#maybe if I can get back into it I'll post a snippet of one of my old works

[noctisvixen]

I'm debating if I want to get into writing Hermitcraft fics to post on AO3.

Like, I write Hermitcraft fics for myself, they're super unpolished and 90% are abandoned because I know I don't have to finish them and I wanna do a different prompt. Though 7/10, I return to the older ones to add a little more to it because *brain rot*.

But like... What if I did write with the intention to post?? I have AUs that are story exclusive, where they aren't flippin animals. It'd be fun and then at least my AO3 account wouldn't just be blank.

[spacedlexi]

i just remembered that i designed an entire town and was almost done digitally lining my drafts before i just forgot it existed 🤪

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

[httpiastri]

okay so i started writing on a boyfriend!paul blurb for after the race today, but then i deleted it and wrote this instead: a short snippet of a future chapter of the "the way i loved you" fic 😋 pretty short but it's all i can produce rn lol. will likely have some changes when i post the actual chapter. aiming to post the first things from the fic soon !!! hope u enjoy 😚

series masterlist

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. "congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and so on, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie didn't just have a bad race today; the entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations. and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul just nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"I think youre like, super duper cool-- a morning with Kai”

Summery: a snippet in time for the two of you, though something like this happens too often to count. A soft and fluffy but fortifying morning with him to remember that all started with him fiddling with the straps and hems of your shirt… speaking of night clothes… there might be a surprise for him waiting underneath

A/N: um so this was supposed to have been out like an eternity ago but life has really been killing me lately so I apologize. Writing is good though and I really love it. I say this every time I post a fic but I’m not sure how good this is :( I originally wanted kai to eat out the reader in this fix but alas, I did not get to it

Warngingz/info: kissing, morning sex, unestablished relationship, like you can take it however you want in this, fingering, hanjob, reacher is gn! other than having a vagina, reader kisses Kai’s freckles/moles, Kai is pussy drunk? idk maybe he is in this, kai asks you to put just the tip in, kai loves the readers tummy thats pretty evident in this fic, spelling mistakes I'll get to them eventually.... think thats it but (it just autocorrected me to 'nut'....) I think thats it! please feel free to let me know if there's anything else!

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

••••••••••••••

THIS IS SMUT! PLEASE HAVE AN AGE INDICATOR IN YOUR BLOG SAYING YOU ARE NOT A MINOR IF YOU ARENT OR ELSE I WILL BE BLOCKING YOU!!!!

The sun hits the front of your lidded eyes, burning them, but wanting, and now apparently waking you up at the same time. Kai shifts behind you, little puffs of breathing out tickling your neck. You finally open your eyes to look where at the state of the man currently latched onto your back. You feel him fiddling with the straps of your tank top absentmindedly, fingers ever so often brushing against your newly exposed skin.

Your desire to nod back off quickly fades when he takes a long breath-- something he always does when he wakes. Now, too excited to ask him in a moment if he's had any dreams, your sleepiness fades into just being calm with him. He circles his arms around your tummy, the pads of his soft and nearly hot with blush and toasty from just returned to the land of the living. it was weird... but something he always took notice of; the way all of his best sleeps were always with you. it wasn't like he couldn't sleep on his own, but when he did he woke up feeling as tired as he was when he laid down, or like they just didnt hit the same way as when he was with you

like he was now, with one of his arms falling asleep with you laying on top of it. but really, he wouldn't want it any other way. You put your hands over his, grasping them tightly almost in an awkward handshake. "So no good morning? no hi, how are you? just trying to brake my hand I see." His voice is groggy, raspy, coming from the back of his throat. You chuckle, and he feels like the sleep instantly is gone from his eyes.

"I was obviously helping you!" You protest, "I was giving feeling back into your arms."

"Why both of my arms then, huh?" his voice lowers, getting suspicious. "I have to show love to each of them." "By breaking them...?" You can feel his eyebrow raise. "mmhm." you say definitely. "Oh, very nice of you then." he snickers

He kneads your tummy gently. the soft skin on his making the both of you break a smile. Only for a moment though, until you feel coolness envelope you instead of warmth as before. Cause now he's getting up, blanket wrapped around his entire body and running to the other side of the bed. he flops down next to you, facing you and making the blanket billow around him like a cape. Now youre both engulfed in it. light from the curtains casting a glow on each of your faces through the blanket. "What? You were pushing me off the bed." You inch closer to him. "Oh, so it was that then, not you wanting to cuddle with me?" he nuzzles his face not your neck, hands already traveling to their rightful place where your hips and waist/ tummy meet. big hands warm you as he speaks into your neck: "mmhm, yeah that, and.... " he draws out the article, though you know what and was going to say and he does "I wanted to see you."

"reasonable." you smile.

"Really?" his smirk is coming through his lips, teeth, and mouth and his voice drips with it. And right now, youre not sure how to deal with it as youre drawn closer and closer to him like a magnetic pull is the only thing that's controlling you. Once youre close enough to feel each others rapid heart beats and close enough where if you just inched in... just a little bit, your lips would be on his neck and you could feel his pulse. you finally speak, "yeah, of course you did. I don't know if youve noticed but im like, pretty amazing." his tongue darts out to lick his lips and smiles. he starts rubbing at your skin again. well, more like brushing it, making you suppress some sort of laugh because its starting to tickle but still.

