#i hope this is any sort of prompt y'all can work with

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #44

If anyone asked, Danny would say it was because he was in the right place at the right time. That's how most success stories are, really. Luck. Bad luck, good luck, either way.

He had just so happened to be touring at that specific facility when the aliens began to attack. He hadn't hesitated. He snuck away, transformed, and began to do what he could to save lives. Aliens weren't part of his normal rogue gallery, but he managed.

Then, other heroes appeared. Batman, Superman, Flash, and some heroes he didn't recognize. Danny hadn't even introduced himself before they started fighting together.

In the end, after multiple battles and planning, they won. Somehow, they came out on the other end victorious. Danny had thought that would be the end of his meeting with these heroes.

Until he got invited to a space base and was asked to form a team. A Justice League. How could Danny do anything but accept?

[necrotic-nephilim]

your Kon post was sooooo good, like yes the core four are queer platonic, however Kon is hypersexual enough to have made out with (or more) everyone in young justice at least once, yes, including the non-corporal Greta don’t ask me how that worked

I love all of these posts!!! how many of these ask game things do you have in your inbox??

thank you so much!! and i ABSOLUTELY agree with you on hypersexual Kon (truly i just adore characters with grooming/rape trauma like Kon coping through the lense of hypersexuality) and even if YJ is queerplatonic, Kon has made his way through most of them. including Greta. he's creative he'd find a way. probably involving TTK. bc TTK in sex is a thought i have daily. endless potential for using it to basically turn someone's body into a living fleshlight he can manipulate from the inside out- specifically have a TimKonBart idea in my head about that where Kon coaches Bart through sex, since Bart is a speedster with a bonkers refractory period who struggles to feel satisfied, and Tim is caught between them getting used to get Bart off with Kon using TTK to manipulate Tim's body. fun times. fun ideas.

currently, i have one more ask game ask in my inbox (tho always feel free to send more!) that's BruJay focused. though i *do* also have a couple other asks that are just ideas i pan to use as prompts for full fics. just haven't gotten to those yet bc i'm currently busy with packing to move states so. i have *not* had the time to write i wish i had. i will not reveal too much but one involves JayTim fucking during the Titans Tower incident, another is JayTim with animal traits leading to porn, and then another is Tim/Kon/Jon with incest kink stuff. so! i have many things planned, i just need to settle into my new place, however long that takes.

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝. 」 ⋆

toji's tired and doesn't feel like hearing you run your mouth in the passenger's seat of his car. so you find other ways to occupy yourself.

pairing. — toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count. — 893

content. — nsfw (18+ only), established relationship, daddy kink, toji's a lil mean (duh), pet names (baby, babygirl, little girl), finger sucking, masturbation (f), brief mention of penetrative sex.

notes. — i have toji brainrot so bad rn y'all it's not even funny. so i had to write this while working tonight LMAO i just needed to get it out of my brain. hope you enjoy <3

It’s late, and the back roads are lit up only by the headlights as the two of you skirt around curves in his expensive car. You’d bet money that you’re going well over the designated speed limit, because Toji, despite being exhausted from a long day, is still fulfilling his habit of being on the brink of reckless driving. The air is cool where he has the driver’s side window down to let the smoke from his cigarette stream out, and he’s silent as you seemingly burst with energy next to him.

You’ve been rambling on for a few minutes now about something you’ve been particularly excited about as of late, chatting your tired boyfriend’s ear off without realizing it. The low hum of the radio hardly even gets to make itself known beneath your continuous jubilant speech.

“And I can’t believe that—”

“Baby,” Toji’s voice is raised just the slightest bit to overpower yours, cutting you off before you can go on. You watch as he inhales and exhales his final breath of smoke, flicking the cigarette butt outside and rolling up the window. “Can you do daddy a favor and shut your fuckin’ mouth for a minute?”

You can finally hear the radio now that silence sweeps over you and you’re able to absorb the nonchalant harshness of his words. It doesn’t affect you too badly, however. He’s always like this. 

But narrowing your eyes into a half-hearted glare, you declare coldly in his direction, “You’re mean.”

The both of you know that you aren’t exactly heartbroken, nor are you entirely serious with your angry pout and juvenile words, so Toji speaks just as apathetically as before, “Yeah, well cry me a river over it, little girl.” He reaches a calloused hand over to roughly squeeze at your knee. It hurts a little, and there’s no smile from him nor a laugh, but you’re fully aware that it’s his way of being somewhat sadistically playful, attempting to dismantle any potential hard feelings.

Toji loosens his grip but leaves his hand there, letting you feel its warmth against your chilled skin. His fingers are so large and picturesque in a rugged sort of way, thumb stroking absentmindedly as his gaze continues to pierce ahead at the road. It’s so quiet that you suddenly feel the urge to be a little impish; maybe there are other things you can do with your mouth besides talk.

Taking him by the wrist and forearm, you guide his hand up to slide two big fingers between your lips, soaking them in the saliva that freshly pools in your mouth. He tastes like salt and nicotine, all too familiar against the flat of your tongue, and it prompts you to start a gentle suck. Toji smirks and huffs at the feeling of your hot mouth around him, muscles flexing but resisting the impulse to fuck his fingers forward until the tips hit the back of your throat. Instead, he lets you occupy yourself with your ability to take full control.

This new sense of quiet is oddly like music to his ears, only interrupted by the occasional suckling noise and the tiny hums you make in between them. “That’s a good girl,” he drawls and praises with a wicked smile on his face, pressing his fingers down against your tongue for only a moment and stealing a glance over at you as he does so. Then he starts to laugh. "Shit, I shoulda had you doin' this ten minutes ago. Shuts you up nice and good, doesn't it?"

You remove his hand long enough to take a breath and reply, perhaps with a hint of defiance, “Yes, daddy.” It makes his cock twitch when you say it like that.

Toji chuckles again. "That was a rhetorical question, babygirl, but I like where your mind’s at." He never intended for you to stop sucking or being quiet, but he’s too delighted to be bothered by it in the least.

After another minute of working until your tongue is almost sore, the heat between your thighs has increased to an intolerable amount, leaving you yearning for more than just the solution to an oral fixation. You weasel a hand down to work through fabric until a fingertip can gather some slick and swirl it around your clit, causing your cunt to clench and throat to moan around Toji’s fingertips. His head turns to look as you do so, jaw slack, and the car swerves a bit after he loses his focus on driving.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna run me off the road.” He grits his teeth and pulls his fingers from your mouth, gently gripping you by the jaw as he takes a moment to correct the steering wheel. Once on another straight path, Toji looks back over at you stroking your clit and presses his thumb past your lips and onto your tongue. You look at him with furrowed brows and moan, drool now spilling down your chin. 

