would be her on Draco's arm at the weekend, perhaps in one of those searingly expensive green gowns. You carefully put the dress back on the hanger, and left without looking back.

Little did you know, someone was watching as you left the store and headed for the Three Broomsticks.

As the evening rolled in, you bid your farewell to Hermione and headed to your dorm for some peace. Dinner didn't sound that appetising, but sitting in your room as you moped most definitely did. Luckily for you, the common room would be empty at this time, so there was no obstacles to get in the way of feeling sorry for yourself.

Or so you thought.

The common room was empty, as you had presumed, apart from one boy that seemed to be pacing in the middle of it. You recognised him as captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Edward Chambers. As you entered, he stopped his pacing immediately, coming to holt and looking for who had walked in the door. For some reason, a splash of relief fills his features.

"Ah, there you are," he says, a smile curling at his lips, "I've been waiting for you."

"Excuse me?" you knit your eyebrows together. Edward appears to wipe his palms against his robes, before striding across the space to you. When he reached a comfortable distance, you noticed how utterly nervous he was. A unsettled feeling begins to swirl in your stomach.

"I hope you don't think bad of me," he begins, "I was planning this for a while but I'm afraid my nerves got the better of me," he chuckles nervously, and the feeling in your stomach intensifies as he waves his wand, flowers appearing out of thin air, "Y/N, if you have yet to find a date for the dance this coming weekend, then I would be honoured to take you. Will you be my date?"

Your voice gets stuck in your throat. Edward wasn't a stranger, but he wasn't a friend, either, just a boy that you knew from passing and sharing the same coloured robes. He was tall and well built from Quidditch, soft brown locks and set of lovely green eyes. It wasn't uncommon for him to get asked on dates, in fact he was rather popular with the girls. You would have never in a million years have expected him to take a liking to you.

Yet here he was, holding a beautiful bouquet of roses, almost shaking in anticipation.

"Edward," you breathe, clearly in shock, "I had no idea that you-"

"I've kept it quiet," he then rushes out, "and I should have approached you sooner, but I'm asking you now. I- I just really like you, Y/N."

It was all so sudden, that your head felt light and your legs like jelly. How could you say no? It'd be like kicking a kitten. You swallow thickly, thoughts of Draco rushing through your head as you stare at the pretty boy in front of you. 

"I, uh, need to think about it?"

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits

[aidaronan]

✨Fic Writing Review 2023✨

Tagged by the incomparable @greatunironic and my beloved @wynnyfryd.

Words and Fics

58, 889 words published on ao3

Plus at least 14,975 or so words of unpublished things that are started and incomplete.

At least 30 new ideas and/or WIPs.

8 published fics on ao3 + some new additions to the drabble/ficlet collection + many tumblr fics/microfics

One completed collab with @sparkle-fiend and one collab (two really) with @sparklyslug in the works

Two monsterfucker fics influenced by the Steddie FanExpo NoLa crew and getting crossfaded as fuck in the French Quarter after meeting Guiseppe Quintilliano.

Top 3 by kudos

Cassiopeia, Orion, Bootes (aka he was a gator boi) Like I Always Do (post-starcourt hurt comfort) Nothing Hurts (Like Your Mouth) (oops! all monsters. vamp eddie and were steve banging in a mausoleum)

Fandom Events in 2023

Lex's Spicy Six Spring Fanworks Challenge

Multiple @steddiemicrofic challenges: read here.

Upcoming Projects

Two Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang fics. Hilariously, neither of them are Steddie as the main pairing, but I think at least one is likely to hit novella length. I can't say a lot due to secrecy, but I feel safe saying one is a gen fic and one is f/f.

One tiny baker!steve/rockstar!eddie collab with @sparklyslug, hopefully out this holiday season.

One bigger collab with @sparklyslug in the spring if we keep our enthusiasm together long enough.

Will keep trying to plug away at the witches fic. I have, admittedly, lost some enthusiasm for them but I do know where the story is going. If you love this one, please be loud at me but in a non-demanding way lmao. I need you.