"Ive noticed, though!" he protests, face still in your neck, voice gentle because of your proximity. "am I that predictable?" you shake your head yes. (he does this almost every morning that you two wake up like this.)

"Im not accusing you--" "yeah yeah, I know but" he straightens his back, looking at you in the eyes now. "what if I happen to think that youre like... super duper cool?" a wide smile creeps onto his face, his eyes crinkling and his cheeks swell as he says the last few words. he draws in a short breath and continues: "and nice, and beautiful, and wonderful. and a whole lotta other things I know anyone who spends a bunch of time with you and who you know..." he cocks his head from side to side, thinking about how he was going to word what he wanted to convey. "...know about you, but I don't really know how to express right now."

You laugh with him. something similar to thing happens a lot between the two of you-- him wanting, no, needing to tell you how he knows how amazing you are, but either not being able to express himself or tripping over his own words. you barely ever paid any mind to it, though. and not in a "its the thought that counts" type of way, either. you might've not fully understood what he was trying to say, but the way he gazed into your eyes, brightness filling them, then looks away, then back at you, rose pigment in his face now.... god, did that tell you all you needed to know.

"hm," you hum, "I think youre supper duper cool too." he raises his head to place a quick peck on your lips. you would've kissed him back if he'd just give you a second. A moment of silence later and it leads to him pressing, almost poking his nose against your previously cold but now warm with the heat crawling into your face and he doubles down on his statement. "Im serious though--" you chuckle even though you can hear the weight in his tone. "So am I." and youre just as serious as him. you mouth a thank you nonetheless. "I-I'm serious though, I don't think anyone in their right mind could miss how amazing you are."

Two things, about this interaction: one,) you can joke about it all you want but, he thinks, you really are perfect. and two) no matter what he says about it, you really do think its cute how he's stumbling over his words. "Glad we're on the same page."

All the while you two have been talking, his hands are moving mere fractions of an inch up and down, up and down, down and-- now hes rubbing almost tickling circles right next to your navel. each stroke of your torso getting longer and longer. you fiddle with the waistband of his boxers until he goes far down enough to notice youre not wearing any underwear. the schooled look on his face makes you laugh as you both emerge from the little makeshift blanket fort you two have stretched over the beautiful expanse of his shoulders.

"oh, im sorry." he bites the inside of his cheek nervously and gulps, raises his hands off you. "what'r you sorry for? I thought you wanted to..." you move his hand back to where it was on the top of your ass. "touch me here?" "well I did-- I do." he corrects himself, but he keeps on rambling. "I just wasn't expecting-- and I dunno if you wanted to since-- oh, what?" He suddenly breaks a smile, his nervousness fading away when he sees you silently chuckling at him. "thisis making your brain short circuit is see. hm, I should let you know when im sleeping without them more often, don't you think?" his eyes go wide again. "you mean you do this frequently and I just don't know?" he leans back a little, eyes darting around, seemingly genuinely pondering this.

Your hands hover over his chest, warmth radiating off you onto his skin. he gently squeezes your ass and your back stiffens, chill going up your spine. "I can't find the words so" he draws out the last word, trailing off, "can I?" he dips his eyes to where the hem of your oversized T-shirt, (already bunched up in the back from him kneading your ass,) hits your upper thighs.

He drags the fabric up and you have half a mind to tell him to get on with it already. and what feels like forever later, hes dipping his thump into his mouth, wetting it with his salivating tongue. then he brings it down to your clit. he starts rubbing at it, warm air surrounding the small bud because of how deep you are under the covers. An electric shock runs up and back down your spine at the contact he makes with now two of his fingers pressing right were youre aching for him. "oh--" you cut your own self off knowing that what;; come our of you will only be incoherent mess.

You can't see what hes doing, he can't either and although that worrying him a little bit its making the experience that much more heightened for the both of you. this way, you can stare lovingly into his eyes and see the little movements his mouth makes, slightly opening here and there, when he gains a beautiful reaction out of you or he gets a little overwhelmed at the feeling of your warm and wet pussy on his fingers. and this way he can focus on all the sounds you make, wishing to bottle up the sound and get drunk on all your moans and hisses of pleasure.

You might not be able to see, but fuck, you sure can hear and feel. as he switches from rubbing at your clit and dripping hole to finger fucking you at that pace that drives you insane, the lewd sounds youre making together is fucking perfect--- music to your ears, even. its wet and mess, hes sloppy and almost desperate for the sighs of pleasure you make, or for that look in your eyes that lets him know youre about to be in the throws of ecstasy around his fingers... cumming for him. all for him. and all because of him. the groans aloud at the thought-- him being the(only) one making you feel this good, him brining you to your high so damn well. and he knows its selfish but a part of him wants to make you cum so good and so often that youre ruined for anyone else. so that the only fingers besides your own that you know could make you feel this good are his. the only tongue good enough for you? his.

it was like his cock and your cunt were made for each other... and that made him shiver in pleasure at the thought. you didnt miss the way he was like this, though. the way his pupils dilated and his jaw clenched at times like these were a tell tale sign.

Hes sloppy with his movements a bit but has just how you two like it. so wonderful he swears that if he could, he'd encapsulate the sounds and feelings that come from this and you and stuff himself full with it to delirium everyday. And if you could, you’d surely do the same. Especially with his grunts and whimpers. God you loved those.