“Screw this,” he mutters, deciding he’s finally had enough. Within a second he’s pulling the car off the side of the road without warning, throwing it into park and undoing your seat belt with haste.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you sitting nice and pretty on his cock, and he’s not complaining about the noise this time.

[fuckyeahfraxus]

Finally, this is the official post for the seventh

F R A X U S   D A Y!

Like previous years, Fraxus Day will be celebrated on November 5th!

We had thrown out a small notification post before but we are still sorry that this official post is released with such a delay! We still hope that everyone is looking forward to the day and wants to participate with different sorts of content <3

As usual there will not be a particular prompt for this day, as opposed to the ship week. You can use whatever theme or idea that comes to mind.

However, we do again invite you to pre-celebrate Fraxus Day with us on Halloween, October 31th! Feel free to tag us in any Halloween Fraxus content you create, and we will make sure to reblog it!

Of course, feel free to share Halloween Fraxus and Fraxus Day Fraxus on separate days. Or post a Halloween themed Fraxus Day entry. Or only post a Halloween edition! Everything is possible, we just wanna dedicate the day to this wonderful ship and celebrate.

Either way, you may use the #fraxusday tag for any entries you post on October 31st and/or November 5th, Halloween themed or not!

As usual we, the admins of fuckyeahfraxus, will be hosting this day Although there are no specific prompts, we do ask you to read the rules if you’re not familiar with them or need a reminder.

Everyone is allowed to participate and basically every sort of entry is allowed! Art, fanfic, edits, headcanons, playlists, aesthetics, … everything! Just make sure that it has to do with Fraxus and does not imply something else, something negative, other rivalled ships or trigger topics like non-consensual stuff. There’s also basic things we usually do not reblog on this blog due to certain reasons; basically anything that has to do with harmful stereotyping.

Please make sure to put either fraxusday or fraxus day in the first five tags of your entry! fraxus will suffice, too, if you forget to tag it otherwise but using the first two named tags will make it easier for us to find the entries for this day. Submitting your work to this blog will be perfectly alright as well if that’s how you’d rather want to participate.

Almost each kind of entry is allowed, just please make sure to avoid explicit nsfw content. If you want to submit something suggestive or bordering on nsfw, that’s fine.

Don’t worry about being late! Late entries are always welcome, no matter how late they may be.

Do not steal other people’s art or writing or whatever it may be! That won’t be accepted and that applies not only to this day but in general. This type of behavior won't be tolerated. The same goes for edited artwork, unless you have the explicit permission of the original author to do so.

That's it! Please do boost the hell out of this official post so all the people who may not have heard of this day or were not aware of the date and want to participate get the note! Thank you all so much for your continuous support, despite real life struggles we will try our best not to let this blog die. Love y'all and our dms are always open.

Stay safe and much love, your fuckyeahfraxus team! <3

credit for the art goes to the absolutely amazing @ccrispy who I commissioned for Fraxus Week in Summer for the prompt 'Blood and Wine'. please go support her if you can! 🥰

[plasticfangtastic]

My Masterlist

Howdy my name is Kay and I write fics for the boys (mostly just Homelander centric) this is a directory of my old and new fics, any projects am working on have worked on can be found here.

I hate short stories and I write long Chapters, I love Butchlander and Butchie content.

I'm currently on a writing hiatus

Old pin post with the following works can be found here:

Of The same Poisonous Ilk (A Butchlander/self-cest fic-- on hiatus)

Building Blocks (a Butchlander fic-- on hiatus)

Anybody Else Won't do (An Ashlander fic-- on hiatus)

Can We be Lonely Together (A HL x reader fic or Homelander x Joe Goldberg from YOU fic-- completed)

American Royalty (A dadlander x reader fic with a homelander daughter OC-- completed)

Carnivorous Lamb (A Homelander x Male! OC priest kink/ntr fic-- completed)

Thicker than Water (A Soldier Boy x Homelander fic-- one-shot)

No Codiciaras los bienes ajenos (A HL x Ashley x Butcher fic-- one-shot)

Behind the Scenes (A Hometek fic)

When the Lion loved the lamb (A HL x Male oc prequel to Carnivorous lamb one-shot)

This wasnt in the job description (An Ashlander fic one-shot)

My current fics:

Quiet Room-- A Homelander fic about him and Jonah Voguelbaum going to see Shrek.

A Garden Without Impurity-- Homelander X GN Reader fic, he is a polygamist and reader is his favorite spouse

Lemon Scented Messes-- A Butchie fanfic (my first one ever)

Charred Steaks-- A Butchlander fic short and sweet involving a partially depowered Homelander

Thank you for reading!

[lincolndjarin]

The Dragonfly & The Moon

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day nine - afab!witch!reader x joel miller

prompt : blood drinking [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.9k

summary : you and joel decide to take the next step in your relationship.

warnings, etc. : language, knives, cutting, ritualistic sex, religious symbols, blood, consensual violence, blood drinking (surprise surprise), gore, sort of body horror i suppose, premature ejaculation, and i used the middle name i head canon for joel whoops

a/n : hello my lovelies, i just finished this up before work i hope y'all enjoy this silly little story

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re okay with this?” You set each blade down in front of him, letting him watch as you soak each one in alcohol. He’s sitting up on the table, knees bent, elbows resting on his thighs.

“I did say I wanted to participate in your hobbies more.” He keeps his eyes on each one, you know he’s nervous despite the act he’s putting on but you just want him to be comfortable. 

“This is a bit more than a hobby.” You set the final blade down on the cloth, walking around the table to take his hand in yours.

“I really want to, I promise.” He murmurs before bringing your hand to his face, placing a kiss to your palm. 

He’s wanted to get married for ages now but you’ve been reluctant. It’s not that you don’t love him, of course you do, you’re just so… different. He’s a traditional man. He wants the wedding and the house with a white picket fence and the kids and the growing old together on a porch swing, and you want to live in the woods and sacrifice virgins to your dark lord. 

But hey, opposites attract. (At least that’s what he says every time you try to have this conversation.)