Two Fandom Trumps Hate fills of at least 10k for @withacapitalp and my dearest, Andi.

Eddie Bio project.

???Who Knows??? But there will probably be monstercock involved.

Some personal chat, rules, and tags under the cut.

Doing some oversharing because I'm starting to think it's vital that we all are honest about our struggles so we don't feel alone and so we know we're not failures. We're just people.

It's been a low production year for me. It's been a difficult year in general, but sometimes change is hard even when it's change you need.

Over half my year was eaten up with job hunting, moving, and trying to adjust while feeling the depressive effects of not having a local friend/support network yet or enough money for whatever the fuck the economy is, esp in this area relative to my salary. A good deal of my body of works for 2023 were written pre-move. Hell, a good deal of them were written in the first quarter. (Which, btw, shout out to anyone else who often feels a bittersweet sort of regret at not being productive in the current internet environment where you feel like you're old news if you can't keep up an unsustainable output. I love you, same, it's prob not true anyway, and here are 200 forehead kisses. <33) All of that said, I'm feeling much better lately. I've been reading again. Writing again. Feeling like I'm living again. I'm looking forward to another arbitrary border of time and on filling that border with joy, especially queer joy and weird joy and the intersection of both of those. As they say: let's fucking gooo.

I still love it here. I know steddie won't be forever for me, just like other ships before them weren't forever for me. But I'm having fun and have been really enjoying some of the connections made in this little sandbox.

On that note:

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please do eat glass, I’ve heard it’s good for your gums. Tagging, even though I know some people have already been tagged: @sparklyslug, @wormdebut, @banannabethchase, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @messessentialist @rainbow-nerdss @plutosrose @thefreakandthehair and anyone else. @ everyone who keeps this fandom rippin' and roarin', kissing you, kissing you, kissing you

[eisforeidolon]

I feel fans should be able to interpret shows and characters any way they want but it really bothers me that shippers die on the hill of Dean is such a closeted bi sexual and Sam is the biggest heterosexual out there. I love these characters because they are extremely toxic and codependent on each other. The story would not be the same with out that. Why would anyone look to Supernatural to be their all time gay representation love story when it most obviously is not. it just blows my mind how out there Destiel shippers are and how much they truly hate this show and hate Dean without even realizing it. I need someone to figure out how we can get rid of them from this fandom...LOL

Yeah, IDGI either. Fandom is supposed to be about just having fun however you want with the building blocks from the canon + your imagination. It's not even the main point that they're hilariously bad at interpretation, project too hard onto the characters to even see them, can't understand context to save their lives, pointedly ignore a million things that directly contradict their agenda, and too much of their so-called proof is actually gross backwards stereotypes about sexuality and masculinity (neither of which they seem to understand very well at all). If they were just having fun with it, who the fuck cares? Sure, it's annoying, but a lot of fandom is annoying because it is so specifically tailored to things not everyone is gonna like. There are other canons with fans who are fine admitting they just like playing in the canon world but not the canon itself that much.

No, the problem is hellers are not content to just enjoy their non-canon interpretations in fandom. They feel entitled to flood any and every tag associated with the show, trying to demand their interpretations be considered indisputably canon fact because ... reasons ... and anyone who doesn't agree with them is A Bad Person because ... they say so. Their ship is the greatest love story (n)ever told, the best representation evar in media! It's the only important thing about SPN - and if they couldn't change the canon, they can change the fandom narrative! The fact there's actually no there there under their overblown thousands upon thousands of words of inept meta is why the very suggestion it's not canon, that someone doesn't see it as the greatest thing ever, that maybe Dean is actually just a heterosexual instead of putting on an elaborate performance of one or even that Sam might not be the straightest character ever written? Is taken as an attack upon their self-declared status as the real main audience. Which makes sense, because they never were. SPN was anything but subtle as to what its actual focal relationship was.