His fingers were already fucking so deep inside you, like you could feel his fingers curl, almost, it feels like in your fucking guts. then, you think, imagine how otherworldly his rock hard cock would be. You can feel him grazing it up and down your thigh, trying not to make it too obvious but grinding his hard on into your plush skin none the les. He occasionally bumps into his own arm the more time goes on and the more desperate he’s getting with his movements. You bring the thigh he’s doing this to up a little further as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, you’re slick forming a thick ring around the base of his fingers, dripping deliciously onto his hand.

he breathes out a grunt, barely audible to either of you. And that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore. You tug at the waist and of his boxers, his warm abdomen on your knuckles. You look up at him and before you can get the words out he’s already begging “yeah— you can. Please—“ his words come out choppy, up and down in volume but you don't care. You slip them down, too wrapped up in him touching you and you about to touch him that you don’t get them any further than his thighs. The same thighs you have dreams about— dragging yourself on them till you cum with his big hands digging into your hips, sucking hickies on them as he lets out little sighs and as his hands don’t know where to go, the list goes on.

All you wanted was him a close to you as humanly possible, with your hand gripping the full weight of him and your thumb rubbing over, almost teasing his sensitive, leaking tip. You use your spit that's mixing with his precum to let you slide up and down the length of him. He rocks into your hand, same as you to his, trying to find release. And you start to get annoyed even though at this point hes flattened out his hand, your juices oozing out onto it as his palm rubs circles onto your clit.

His fingers are starting to go slower, and deeper if that was humanly possible. but thats not why you were getting annoyed-- kai, even with how he prettily threw his head back with an open mouth in pleasure and then forward again, grunting almost into your collarbone, the rest of him wasn't staying still. he was wriggling and writhing, uncoordinated thrusts into your hand and his have breathing make you lean in for a kiss and surprisingly your teeth don't clang together.

hes still moving around too much and you realize it'd be nearly impossible to get him to cum like this. So you bring you hand off him, ignoring, just for a moment, his whines in protest, chasing after your palm like how you just chased after his lips. You gently snap the elastic waistband against his abdomen as a reminder to calm down-- to get him focused again

At this point, the two of you are halfway sitting up and halfway laying down. Not the most comfortable position but you barely care as you can feel the beautiful pit in your stomach growing and he brings you closer to sweet relief. your mouth goes agape as he rubs you a little faster. You clench around his fingers and all he can think about is how tight you'd feel around him, creaming on his cock. Youre no better, though. with your thoughts of how big you'd know he'd be inside you, because lets be honest here, its not the laying on your side facing him thats making it hard to pump his dick.

You run your thumb along the vein on the underside of his cock and his legs still then quake. Your back arches into his touch. it's all getting too much for you-- you and him pleasuring the other with your hands at the same pace. and as your eyes flutter close because fuck, that face hes making is gonna make you cum if you keep on staring at it, you can feel it. almost like hes fucking into you for real; doesn't help that hes so close to your thighs either.

"I wan' you to cum for me. I love to hear you and feel you and--"

maybe hes rambling, but its cute none the less and that makes you regain full feeling and conciseness, now being able to will your hand to glide over his slippery cock faster, You feel yourself being tipped over the edge.

Your toes curl, his heart rate jumps as you let go of his dick, brining your hand to his wrist to hold him right where you need him. you couldn't focus on anything else at the moment, you felt like he was bringing your body to heaven-- like you were fucking ascending. His lips were on yours in a flash, kissing you like it was his last as you continue humping his palm to ease through your orgasm.

You cum with a muffled curse into his chest as you fall perfectly into him. you really are made for each other, huh?

"God, you look so beautiful when you cum. your face is buried in his collarbone and your hands-- they're gonna be the death of him tonight, hes sure of it. one's rubbing slow petel-in-the-breeze-soft circles on in wrist, and the other is over his heartbeat on his chest. it wasn't anything even that sexual if his dick wasn't out and his fingers weren't soiled with your cum.

you sink yourself deeper into his neck and chuckle. "Im guessing so beautiful that you dont even notice how I dropped your dick?" you blink at him, your lashes tickling his sensitive skin.

He can't even respond before youre kissing the mole on his neck, sucking a small mark there as he lets out little "ah-ah~" next to your ear, before moving up to the one on his jaw... then the one on the other side... then the next, and then next all while watching the little red mark on his neck fade until finally youre at the beginning of his chest. and now your hand his back on him and he feels like hes gonna actually die.

how did he deal with this before? maybe its the way the sheets smell all fresh and comforting, or the way his eyes are still drowsy with sleep and the perfect golden hour light hitting and warming the room just right, or maybe the way you were just around his fingers a moment ago... but whatever it was, he felt his release rapidly approaching.

You kiss him to swallow up the sounds hes making, knowing how his tip bumping against you, nearly tapping your pussy but catching your thighs, wet with your own cum and dampened with sweat is getting to be too much for him just as it was like for you a bit ago. he craved this maybe a little bit too much; your bodies melting together, becoming one. and he really can't hold it in anymore.