And while he isn’t fond of your so-called hobbies, he’s been understanding. (Although it took a lot of convincing. He refused to believe you until you cut your own hand off and walked it across the table to him before promptly reattaching it.) 

So when he got down on one knee you couldn’t say yes. Since then he’s been adamant that he be more involved in your life, desperate to prove that this could work. 

Initially you’d told him you were busy tonight, your lord required an act of depravity as sacrifice and he’d been all too eager to offer to help. 

He looks less eager now that he’s face to face with several of your blades. 

“You really don’t have to do this-“

“I’m doing this. End of story.” You arch an eyebrow at his stern tone but nod. 

“Okay. Take off your shirt.” You pick up the cloth with your knives on it, moving it to the counter as he unbuttons his denim top. He tosses it onto the chair as you light a few more candles around the room before lifting your sweater over your head and throwing it on top of his shirt, turning to him in just your bra and skirt. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He mumbles as you pick through the knives before settling on your favorite, a double edged small blade, the handle is shaped like a dragonfly. 

“You have to pick one.” You turn so he can see the selection. 

“I’ll take the one on the far left.” He nods in its direction as you take it by the blade, holding it out to him. You’re a bit surprised by his pick as you watch him examine the boline knife, tracing the curve with his finger before setting it on the table next to him. 

You whisper a quiet prayer to yourself in latin, praying not just to your god to accept this sacrifice, but also to make this easier on your partner. You can think of several occasions where he had chosen to be especially cruel and a small part of you is aware of just how dangerous this situation is for Joel but you push that down, ignoring it. 

You put the blade between your teeth, holding it in place as you climb up onto the table, straddling his lap before putting your hands on his chest, pushing him down flat onto the cold wood. You look down at him one last time, looking for any signs of resistance, when you see only determination in his eyes you whisper one last prayer before letting your own eyes roll back, feeling something darker course through your veins as it takes over. Your vision is clouded when you look back down at him and you know all he sees from them is white. You tenderly take the knife from between your teeth, spinning it in your hand. 

“Still good?” This time when you mumble you’re vaguely aware of the fact that your voice is being layered with another, much deeper voice, his eyebrows shoot up in confusion but he just nods. 

No reason to put this off any longer, you take his hand, entwining your fingers and lifting his arm up. You take the blade, gently drawing it across the side of his forearm, making an incision about four inches in length, watching as the thin line of red appears in its wake. You see his jaw tense but he doesn’t flinch. He gasps as you lean forward, dragging your tongue across the wound. You let out a shuddering moan as the sweet metallic tang coats your tongue. 

You went over the ritual in great detail with him beforehand. You explained everything you would be doing and everything that would be expected of him but his eyes still wide with surprise as you begin to lick his wound, not wanting to waste any of him, you feel the bitter, sweet liquid settling in your stomach, sending a flood of warmth through you.

You try not to be too loud but when you’re in this state your inhibitions are lowered, he tastes like heaven and you can’t contain yourself as you raise your blade once more, slicing him horizontally, making a cross on his skin. You watch the crimson bloom as you hold him still. The sight of it makes your pussy ache as you lean forward, lapping at the bleeding cross as you subconsciously grind your hips against his.

In a moment of weakness you bend down, biting his shoulder hard enough to pierce his skin, sucking in harshly as you drink him in.

“Christ…” He mumbles, gripping your waist as you recoil. 

“Fuck-“ You hiss. “Don’t say that, it makes you go sour.” You wipe the excess gore from your mouth on the back of your hand as he gives you an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize.” You watch how the blood rushes to his face, his cheeks flushing a divine shade of red. You can’t help it when you tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place, you aren’t in control anymore. You’re extremely precise in your movements as you carve a rune into the sun kissed skin of his cheek, careful not to go deep enough to scar. Once you’re pleased with your work you let out a content sigh before flattening your tongue against it. Thanks to the quick incantation he’s gone sweet again, an almost bitter sweetness that overwhelms your senses. “Jus’ a little more.” You mumble in your intoxicated state as you languidly drag the shimmering blade down the center of his chest. 

He inhales sharply once but when he realizes you aren’t applying any pressure he relaxes some. Much to your delight you feel a stirring beneath you, you angle your hips instinctually to rest your throbbing cunt against the substantial bulge forming in his pants. 

“Joel Arthur Miller, are you actually getting off on this?” He doesn’t respond, simply blushing harder as you scorn him with a breathy laugh, raising your knife again you press it into the soft flesh of his chest, tracing patterns into the salt and peppered hairs sprinkled across his sternum before finally digging the blade into the meat of his pectoral, a spray of blood gushing up at you. Your face is flecked with gore as your mouth falls open to eagerly lap up the rosy ichor, you feel the distinct sensation of his cock straining and twitching in his jeans as you do so, an orgasm fully driven by the pleasure you derive from the vulgarity of the act your performing is forming in your belly. 

As cold and unforgiving as your patron is, he has been known to be generous to his long term subjects, you know he’ll push you over the edge just like this if you’d like. 

And he does. Your teeth sink into the flesh surrounding the wound still spouting blood as you come undone with a snarl, your hips feverish and frantic as you grind against him, the force of your bite drawing more blood. The sensations swelling and filling your entire being consume you one last time as you sharply suck in, a rush of fresh blood flows into your maw and you hungrily drink it all in before finally sitting up with a satisfied look on your face, you chin coated in gore as your eyes return to their usual state. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice has returned to normal now as you search his eyes for a sign that this crossed a line but you never find it.

Joel still doesn’t speak, he merely stares at you in awe, nodding. 

“Your turn.” Your voice echoes throughout the house as he sits up, keeping you firmly in his lap as he grabs his chosen knife, bringing it between the two of you. “Remember, you can do it anywhere.” You murmur, anxious to feel the cool steel against you. He slides the curved blade down your sternum, hooking it on your bra.

“And I only have to drink a little for your spell, right?” His voice is quiet, he sounds positively enamored with you as his nearly black eyes stare into yours. 

“You only have to drink a drop if that’s what you want.” You cradle his face in your hands, he draws a hushed gasp from you as he slices through the center clasp of your bra, letting it fall before tossing it to the floor. He’s far more delicate than you were, opting to not pierce your flesh just yet. Instead he just traces little shapes into the curves and valleys of your chest. You bite back a moan as he runs the blade along the outline of your nipple before finally drawing blood on your shoulder.