To some extent I get how they echo-chambered each other into believing their ship was/would be a thing in canon. If you just look at the size of the piles on piles of cherry-picked nonsense they accumulated over the years without actually engaging your brain to see how variously flimsy, out of context, or how many other more sensible interpretations there were for any of them? If you wanted to believe and surrounded yourself with others who did, too, and kept talking each other up, spending way more time doing that than watching the show? It's no wonder some of them ended up with really skewed expectations.

What I don't get is how they're still going this long after the show ended. SPN is over and there's no more 'Well, next season for sure!' to promise themselves. There are increasingly more stories out there now in a variety of media which are centering deliberately, openly LGBT+ characters and relationships they could invest in championing! Hell, just saying screw canon and burying themselves in writing their idea of "better" fanfic is a perfectly reasonable way to deal with disappointment, no matter how self-inflicted. Instead, they're still here making up elaborate conspiracies about how SPN was something other than what it blatantly obviously always was - because admitting they were wrong and the only thing they ever liked about it was their own OOC fanfic very, very loosely based off of it? Well, that's more than a bit embarrassing in light of how long they spent campaigning and how vehement they were about it totally being not just A Thing but The Most Important Thing Ever. So I don't know what would actually get them to move on, they clearly love being miserable and wrong and pretending to be martyrs over it far too much for me to comprehend.

[karizard-ao3]

Hi Karizard! Just finished reading Clueless Teens in like … two sittings - it’s legit the best school caste au fic I’ve come across, i love it so much. I know Eremika is the main focus but holy shit ur Aruani is! So sweet! 😭 Would you ever consider writing more Aruani stuff in the future?

Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I tend to include Aruani as a side ship in my longer fics. They feature in Anamnesis but I didn't tag them as a ship because they do not have a happy ending together and it's pretty much just solid angst between them throughout lol.

I'm still working on finishing my single parents au wip, but Aruani are the other couple in it. They, of course, don't show up as much as Eremika, but they are in it and they deal with changes to their relationship due to becoming new parents.

I'm going to share a little snippet, as a treat (also, I'm chomping at the bit to get this finished and posted, so I want very badly to share scenes and whatnot).

Here, Armin and Annie bring their baby on his first outing, meeting up with Eren, Mikasa, and their kids at the playground.

BEGIN SCENE!

Annie made sure Alexander was secure in his sling while Armin grabbed the diaper bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

"Is he okay in there?" he fretted. "You're sure he won't fall out or smother?"

"Maybe the sling wasn't a good idea…" said Annie, looking up at the other families occupying the playground near Eren and Mikasa’s houses. "Maybe bringing him out at all wasn't a good idea…" 

She bit her lip and glanced over towards where Eren and Mikasa were watching their kids play. Mason was running back and forth across the play structure’s bridge, doing spin kicks at each landing, while Adriana squealed and hollered because Eren was wiping her nose when she wanted to play. She had been a snotty, coughing mess all morning, he’d warned them, adding, “But don’t worry. The doctor said she’s not contagious, just gross.”

So maybe Adri wasn't an infection risk, but what about all these other kids? Annie held Alexander protectively against her body. He made a grunting sound, bobbing his fists and looking up at her. She glanced down at him just in time to see his face screw up and relax as he farted. Her heart swelled. "We're going to bring you home so none of these rowdy little shits can get you sick," she cooed. 

Alexander grunted again, not comprehending but pleased to be part of the conversation.

"Armin, we're going," said Annie.

"Sounds good!" said Armin, opening the car door he had just closed and stowing the diaper bag back inside.

Across the park lawn, Mikasa smacked Eren's arm and pointed at them.

"Ope!" he said, setting Adri free and jogging across the grass to the Arlerts. "Don't even think about it!" he said, stopping next to them. "You told us you were going crazy stuck at home. Now that the baby has his shots and it’s warming up, it's time for you two to get out of the house. He’ll be fine. You don’t need to keep him in a bubble."

"Look," said Armin. "I know it probably seems like we're being excessive to you, but you don't know what it's like having a child with medical issues."

Eren gaped at him. “Seriously?”

"What?" said Armin. "You don't."