"I need-- just the tip, ok? I need to feel you around me. jus' the tip, thats all" his voice comes out with labored breathing and thats all you need to hear, sliding his tip in between your dripping folds. your hand stroking what you can't fit and dipping his head in and out of your hole. not much, just enough to get him addicted to the feeling. at this point hes doing most of the work for you; moving so that his cock slides up and down your cunt, and youre revealing in it as much as you are. with him smoothing over and rubbing your clit, giving you the satisfaction of some much needed friction and the beautiful full feeling of his cock-- even just a little bit is driving you crazy. and the overwhelming want to shove all of him into you, stuffing you full on him? otherworldly. making you have to physically stop yourself from fulfilling your want, no, need, to have him fully inside.

and the way your teeth poke out of your mouth as it opens in pleasure? he feels like hes basking, wishing to drown himself in your pussy. he kisses you urgently, like fire surges through him, pouring himself and his emotions out for you, spilling himself all over your hand as your slow down your strokes, dick throbbing in your hand. your pussy convulsing around noting as he comes down from his high.

The both of your breathing slows, his whines and grunts of pleasure turn into a smile as he looks into your eyes. he reaches over to the nightstand, effectively putting his chest in your face. He plops back down a second later with a couple tissues and grabs your wrist from under the blanket still and does his best to clean it off.

Its silent as he does this, but the good kind. not awkward or dead. but comfortable like it always is with him. it wasn't until then that the both of you realized how much he came. Yeah... he was gonna need another tissue. You peck his lips at the thought and sight but he starts to wonder how the fuck that happened. You really do do wonders to him, he thinks.

He finishes cleaning his own hand next then balls up the tissues before throwing them on the floor. they could be worried about later. he brings you close to him, all he ever wanted, really; to be close enough that his heartbeat syncs with yours and that he smell the sex coming off you... feel the warmth of your skin on his.

His hands find their rightful places at your hips and tummy. Youre almost nodding off again when--

"oh I forgot to ask you!" you nearly shriek at him "did you have any dreams?" the knowing smile that creeps up onto his face tells you all you need to know. "yeah... n' maybe they were about you..." he circles you waist and brings you closer, smirk on your face as he starts sucking on your neck. "oh? just maybe?" you try to keep your composure.

A/N: hope you enjoyed! if you did, please leave some love like comments or reblogs! and please send some asks-- both hard and soft hours are open!

taglist: @itz-yerin

©️2023copyrightofshutupheathersorryheatherr do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works even if you give me credit

[skygemspeaks]

I finally got to sit down and finish episode one, and i've got some thoughts!!

I think that introducing garp as a big player right from the get go is a really great idea. His presence at the execution made sense, and his dynamic with roger did well to help establish both of their characterisations

Roger's actor did a phenomenal job with the eerie laugh and his complete irreverance in the face of his own death. I love how he delivered the wealth fame power speech!

It was a bit surprising to me that they showed roger actually getting killed, but honestly i'm in total approval of this direction they're taking with the live action. I really like the more brutal approach, especially because oda's refusal to kill anyone outside of flashbacks pre-marineford is one of the biggest complaints i tend to hear from people. Seeing zoro dragging around the top half mr 7's corpse was so jarring, but it was a good choice

Ilia's perfrmance as alvida was absolutely amazing. I like that they changed her catchphrase from the most beautiful woman on the seas to the most powerful

Overall, i really like the different transitions between plot points, and how this episode set things up in future arcs. All the different things that go on in shells town feel so much more better interconnected than they did in the manga. I'll go into this more in another post, but like one example of what i'm talking about is how the reason zoro allowed himself to be tied to the post was because morgan threatened that if he didn't agree to it, he wouldn't be able to collect any more bounties from any marine bases. It also gives zoro mire of a reason to join luffy - he knows that at this point there's no eay he can continue being a bounty hunter now that morgan has it out for him. So how else is he going to meet other strong swordsmen? By joining a pirate crew of course.

The shanks flashback was awesome! His dynamic with luffy was really endearing, and again i do like that they didn't have higuma attack shanks. That's one thing that never really made sense to me in the manga - i get thst yoy don't have to solve everything with violence, but there's no reason for shanks not to have fought back against someone who was attacking him, even if he did know they couldn't possibly hurt him

Also on shanks' flashback - the scene where he found out luffy had eaten the devil fruit was AMAZING. What a fantastic idea to have little luffy framed in sunlight! And the utter heartbreak on shanks' face as he realizes that there's no way luffy will ever be able to have a normal life now...

Of course, we gotta mention the snippet of Binks' Sake we heard in the scene where shanks is stitching up luffy's cut. I recognized it instantly and it made me really emotional. Love all these little easter eggs they have for long time fans of the series. In addition to this there was alsp the cavendish, foxy, and bellamy wanted posters which we knew about from the trailer

Speaking of wanted posters - what a COOL way to introduce the other pirates!

Morgan going on his monologue about capturing kuro is SO funny know what's gonna happen on a few episodes. Oda played it a lot more subtle in the manga but i like that they came right out and said it here.

And while we're talking about foreshadowing, it was a fantastic idea to include the mr 7 fight in this season! I really hope we get a season 2, just sp we can get the payoff for this great setup.

I'm a little sad that we didn't get to see the luffy and koby hug that was shown in the behind the scenes video (i think that was the one?). I really hope that wasn't cut because i loved that little scene. Maybe it'll happen later in the season?