One clean horizontal line, only an inch deep but six inches in length, the moment he’s made the incision he tosses his own blade aside, latching onto you. His hips stutter and his tongue traces the gash wildly and with a fervor you’ve never seen from him before. He isn’t deterred in the slightest by the fact that your blood runs a crimson so dark it basically runs a shimmering black, he just drinks, lewd slurping sounds fill the kitchen followed by an inhumane groan from your partner and in an abrupt instant a soft howl fills the space and the candles go out, both of you freezing in place.

“Shit, I guess we did it?” You sit up a bit, feeling a little confused as you light a small flame in your palm. “That usually doesn’t happen until the ritual’s done…” You furrow your brows as you look at him in the flickering light, a sheepish expression on his face before it clicks for you. “Wait, did you-”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, you reach down between the two of you and sure enough the front of his pants are soaked in a warm dampness, his cock now soft. 

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” You can’t help but grin as you lean forward, kissing the bridge of his nose. 

Maybe opposites do attract.

a/n : happy oct 9th :)

[littlerat2]

Pillows

@prinxietyweek

Prinxiety Week Day 5

Prompt: Pillows

Warnings: None

Words: 1174

AO3

Author’s Note: So sorry this is late, y'all. I had a busy day, and I still hadn't edited it, but here it is! Only like, twenty minutes after midnight LMAO

Roman smiled down at his boyfriend. The two were laying on Roman's bed, Virgil draped over Roman's legs and head resting on Roman's stomach like a pillow. He was sound asleep, arms wrapped under Roman's torso in a way that ensured they would be numb when he woke up. Roman's laptop rested on Virgil's shoulder blades as he typed away.

They'd do this a few times a week. Virgil would catch up on sleep while Roman worked on a story or poem. It was the most peaceful part of Roman's day. He could just relax into his writing with his melted boyfriend on his stomach.

He was just starting to get into the groove of writing when heard a knock at the door. 

"Just a second," he called softly, not wanting to wake Virgil. He pulled his comforter over the smaller man's head, waiting to see if he stirred. When he didn't, Roman called back. "Okay, you can come in."

The others didn’t know they were dating. Virgil wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet, and Roman prioritized Virgil’s comfort over wanting to show off his sweet boyfriend.

He’d talked to the others when Virgil was asleep like this. He was usually out cold by the time anyone wanted to talk to him, so nobody questioned much movement under the covers.

The door swung open slowly, and Roman smiled and waved as Patton took a step or two inside the doorway.

“Hello, Padre! What can I do for you?” He asked with a soft smile.

“Hey, Ro. I just wanted to see if you’ve seen Virgil? I haven’t seen him much today and I just want to be sure he’s okay.”

“I think he said something about taking a nap,” Roman said, trying not to smile at the sleepy bundle of eyeshadow and hair dye dozing on his stomach. He wasn’t technically lying. Virgil did say something about taking a nap. He just left out the part where he looked pointedly at Roman when he said it. He left out the part where Roman left soon after to find Virgil curled up in his bed. And he left out the part where Virgil was still dead to the world on his stomach under his huge, red, faux feather comforter.

“Oh, that’s good,” Patton chirped, the worried pinch in his browline evening out. “He seemed really tired this morning.”

“Yeah. I’m glad he’s getting some rest.”

Roman expected that to be the end of their conversation, but Patton came and sat on the side of his bed. He didn’t quite mind. He liked talking to Patton. He just hoped the shift in the mattress didn’t wake Virgil.

“What’cha writing?” Patton asked with a smile. Roman lit up, opening his mouth to share, but closed it before any words escaped.

He looked at the purple text on the screen staring back at him. The mushy words he’d written about Virgil in his poetry document when his brain wouldn’t focus on anything else.

“Ro?” Patton’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Right! Sorry. This one… this one isn’t ready to share just yet. But I’ve got something else I’ve been looking for feedback on, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

“Of course!” Patton beamed excitedly. He always seemed to like reading Roman’s work, whether it be a poem, a story, or something else.

 Roman scrolled up to a different part of the document. This one was still about Virgil, but much less specific. Patton probably wouldn’t be able to tell who it was about, and he had been looking for some feedback on it. He’d written it for Virgil months ago, but still hadn’t shown it to him yet. He was nervous. He wanted it to be perfect.

He changed the text color to black, and handed the laptop over to Patton. His eyes scanned over the stanzas, a smile growing as he read. Once he finished, he handed it back.

“I love it!” complimented Patton. Roman was expecting the sweet statement to be followed by some sort of feedback, but he was met instead with eyes narrowing mischievously. “So… Who’s it for?”

Roman tensed. He should have seen it coming.

“Well-” He was cut short by rustling under the covers, and Roman froze. Crap. Virgil poked his head out, his hair an adorable mess. He blinked his eyes open sleepily and looked up at Roman, resting his chin on Roman’s sternum. 

“Did you say somethin’, Ro?” He mumbled. He hadn’t noticed Patton yet.

“Uh…” Roman trailed off, eyes darting between Virgil and Patton. Virgil’s sleep riddled brain seemed to have caught up, and he turned his head to look at Patton.

“Oh.” Virgil stared at Patton for a few seconds before laying his head back on Roman’s stomach. He retrieved one of his hands from under Roman’s torso and gave a small wave, before shaking off the static-y numbness. Patton waved back, smiling.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said with a little giggle. He threw the smallest of smug smiles Roman’s way, but his eyes were alight with questions.

Roman looked down at Virgil, who just shrugged. 

“You can tell him, if he doesn’t tell anyone else,” he murmured, already edging closer to sleep again. Maybe it was his drowsy state, but Roman honestly expected panic, or at least apprehension.

“You sure?” Roman whispered, carding a hand through Virgil’s fluffy hair.

“Mhm. Tell me how it goes later.” And with that, Virgil was asleep again, letting out soft snores.

Roman looked at Patton once more. He was leaning on the palm of his hand, now smiling widely. 

“Virgil and I are dating,” Roman whispered with a giddy smile. Patton gave a tiny squeal, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“How long?”

“Like… Three months.”

“Three months?!” Patton exclaimed. Roman shushed him frantically.

“You can’t tell anyone. Virgil isn’t ready and I want to respect that.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Patton reassured.

Virgil stirred on Roman’s lap, mumbling something unintelligible before settling again. Roman couldn’t help the wide smile that broke out over his face. He ran a gentle hand through Virgil’s hair, and he made a content little noise. Roman smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Aww,” Patton cooed. “You two are adorable.”