"My kid literally can't breathe without daily steroids and gets bronchitis multiple times a year," said Eren, his eyebrows dropping into a dangerous line across his face. "What is Alexander's chronic illness?"

Armin averted his eyes. 

"Sorry. I didn't hear you. What was it again?" said Eren. He was in a far worse mood than usual.

"Nothing," grumbled Armin. "The doctor gave him a clean bill of health.”

“Oh!” said Eren. “How interesting!” 

“But his immune system is still immature so we have to be careful with him,” Armin persisted.

Eren held up his hands. "Fine. But if you keep sheltering him from everything like this, Alexander is going to turn out like you," he warned.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Armin demanded. "My parents did a great job!"

Annie reached past him to open the car door and get the diaper bag back out. “I guess a little fresh air and sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

Armin turned to look at her, the betrayal evident all over his face. 

"I love you so much, baby," she said. "Just the way you are."

"That's not really what it seems like right now!" said Armin.

"No, really!" said Annie. "You're so intelligent and handsome and talented!"

"But?" said Armin, folding his arms.

"No buts," said Annie, heading towards Mikasa. "It's just that my dad didn't coddle me at all and I'm much less…"

"Much less what?" said Armin, scowling and chasing after her.

"Um... Prissy," said Annie. 

“We are talking more about this at home,” said Armin.

“Yes, dear,” said Annie.

“Tan I see the baby?” Adri squealed as soon as she noticed the Arlerts had finally joined them, chugging down the play structure steps as fast as her little legs could carry her and wiping her snot on her pudgy wrist.

Annie closed her eyes, took a deep, stabilizing breath and kneeled down so Adri could see Alexander. 

“Hello little Aleskander!” Adri said, then sneezed in his face, spraying him in spit.

Alexander gasped, his eyes popping open wide and his arms flinging out to his sides. “Oh, god…” groaned Annie.

Armin glared at Eren.

“Sorry little guy! I promise she’s not contagious,” said Eren, snatching his backpack from the ground and pulling out a pack of wipes. Alexander’s fists were bopping a mile a minute. His run-in with Adri had been very exciting. Eren held out the pack of wipes for Annie and she extracted one, using it to clean her son’s face while he aired his grievances in a thin wail. He was no longer enjoying his grand adventure now that it included being subjected to torture. 

“He’s crying,” Mason observed, skipping toward them to see the new baby. “Maybe he’s hungry. Mom, can I have a snack?”

“Tan I have one, too?” said Adri.

“I might have something,” said Mikasa. She hadn’t packed anything besides her and Mason’s lunches because they were going to be eating so soon but she might have a bag of chips or a protein bar in her purse that the kids could split.

“I’ll give Aleskander his bottle,” Adri said, putting her hands on her hips and inspecting the baby with an officious nod. “I’s going to take very good care of him.”

Mason grabbed his hair. “You know what? I can’t take it anymore, Adriana!” he shouted. “It’s I’m! Not I’s! You are saying it wrong! You say everything wrong! How can you be so dumb?”

"Mason!" said Mikasa.

Adriana’s face twisted with rage and she punched him.

“Ow!” Mason yelped. “She hit me!”

“Adriana May Jaeger!” Eren barked.

“I think she gave me internal bleeding,” Mason moaned, doubling over and clutching his stomach.

“He said I’s dumb!” Adriana howled.

“I’m,” Mason screeched. “You’re supposed to say I’m! Did you learn to talk at upside-down school?”

“I’s! Too! Little! For! Stool!” Adriana shrieked, punching him again.

“My organs!” Mason wailed.

“Kids with busted organs don’t get to play at the playground,” said Mikasa, sifting through her giant bag with greater urgency. Maybe if their mouths were occupied with chewing, the kids would stop screaming at each other. “Kids with busted organs have to go to the hospital.”

Mason eyed her, then straightened with theatrical uncertainty, patting his abdomen. “Hey! It doesn’t hurt anymore! ” he said as if he were as shocked by the news as any of them. “I’m okay!”

“A miracle,” said Mikasa.

END SCENE!