Buggy's introduction at the end of the episode was SO good. I loved his whole vibe, with him lounging so confidently in his chair, his creepy laugh, everything. I'm excited to see the next episode! They better not have cut chouchou out 😭

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 💘

Starting WIP Wednesday off with a snippet from my Buddie High School Valentine's Day AU. It's 5.5K finished and I'll post it tomorrow, keep an eye out 👀. Guys, please be proud of me I wrote this fic in 2 days. That has never happened before. I normally take weeks and weeks and weeks. Anyways, here you go. Prev snippet here

“It’s from one EB… who do we think that is?”

“It was the one that came with the brownie and a rose, I think it’s probably my favourite.” Eddie’s eyes glance over to Buck before quickly averting back to Howie. “Not that, uh, not that I’m interested. I think maybe it was from Erin Bowler, the new girl we share PE with.”

“Ooh she is pretty though.”

“I guess.”

Hen, who had been observing the whole conversation stares at Buck with a knowing look on her face. Buck blushes. “Buck, weren’t you just the other day talking about cows?” she says.

“Um, yeah.”

“Yeah, Buck was talking about how cows have best friends, I thought it was pretty cute,” Eddie adds.

That gets Buck to smile. “And, did you know that cows drink up to 100 litres of water a day? And that they produce 50 litres of saliva, can you imagine drooling that much? Oh and also you can lead a cow up a flight of stairs but then they can’t get back down! Maybe, I’m the cow because my leg always hurts more when I walk down the stairs. Anyway, I think it’s because of the shape of their knees or something.”

Eddie is staring at Buck with this look of awe written on his face. He’s smiling at Buck with that smile. The one that always makes Buck feel soft and gooey, the one that makes Buck feel like his heart has been taken out of his chest only to be kissed and wrapped in a blanket before placing it gently back between his lungs. It’s the smile that Buck thinks Eddie has reserved just for him, it’s the one he really thought meant that maybe Eddie felt the same way he does.

“Absolute idiots,” Hen mutters under her breath.

Tagging: @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @malewifediaz  @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @puppyboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley and anyone else who wants to share! pls let me know if you'd like to be added or removed :)

[ramblingoak]

The Sexy Cardigan

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 6 - Blushing

Copia x Aether

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Copia teaches history at the high school and Aether is a firefighter. ~

Warnings: Copia being awkward and cute, flirty texts idk, nsfw 18+ mdni, 600 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

Aether:  What are you wearing?

Copia’s brain whited out when he read the text and he quickly slapped his phone screen down onto his desk.  He winced when the sharp noise made a few of his students look up from their tests but after he gave them an awkward smile they went back to work.  Unholy hell, what was Aether doing?  His phone vibrated again and Copia took a deep breath before turning it back over.

Aether:  Is it sexy?

He couldn’t help but look down at himself, seeing his usual button up and cardigan.  His pants had felt a little tight this morning but he blamed that on Swiss continuing to show up with pies from his new boyfriend.  Copia nibbled on his bottom lip before slowly typing out his reply.

Copia:  Are cardigans sexy?

The response was immediate and Copia could feel his cheeks heating up violently.

Aether:  On you?  Hell yes.

He bit down on his lip to prevent a delirious laugh from escaping.  Oh this was not an appropriate conversation to have right now.  Copia looked up at the clock on the wall, disappointed to see that there was still an hour left before lunch.  Maybe playing along just a bit longer wouldn’t hurt?  He slouched down in his chair while he responded.

“Mr. Emeritus?”

“Shit!”  Copia fumbled with his phone, cursing again under his breath when it fell to the floor.  With a sigh he looked up to see one of his students standing on the other side of his desk.  “Sì?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

He nodded and waved the student away, managing an awkward thumbs up when they gave him a funny look.  Copia looked down at his phone before bending over to pick it up.  This was ridiculous, he was terrible at flirting in person so continuing this on the phone would just be even more embarrassing.  Determined to delete the text he had typed out he was horrified to see that while fumbling with his phone he had accidentally sent it.

Copia:  What about off?  

“Merda.”  Was there a way to delete sent texts?  Copia stayed frozen in place, trying to decide if it was worth googling.  An alert from Terzo popped up but he ignored it.  He did not have time for whatever the fuck Terzo was up to.  “Uh, class?”

Obediently all their heads popped up from their work.  Copia began to make mental notes of who had been on their phones but decided today would be a good day to let that go.  He started to ask if anyone knew an answer to his problem but his phone vibrated again and the message had his heart speeding up dangerously.

Aether:  Even better.     

“I have to go to the bathroom!”  He jumped up from his desk, banging his knees in the process.  His chair shot out from behind him, hitting the wall and making one of his bulletin boards fall to the floor.  Lucifer, what was wrong with him?  Limping, he made his way over to the door, flinging it open and turning back to his class with as stern a look as he could manage.  “No phones!”

He barely avoided breaking out into a run, rushing into the teacher’s lounge and then into the private bathroom inside.  The students would be ok on their own for a bit.  Probably.  Long enough for him to get the nerve to suggest to Aether they continue this conversation that night at his house.  In person and hopefully naked.

Terzo would be so proud of him. 

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More snippets from this verse are on my masterlist under "Ongoing Series"!