“Thanks,” Roman said, not taking his eyes off of Virgil. He yawned and closed his laptop. “I think I might take a nap as well. Virgil and I were up late watching YouTube on my laptop.”

“Alrighty. You two get some sleep. I’ll make sure nobody comes looking for you guys for a little bit.” Patton winked, and walked towards the door.

“Thanks, padre,” Roman chuckled. He gently maneuvered himself into a comfortable position with his arms around Virgil, and pulled the covers over them as Patton clicked off the light. When he heard the door latch, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s hair.

“Love you, Virge.”

Virgil didn’t answer, but he nestled closer to Roman in his sleep. Roman smiled. He was glad he got to be Virgil’s pillow.

[knightofhylia]

[system_update.ritual]

A spell I did to renew my energy. I view technology, anatomy, and botany as mirrors to each other and struggle a lot with some of the traditional visualization prompts. This is sort of aimed at robotkins and other technology based kins.

I experiamented using high-vibration crystals and sound energy to cleanse my aura and body of unwanted energy. I did a 20-minute meditation visualizing being put through a cleaning machine.

Materials:

High-vibration crystals, or crystals associated with renewal. Personally, I used Selenite/Satin spar, clear quartz, spirit quartz, citrine, amethyst, Super 7, hematite

Incense. I used cedar for its cleansing properties! A candle works as well, but the secondary purpose is to have a sense of time. My incense stick burns for about 20 minutes so I can smell when it's time to get up lol

Headphones.

Music: Here is the playlist I used for this spell. What you want to put in your playlist are songs chill songs to soak in, ASMR tingles to scrub, music with fast pulses or hard pulses for deep cleaning, sporatic music to scramble the energy, and repeating music to put it back together.

Instructions:

Find a quiet place to lay down such as a yoga mat. Lay the crystals in a pleasing order around the top where your head will rest. The positions do not need to be anything special, personally, I moved mine around as I felt needed throughout the ritual. Set up the incense next to you and light. Choose your playlist, put in your headphones and lie down.

Visualization example:

I imagined being put into a tank by my deities Kitti and Puka. The tank filled with liquid and as the music progressed I was scrubbed and cleansed from my body and was pure aura. I imagined my aura filling the tank as it was run through with jets and screens as it filtered out any old patterns or ways of thinking that I didn't need anymore. Watching those sonic jewelry cleaners is what I was going for. The different vibrations of the songs resonated through the tank and rearranged the energy until my aura solidified into something new and the tank was drained and I was released.

I certainly felt really refreshed afterwards. I recommend doing this before or after a shower so you get the inside out clean. I recommend stretching a bit after this so your aura can reach all your physical body. As a note, I have actually noticed my aura change colour a bit. I've noticed that as the moon and Kvii change my aura reflects who I'm working with.

Hope y'all liked this! Let me know if you try it! This sill probably evolve over a couple years lol

[akela-nakamura]

Akela how much bodily harm would you cause me if I asked about 'Damnit Susi 5 for Akela' 😛

You're a little shit and I should have predicted this.

I haven't opened that doc since you sent it to me and now.

Now I have to actually remember what that was? Rude.

opens doc

oh. Oh fuck right.

DAMMIT.

Alright, so this is the "What if Walker took over Arkham Asylum and simultaneously made it both better and worse." idea. That's not the exact prompt but it's what it boils down too.

(OG prompt, from Tourettesdog is this:  Sick of hearing how frequently inmates escape Arkham (from the ghosts of their victims), Walker decides to take management of the facility into his own hands)

I haven't opened this doc in a bit, nor thought about it, so the thoughts on how this would go are still very vague. But I imagine that Walker starts out pretty reasonable. As far as like. Ghosts go. He hasn't been in the human realm is SO LONG and he knows the Rules are different here but obviously whatever Rules govern Arkham they aren't working.

So he makes better ones. Rules can be adjusted based on the place and he's not dumb enough to apply Ghost Zone Rules to a living realm facility.

But the major problem is Walker runs a prison. And Arkham is supposed to be an asylum. They are not one and the same. At the end of the day, Arkham is sort of set up to try and rehabilitate and release.

And like. Walker's not thinking of that. Or used to that. Ghost Zone prison sentences may not for like, eternity, but they are usually far longer than any human lifetime.

You add in the stories he's heard of these people, and he's not real inclined to let them go.

Unsure how Danny would fit in yet. Whether he's moved to Gotham and gets Sus when no one's heard from a Villain in...weeks or if he hears some GZ gossip and has to go see what's happened now.

Either way, Arkham is very different. Many people were fired (The amount of bribery happening in this place, holy hell) and the inmates are finding it damn near impossible to bribe these new guards. Or wait for them to fall asleep. Or just get bored.

(Which isn't to say you can't bribe a ghost, but I don't think Arkham inmates would have what any of these ghost guards want lol)

Anyway, chaos would ensue. Because it's one of my WIPs.

I hope you enjoyed the ramble. It's not completely thought out yet.

If y'all want to see a list of my WIPs, here you go:

WIP Tag Game

[justonemorewallflower]

Bruises

Fandom: Battlestar Galactica

Pairing: Kara x Lee

Prompt: Bruises

WC: 500

TWs: mentions of ab*se, self-h*rm, bruises, etc.

***

Ever since she had gotten back from New Caprica Lee could tell Kara was different. He didn't know what had happened to her there but he knew something had at least, something that had changed her.

She never talked about it and while he couldn't blame her, he wished she would. That she would open up about it because maybe it would lessen the pain. But he knew that wasn't how Kara worked. She faced her problems and pain alone, she always did her best to make sure to not put them on others, or make them anyone else's problem too.

The first week after she had come back had been the worst. She had been the most different and far off, hard to reach. And he couldn't ignore the bruises.

Someone had hurt her. Abused her. And it pissed him off. He knew it hadn't been Sam but sometimes a part of him had wished it was so she'd have an excuse to leave him and Lee could finally have her, since she had chosen to run instead when he had offered her the idea to finally be together.

There weren't a lot, but it was enough, especially if you looked closely. Especially if you knew Kara like he did. She never let people hurt her, if she could help it. So seeing her as beat up as she was was concerning, to know someone had worn her down enough to the point where she just took the abuse rather than tried to fight it. Where that was the easier option.

And while the injuries were clearly from abuse of some sort he couldn't help but to wonder if any were self inflicted. If she had tried to escape whatever hell she had faced there by attempting to die. If it had been bad enough he knew she probably had. If her spirit had gotten broken beyond repair.

He knew it had because otherwise she would have been making jokes about it after day one. To make light of it, to cope, because that's what she typically did.

But she instead stayed quiet about it and Kara never stayed quiet. She was brash and loud and hated keeping to herself. She always spoke her mind.

She wasn't just staying silent. She was hiding too, and that was even more concerning. She was locking herself away, refusing to talk to anyone and almost seeming scared whenever someone tried to approach her. That was the biggest difference. Kara Thrace never showed fear, but now it seemed to be the only emotion she had left.

Lee knew the physical bruises would go away sooner or later, but the internal ones wouldn't. Those were the ones he was most concerned about.

And while she was avoiding everyone he knew he would have to be the one person to try and heal her wounds. And maybe, if he was lucky, she'd let him.

Maybe he could fix her bruises, once and for all.

***

A little ficlet/quintuple drabble I wrote. Inspired by the word bruises. I feel like this could be a good intro to a longer fic or oneshot. Maybe one day I will add to it. For now though it'll just remain as this as I'm challenging myself to write more drabbles/ficlets because even my one shots usually end up being at least 2k words. I have been physically incapable of writing anything short for Kara and Lee thus far and I'm wanting to change that so this is one of my first attempts. I have another I posted in a Tumblr community and another that is in my Google docs. But that's only 3 (around 1500 words) out of around the total 170,000 words I have written for this pair/fandom. That says a lot haha. I have a tendency to overcomplicate things or at least struggle to write any simple and more vague one shots so I am forcing myself to do exactly that at least a little bit more. So far I like the results and hope I can keep coming up with good ones. I will be posting this on AO3 as well within the next day or so just y'all are aware haha. Feel free to let me know your thoughts too :)

[mirkwoodmunson]

mid-west monster #1

werewolf!eddie munson x reader

you’ve been with eddie munson for a few months now, and while you knew the boy harbored some secrets — you weren’t aware just how hairy things were about to get

tw: cursing, body horror(? i think?)

a/n: for writeober i’ll be attempting to do (hopefully) daily drabbles, each one a progression of this fic and based around a generated prompt! feel free to send any in as well if you’d like to inspire future installments! happy halloween! LMAO anyway.... i abandoned this wip in early oct. when i realized i should maybe focus on my big move instead of writing, kept getting sad looking at it sitting in my drafts so i decided to slap on a quick sort-of-ending and just post it cause... i love werewolf!eddie so fucking much y'all ;; he'd be the scruffiest stankiest doggo bf and i'm HERE FOR IT. not sure if this'll be continued as past me suggested but if it gets some traction i'd look into progressing the story! hope you enjoy!

Your knuckles are a ghostly white, latched to the steering wheel where your thumb rubs hard into the frayed edge of the wheel cover, anxious and tense. Eddie had been radio silent for the third day now, Hellfire had gathered in the hopes that maybe he’d make some dramatic entrance after working on the materials for this session — but no Dungeon Master had shown his mischievous grin. You’d called and called, stopped by but Wayne had solemnly sent you off each time, assuring you his boy was fine — just going through a rough illness. Maybe it was selfish to think but it made you angry, if he was sick he could still pick up a phone, right? It was the honeymoon stage yet, you’d only started dating a few months back and you could admit you had a tendency to cling to him, but to be fair he seemed to be clinging to you, too. Till now, at least. Had something changed so suddenly?

You let out a heavy breath you just now realize you’d been holding and scold yourself. ‘Your thoughts aren’t always true. Wayne said he was sick so he’s sick. I can at least bring him a treat.’ Looking over at the tote bag of tupperware’d food you encourage yourself to smile and hold it as you pull into the Munson’s drive.

Wayne wasn’t home, but Eddie’s van was here, and so you collect your things and exit your car, hopping up the steps and rapping the door.

No answer.

“Eddie?”

A neighbor’s dog starts barking a few doors down. You could swear you hear something from inside, rustling and a door slamming shut.

“Eds? You in there? It’s me! I brought you some stuff.”

Nothing.

“W-Wayne said you were super sick, so…” you trail off softly, lowering your arms and heaving a sigh.

“Eddie? I know you’re home I— … I’m worried about you, I just—“ you groan softly and just set everything down on the steps, worried the more you call to him the more annoyed he’s getting.

“I’ll just… I’m setting your stuff down out here for you, okay? Don’t forget about it.” A few more moments leaned against the door, waiting for anything, but nothing comes and you can’t help a slight pang, heading back down the steps.

“…Feel better, Eds.” Glancing back you cant even look inside, the curtains all shut tight. ‘He must really be sick.’

You head home but for the rest of the night your thoughts and worries start to take over a little, unable to sit still as you pace your room and question every last interaction you’d had with him, wonder about every possible illness you knew the name of. If he’d just call, pick up when you rang, just say one word to let you know you didn’t need to worry so much.

As you’re in the middle of that thought the phone does indeed ring, and you nearly trip over yourself to get to it, ripping the receiver from the cradle and holding it tight against your ear.

“Hello??”

“…”

“… Hello? Someone there?”

“Y/N?” His voice is low, weak, obscured slightly but it’s Eddie. Oh, your heart nearly beats from your chest.

“Eddie?? Babe what the f— I’ve been so worried! Are you okay?”

“… … I- … I’m- I’m fine, promise. I’m fine.” He sounds strained.

“Are you sure? Do you need anything? I-I left you some stuff—“

“Sweetheart I— I can’t… Can’t really talk much, now… Just… Wanted to tell you, I’m okay…” There’s some rustling as though he’s covering the receiver on his end; you swear you hear him whimper.

“Eds?? Eddie please I-“ *click*

You hang onto the phone long enough for the signal to start bleeping at you as if in irritation that you’re still on the line, reminding you to set it back down in its cradle.

The clock tells you it’s close to midnight. Your brain tells you something’s very wrong.

Fifteen minutes later you’re rocking to a sudden halt in your car, once again sat in Eddie’s driveway. Same as before, Wayne isn’t home yet, and Eddie’s van is parked just beside you. The tote bag you’d left still sat on the steps.

You step out, striding up to his door with purpose and this time just trying the knob — locked. Glancing down the length of the trailer, the curtains still seemed to be drawn and there’s no discernible light peeking through, save for Eddie’s bedroom, a soft orange glow from a covered lamp indicating some presence.