Other Mushy May days: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

[the-s1lly-corner]

Shut In (Eyeless Jack x reader oneshot!)

Basic plot: its really cold outside, and you urge Jack to stay in your home with you... he decides to stay despite knowing full well that he will be fine out in the freezing temperatures. You both decide to do things to pass the time and stay warm! Turns out Jack can make a mean cup of hot coco, too

Extra notes: I dont usually write fanfics, and the last one I've written was a personal one from late August... so to say I'm rusty and underexperienced is an understatement! I feel this one ended up a little.. weirdly paced imo but I think I'm still happy with the end result! Dialogue I feel I could have done better on but I'm going to be nice to myself since I mostly write hc posts so this is way out of my comfort zone.. Drafted on Tumblr then sent through google docs to pick up on some mistakes I missed, briefly reread no proper proof reading imo... lets hope this isnt a train wreck + it copied back to tumblr okay!! LMAO

Brief joke about pregnancy/making a pregnancy but its like one small snippet but I know that can make people uncomfortable + implies at least one of the characters is AFAB

Word Count: 2915

Extra Admin's note: I want to say again that I am so so happy about this blog hitting 1k followers, when I first started this blog I was originally going to use it to burn time and have something to do on the side, as well as having a place to put out my cringe ideas and hcs. I never thought this many people would be interested in my dumb thoughts, but here we are! I intend to keep writing this year, and perhaps even make more non-celebratory one shots this year? Maybe? I don't know I guess we'll see the reception on this fic!

It was the middle of the night, around the middle of January. Your boyfriend and you were holed up inside your apartment, you having locked the man up with you after seeing that it was below freezing out, as well as raining. You had to practically beg your boyfriend to stay with you for the night.

Your boyfriend, who also just so happened to be a man eating demon with tar dripping out of his hollowed out eye sockets. Your boyfriend, who was currently sitting still and staring forward, the only sound in the apartment coming from the dripping of your faucet. You had asked him to come visit you, it'd been a while... and he would never ever let you go to his cabin when it's this cold out. So here you both were now.

You pat the palms of your hands on your knees, sucking in one of your cheeks and working the flesh through your jaws for a moment. You were both technically stuck in the apartment now; you didn't want Jack to go out and risk getting sick, and Jack more than likely wouldn't want you to step out for the same reasons. So, you were both confined to what you already had within the space. You were about to open your mouth to speak but Jack broke the silence first. "You're shivering, do you want me to get some blankets?", blunt and almost robotic. He was never that expressive. "Or would you like to go to your room?" He added after a brief pause, his fangs poking just over his lip before he readjusted his mouth. You were both in the living room, sitting together on the couch; the front door to your left and a view of the kitchen to the right. You thought for a minute as your eyes lingered on the kitchen for a moment. You'd already eaten, before your partner arrived... but..

"That's fine, I'm probably going to make some hot coco," You pulled yourself up, stretching up. "Powdered stuff ooor..?" Jack mimicked you. You only shook your head, earning a disapproving look from him. "What?" You questioned, but he only dismissed you. "Why don't you get some blankets, I'll handle it," and he turned on his heel to make his way to the kitchen. "Maybe put on a movie, too, your choice." He added as his voice carried off. "Are you saying I can't cook?" You called back, following after him. No answer as he tugged out a pot. "I'll have you know-" you started once more

"Do you have half and half?" He was already opening your pantry to grab things.

"No, I don't,"

"Heavy cream? Whipping cream? Whatever it's called..." He mumbled as he placed various ingredients on the counter. Cocoa powder, vanilla, salt and sugar. You only nodded, and as he was about to begin working he paused. "Do you want anything else in it? Cinnamon? Nutmeg?" He paused and through gritted teeth, "Coffee?"

It was almost midnight, of course he would be opposed to you having caffeine so late.

"Cinnamon is fine," You watched him get to work. He measured everything out; even mixing the heavy cream with some milk to make a substitute for half and half.... was that really all it was? You weren't sure what you expected it to be, if it weren't..

He pulled his head up and stared at you. It was then that you noticed he had actually taken his mask off and set it at the end of the counter and out of the way. The black ooze dripping from his eyes was slow and posed little threat to dripping into your drink. He had a fistful of napkins on standby to dap his face dry should the flow quicken. "Aren't you going to get the blankets?"

You pat your hands on your thighs, pausing... watching him. His body had a warm glow on him from the old light bulb in the ceiling; it flickered every now and then. Under the yellowed light he almost looked healthy and alive, though there was no glint where his eyes should have been. His sharp nail tapping on the counter brought you back to the moment, blinking a few times. "Yeah.." you mumbled, defeated at the chance of making a drink for yourself stolen from you. But was that so bad?

You backed out of the kitchen, dragging your feet across the floor. Your apartment was.. a little on the smaller side so within a few steps you were in front of your bedroom door. You didn't really pay much attention to your surroundings as you shuffled through the blankets on the bed.. eventually you settled on just grabbing an arm full and waddling back to the living room, dumping everything you had grabbed onto the couch.

The house smelled of cinnamon and chocolate.. with a hint of vanilla.