Hoping to high heaven that neither Munson would hold trespassing against you, you bend down and lift the mat as you’d seen Eddie do a few times — the hidden spare key glinting at you in the moonlight. Using it on the lock, you turn the knob again and suck in a deep breath as you push the door open into an eerily silent, pitch-black living room.

“…Eddie?” Your voice is soft and hitched, trembling a little, too quiet to get anyone’s attention. Why were you kind of freaking out right now? There’s a rustle down the hall, a gruff, muffled noise and you gasp, jumping in your step. Looking down the hallway, it’s that same lightless black, until your eyes reach Eddie’s bedroom door — that orange light bleeding through the space between the door and the floor.

“E-Eddie?” You find yourself taking slow steps towards his room, eyes locked onto that strip of light. When a shadow runs across it you feel a cold sweat break over you. “Eds, seriously, seriously I’m kind of freaked out right n—“

There’s no time to react as the door slams open and crashes into the wall, a large, shivering figure in the doorway wearing Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt, but it’s ripped and stained. You can’t make it out exactly, but the light from behind it illuminates its shape — and it’s much bigger than Eddie. Rugged; shoulders heaving. But its breathing is… unnatural. Almost like there’s a growl laced in it. You stumble backwards and to the floor from the initial shock of the door flying open, hastily lifting yourself onto your elbows, and when you behold this figure you gasp a sharp, shuddering breath, trying to croak out a scream but it catches and you find you can only stutter and whimper, struggling to scurry backwards but your movements are shaky and your limbs feel frozen.

It heaves a growl, snarls but it’s eerily soft, and takes a heavy step forward, vibrating through you. Your mind screams at you to move but you’re still just scrambling, arms heavy, trying to inch yourself away as you emit low whimpers, eyes wide and unable to leave the beast before you. Its eyes glow an unnatural yellow and it’s how you know it’s staring right back into yours. You can make it out a little better now, but your mind struggles to comprehend exactly what you’re looking at.

The creature is at least seven feet tall, almost entirely covered in dark, wavy fur. Its limbs don’t fit, however, they’re too human as its fingers reach up to pull at a mane of wild, shaggy hair, and that’s when you really notice the ears. They’re tall, pointed, set back like a dog ready to lunge. Its muzzle just the same, canine and lined with sharp teeth as it snarls. Eddie’s Hellfire tee… why was it wearing that??

“E-E— Ed—die…“ The tears fall freely and you cry. ‘So this is how I’m gonna die,’ you think. ‘This monster must have eaten Eddie and now it’s gonna eat me too.’

At the sound of your voice, however, something changes quickly. The beast spasms as if struck, crouching and curling into itself as it whines. As you watch in horror, you witness the final stage of this creature's transformation. The same dark fur breaks out over rippling arm and leg muscles, as the creature whines again and groans; you gasp, watching fingers lengthen and sharpen into claws. Arms and legs swell with muscle beneath the sheath of fur, and a howl of pain twins with a sob that wracks you. Terror and fear and also... sympathy. How do you know this creature?? Why are you suddenly so sad that it's hurting.

The beast's head snaps up, yellow eyes aglow, and it... calms. It sighs, almost, relieved the worst of it is over and now its attention is locked onto you. But the menace is gone -- if anything, this creature seems worried. Upset. Sad that it's frightened you.

You're still trembling, however, still weeping silently on the floor as you just lock eyes with this hulking being in front of you. The Hellfire tee... You keep scanning, gaze wandering over the wavy fur, and something dangling from this beast's neck makes your heart drop. The shirt should have given it away, but how could you think straight when a literal werewolf was snarling and staring you down. But now, Eddie's pick hanging from it's thick, furry neck...

You take in a shuddering breath, shaking your head in disbelief. The wolf begins to whine, lowering its head, ears lowered and pulled back again but now like a dog ashamed of what it's done. You cant help a bark of a laugh, the tears continuing to spill.

"EDDIE??! WHAT THE HELL!!"

Your werewolf boyfriend barks. You swear you see his tail wag.

[dadmightweek]

Hi, so sorry to bother you! could you maybe explain more about the themes you talked about in the prompts post...? I'm a lil confused about them •~•"

ty !

Oh yeah sure !!

Themes are mainly there to help me come up with prompts, as well as to inspire the banners & pfps for that year! Since I came up with the idea of themes a bit late this year, none of the banners or pfps are based around it.

How it works is each year 7/14 prompts will be inspired by a theme. This year, the theme is "heroics class", and the first 7 prompts were inspired by it. (quirk training, homework, costumes, interview, insiders secret, search & rescue, agency tour)

You, however, can interpret the prompts whatever way you would like, and do not have to have your work comply with the theme, whether you use themed prompts or not. For example, you could take the prompt "costumes" and draw midoriya and all might wearing halloween costumes! The prompt was inspired by the idea of hero costumes, but the work y'all make does not have to match up. If you want to, you can of course, but there is no requirement.

As for banners and pfps, that's all up to me, so y'all don't have to worry about this. I might keep this blogs pfp the same because I like the picture, so it'll mainly apply to the AO3 collections.

Also, one theme from the previous year will point to the theme for the next! So, if you feel particularly sleuthy or anything of the sorts, you can try to figure out which one it is. I won't confirm anything until the next event time rolls around though ;)

Happy creating! Hope this answers any questions you had, and if y'all still have more, send an ask!

[proship-april]

Question!! Will there be time before April to start pre-writing? Or is this one of those exchanges where each fic/art must be made in one day?

I usually avoid the “you get a prompt on the day and you have to finish it quickly” types, i much prefer “here is a sheet or prompts, you can start writing before the event starts”. Curious how this will go!

Yes, of course! I'm hoping to have the prompt calendar finished and uploaded by the end of next week, baring any unforseen setbacks. If nothing else, it'll definitely be available before the first day of April.

I'm thinking of doing a bingo sheet for those who don't want to do every day, sort of like how last year had a weekly-prompt. Would that work out any better for y'all? Let me know!

[punemy-spotted]

Okay, can I unofficially ask-a-thon prompt you?! Is that allowed?! Lol I don’t want to break any rules or step on any toes 😅

So, I’d love to know:

Do you have a specific method that helps you overcome writer’s block?

What story, scene, or maybe specific character exchange that you wrote really kind of threw you for a loop? Maybe it went in the opposite direction that you planned or the characters rebelled and did what they wanted or something?

Sending you so much love and gratitude! ❤️

Yes! I think ask-a-thons are the greatest thing and I am certainly hoping it helps more writers feel engaged and grow friendships — @ask-a-thon deserves all the credit for inspiring me to spam y'all with their Sunday asks this week (and hopefully more in the future)! Thank you so much for sending this in!!

As always, I rambled forever so everything is under the cut.

Do you have a specific method that helps you overcome writer’s block?

I don't have a set method so much as I tend to use several methods to try and push me through writer's block, depending on (1) whether the method I'm using is working and (2) what the reason for the block is. Lately I've been feeling pretty emotionally and mentally burnt out, so a lot of what I'm doing is taking my time, focusing on my mental recovery, and picking up other crafts that bring my anxiety/agitation down to help me feel ready to write again. I've gotten back into crocheting in a big way, to the point where I've actually managed to make two queen-sized blankets in the past twelve months. When I do feel emotionally ready to write but am struggling with the words, I let music do a lot of the work for me. Sometimes I'll just put on a song to get the vibes for the scene I'm trying to write out and dance, or talk to my friends. A foolproof method for me (at least when someone is... available, I guess?) when I'm in this sort of state is to start gushing about the fic I'm writing — especially if I've written some of it out already, or have an outline and ideas I want to incorporate. Getting excited and seeing my friend/friends get excited with me is really really encouraging and helps loosen some of my self-doubt inhibitions that may block me from doing what I want to do because I am my own worst enemy. I think writing communities are essential for writers to help combat writer's block, especially communities centered around the act of writing itself. Multifandom spaces where I can learn from and encourage other writers who are incredibly different from me and have incredibly diverse interests and joys are — to me — some of the most helpful spaces I have been in to fall in love with writing and also be comfortable taking my own time to write. I think we can all agree that writing in an inherently shared hobby, but it is very difficult to feel comfortable sharing without a community to encourage you.

What story, scene, or maybe specific character exchange that you wrote really kind of threw you for a loop? Maybe it went in the opposite direction that you planned or the characters rebelled and did what they wanted or something?

Hahahaha, I'm bringing back Glory, Amen again because this fic. This demon of a fic, even in just the form of a oneshot, completely turned all the worldbuilding I had planned for the Valley upside-down. The Valley was supposed to be a full-dark series focusing on incredibly powerful ancient horrors and the means by which they sated their carnal hungers... and instead of Pastor Rogers being an ancient horror intent on eating away at the edge of this universe piece by piece, he is an ancient horror tamed into being a keeper of this world, if only for the sake of his Witch-Wife and the Witch-daughters who keep this place alive. From full dark to vindication and freedom, and I still have no idea what happened.

[undeniablyares]

This was a fun little post that was going on around Twitter that I wanted to share here for those that follow me here. ✨

1. Accidentally Demonic. It is hands down my favorite fic of mine to read and write, and I only have 3 chapters out currently. Just based on the overall tone, what I've done so far, and what's to come based on my chapter maps/planning, I think it will be one of my best works ever. Y'all are really in for it.

2. Accidentally an Oiran is my most popular fic. The sheer amount of support, engagement, and interest will forever be mind-boggling to me. It was my first long fic, my first Akaren story I started, it brought me out of my shell and introduced me to all you amazing people within the KNY fandom. It will always hold a special place in my heart, and I'm forever grateful for all of you that enjoy it. 🔥❄️

3. Breathe. It's weird, sad af, and wildly out of character, but I think we need more Senjuro-centered fics. I adore character studies, and a badass, dark version of Senjuro is just so fucking cool. I also think it's the most mature thing I've written as I try to characterize a tough, clever, slayer Senjuro who is fueled by grief and spite. I'm dying to get back to it so I can keep the plot going.

4. I am such a sap for the childhood friends to lovers trope in romance/erotica. I'm also into that weird, one-sided pining where the other is an idiot and doesn't realize their friend has always been in love with them until much later, then falls for the friend and it becomes mutual pining until one nuts up and finally confesses. Confusing slow burns have me in a chokehold. 😅🥲

5. Soulmates alternate universes are probably my least favorite trope to read or write. This likely stems from my own spiritual beliefs and ideas about the universe, more than anything else. Not bashing the idea at all, as it's adorably romantic, it's just not my favorite. Reincarnation alternate universe ideas are different, though. I'll fuck with a reincarnation au anytime. 😅

6. I have a longer fic idea that I want to do with either a slayer Akaza or Hakuji and Pillar Kyo, where Kyo gets turned into a demon at the beginning and Akaza/Hakuji has to fight to try and find a cure for him, or like a Tokyo Ghoul sort of scenario that rewrites Mugen Train to have Kyo survive from a makeshift transfusion of Akaza's blood and becoming a half-demon from it. (I really love demon Kyo ideas 🫣)

7. Accidentally an Oiran is my longest fanfic currently, but not my longest work ever. I write original fiction that's longer that is dark fantasy/horror and erotica with LGBTQ+ characters that I am currently editing and hoping to actually publish one day.

8. Snake Eyes, the Akaren Week mythology prompt, is currently my shortest fic.

9. My list of collaborations that I inwardly pine for consists of working with some of my favorite Akaren writers, but I'm far too nervous to ever initiate anything with anyone else. My faves are GremlinCat, Blueberrybagel, saigne, OllieWritesAll, GodlessOx, and BTS2016dia on AO3. I can dream, anyway. 😅🫣 That being said, all Akaren is good Akaren. I am always down to collab with anyone about anything Akaren at any time. This also goes for artists that are interested in me writing stories to go along with their art or comics. My DMs are literally always open to anyone. 😌

10. My most used tags are Kyojurou lives, porn with plot/feelings, and anal. I am a predictable man with fine tastes. 😂

11. My AO3 account is linked at the bottom. The update schedule is going to be, for the very near future: Ch. 3 of Bad Pillar, the Wet and Messy | Massages | Body Worship Akaren Kinktober prompt, Dubiously Married Part 3, and chapters 3 for Accidentally Human and Accidentally Reborn. The 2023 update schedule will likely consist of more with the Accidentally Routes, the longer modern au BDSM Akaren fic I'm planning, and the Demon Rehab fic. Stay tuned, friends. Trying to feed y'all well. 😌

https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeniablyAres/works

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.