Turning your gaze to the tv, your eyes scanned across the DVDs you had stacked messily. Nothing sounded good. "Is there anything you want specifically?" You called out as you settled yourself down criss cross in front of the tv and pulling all the cases onto the floor next to you. "Movie wise," You added as you pulled the first case into your hands. The DVD collection for Child's Play.. you had gotten it a few weeks ago, finding it on sale at your local store. You still hadn't popped it in to watch..

"I have.. Chucky, uhm..." You shuffled for the next case. "All the movies by the way.. I have that and.. most of the Friday the 13th movies," You called out. No answer, the only sound coming from the kitchen was the noise of a whisk gently being stirred. "I don't have Jason goes to hell... But!" You pulled out a third case with the Nightmare on Elm Street DVDs. "I DO have Freddy vs Jason," You mumbled and spread the three disks on the floor in front of you. Most of the disks you had, you noticed, were mostly older slasher movies. Still, Jack hadn't answered you. You pull yourself to your feet and trudge back into the kitchen. His back was to you, too preoccupied with the stove... He hadn't noticed you, not yet. An idea blossomed in your head, a smirk pulling itself across your lips. You steeled yourself, trying to force yourself to stop shivering.. Jack was always paying attention to his surroundings, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You take a step forward and he still doesn't notice your approach.

Another step.

And another.

Jack wasn't the tallest, in fact if you wanted to you could rest your chin on his shoulder... and that's what you ended up doing, while wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You could feel his body seize up just a little bit against you, before relaxing. "You didn't answer, what sounds good?" You pulled your eyes down to look at the pot. Your drink was nearly finished. You view rocked as your boyfriend shrugged, still silent but the twitching of his pointed ears let you know he was listening.

"Anything's fine," Another shrug as he cuts the heat. "You're the one cooking for me, you get to pick the movie," You insisted. He paused mid-whisk, letting out a soft huff. Suddenly he spun around, his face just a few inches from yours. In the dimmed light his eye sockets seemed deeper, it's black ooze lazily dripping down his cheeks. You noticed the smudges on his face, from wiping the streaks. You briefly wondered what it was like to sleep with them, but your thoughts were cut short as he pulled a blackened and clawed hand to your hair; tucking a lock behind your ear. "How does...." He paused, sucking in his teeth. He looked almost embarrassed. "Bride of Chucky sound?"

"What? Want to study the characters again so we can dress up again this year for Halloween?" You tease. You had convinced him a few months ago to dress up with you. With him as Chucky, and you as Tiffany... It had taken some begging and convincing but you ultimately got him to agree. Although you didn't go out to get candy, you were both fine with staying inside watching movies together in costume. It was also that night you got him to watch the movies..

His ears darkened, before he scoffed. "No... actually this year I was thinking of..." He took a long pause, visibly scraping his brain for names of characters, before seemingly giving up. "Look I don't watch many movies I don't know any.. characters.." He grimaced, before gently pushing you off of him so he could turn his attention back to the hot cocoa. "We've still got nine months, more than enough time to come up with something..." You shrugged, then smirked. "Not enough time to make a Glen... or Glenda," You teased before turning on your heel. You held back a snicker as you heard Jack splutter, finally processing what you had just said to him.

"W-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and put in the disc, I'll leave it paused for you," You cut him off, still grinning to yourself as you kneeled down to do as you had said.

Soon enough Jack walked into the room with a mug, as well as a platter of cookies. "You didn't have to," You mumbled as you eyed the treats, but he only waved you off as he placed the plate and mug onto the coffee table. "You don't have to eat them, but I figured you might want a snack while watching the movie," He mumbled. You took the mug, and swirled the drink inside of it. "I hope I didn't put in too much cinnamon," Jack added as he watched you. He leaned over and started the movie.

You took a sip, smiling a little as the warmness crept in. "You did good, probably the best hot cocoa I've ever had." You offered a grin to him. "That has got to be the fakest compliment I've ever heard," Jack shot back, though you could see the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I believe this is the most decadent and satisfying beverage I've had ever been graced with in my life, and-" You began, only for Jack to hush you. "I'd rather you throw it on me, don't... say words like that again," He grumbled as readjusted himself into the couch. You took a sip and shrugged, "It's just absolutely immaculate," and he lightly smacked you on the arm. "I'm never making anything for you again," He snorted, before turning his attention to the movie.

You weren't going to lie, you felt a little bad treating yourself to the cookies, knowing Jack was unable to eat them without upsetting his stomach. Being a man-eating monster must really be hard. You purse your lips, and shoot a look at him from the corner of your eye. He must have been doing the same, because he turned his head to look at you. "Do you want to do something else?" He asked lightly, his grin from a few minutes ago already faded. "Do you ever miss eating.. food?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He didn't bother pausing the movie, instead he just fell silent and stared down, into the space between the two of you on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a touchy subject for you," You mumbled and put the mug on the table. You sucked in the air between your teeth, flicking your eyes up to the movie, before bringing them back down to your lap. It stayed like that for a minute before Jack broke the silence. "I mean... yeah, I do. But at least I don't have to eat every day like you do, means I can have more time to do what I want," He said. Clearly, he was still bothered, tip-toeing around the big.. thing about him. The air was still tense and thick, all of the previous joking gone now. It was nearly unbearable. Nearly.

"You know," Jack began after a few more seconds of silence when you didn't reply. "I've never tried cinnamon in hot cocoa, I didn't know that was a thing people did," He was changing the subject. "You haven't?" You asked, raising a brow. He eyed your mug, but you both knew there was no way he was going to take a sip.

"It's really good," You mumbled, and took the drink, "The combo, I mean," You added. He hummed, patting his knees lightly. You swirled the drink again, watching the... what was it called? Those lighter swirls in the drink.. Did that have a name?

"You've had hot cocoa before, right?" You asked. He hummed again, nodding his head. "Well.. the cinnamon makes it warm. Taste wise.. It makes it.." You took a sip and thought for a minute. "Richer, I guess? It's hard to explain," You muttered, then looked back at him. You tore your eyes back down when you saw he was looking right at you, totally hooked onto your words. "I hear nutmeg goes good in it, too.. but I've only tried nutmeg and chocolate together in baked goods," You shrugged. "You did really good with this, you know... not too much cinnamon.. not spicy, at least." You smiled. He nodded, before turning back to the movie.

"Woody, I hear people describe cinnamon like that," He leaned back into the couch, a dull pop came from his back.

"Woody," You repeated, then took a large sip of the hot cocoa. You put the mug down onto the table, and leaned into your boyfriend as the warmth crept and settled into your bones. You weren't even paying attention to the movie, your mind was now occupied with how tired you were. Your eyes slipped up to the clock on the wall, It was nearly one in the morning. Had it only been an hour since Jack walked himself into the kitchen?

You lean deeper into Jack, not caring about his body's natural chill. His clothing still smelled a little like the cocoa from earlier.. "Gotta invest in some cologne, you smell nice like this," You mumbled into his arm. "The cinnamon?" He asked, not looking down at you. "No.. the cocoa, I mean cinnamon would be a nice touch... but you don't seem like a sweet smelling guy, do you?" You muttered. "Are you already getting tired?" Jack asked, and he leaned over you to grab the remote, pausing the movie. You muttered, the heat of the hot cocoa doing way more than you expected on the tiredness you didn't notice you had. "A little," You shrugged, "But we can still try to finish the movie," You offered, but he shook his head. Of course he would, as much of a hard ass or party pooper he came off as, he was going to make sure you were going to get your rest.

You put your hand in his, the one that had the remote.. you unpaused the movie. He paused it, and you unpaused it again. It kind of kept up like this before Jack conceited and kept it playing, although he did lower the volume.. The subtitles were already on, though. "I win," You smirked up at him, before crawling into his lap. You placed your head on his chest, pausing when you felt him stiffen before relaxing against you. His heart beat for a moment before settling to its barely there rhythm. For a minute you thought about asking about his heart, as far as you knew he explained himself like he was becoming a walking corpse... how does that work?

You decided against it, you already asked about him earlier.. and besides, your mind was already beginning to blank as Jack reached to the side of the couch, and turned the lamp off.. It was dark now. It was still raining, you could more clearly hear the drops outside now that the movie was turned down. Plus, Jack was running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. It wouldn't be long until you finally gave in and fell asleep.

"Are you going to still be here in the morning?" You asked, melting into his chest as he hummed in response. "Plan on it, I still need to clean up the kitchen," He added as he curled your hair around his hand. "It'll still be cold in the morning," He added, "I need to make sure you bundle up before you go out for work," He added. "I'm not that dumb," You muttered and lightly slapped his arm. You swear, if he still had his eyes he would have rolled them.

"How do you see? I know you're not.. a normal person, but," You blurted out, lifting your head. He pushed your face back down, shushing you. "Sleep," He ordered, before loosening his hold on you a bit so you could get comfortable. It wasn't an order but it may as well have been with how your body started to loosen into him within the next few minutes, quickly snuffling out your curiosity and questions.

He'd still be here in the morning, you could pester him then. After all, it's what he signed up for when the two of you started to date one another..

[stylinsoncity]

posting this long snippet from the time travel fic i've been writing.. might not make any sense out of context but oh well. i think i'll also post a penn park snippet too. just to confirm for you all that i'm alive and writing lol

“This isn’t Back to the Future, Lou. Everything that’s meant to happen has already happened. Nothing you say can really change that. But it’s bad form and technically violates witch law for us to, like…tell you next week’s winning lottery numbers or something.”

“But it’s not against the rules to bring me here?”

“No,” Harry says. “It’s not like you’ll be going out or interacting with anyone else. You’ll be staying with us.”

“Who’s us?”

Harry peeks at him. He hesitates for a while. “Um. Me…and my husband.”

Louis angles his body to face him. “Husband?”

Harry throws another skittish glance his way.

“So you’re actually…?” Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “When did you decide for sure you were…?”

“Gay?” Harry supplies. “Maybe it was when you kissed me.”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back,” Harry says. “Enthusiastically.”

“Whatever. Is that genuinely when you knew? You started snogging boys exclusively from then on?”

“Well, I was snogging a girl just now before we left, as you saw. And a boy,” Harry says. “But yeah, I guess…not long after that party, I decided to stick to blokes. Or just…one, really.”

Louis nearly misses that last bit. “What?”

Harry turns the radio up. “That’s enough questions for now. And we’re almost home.”

Louis goes on staring at him for a bit longer, wondering if he’s understood correctly. Did Harry meet his husband at that party? Was it someone he met the following week? Was Louis that stupid to step aside and let whoever it was take his place? Apparently so.

The mood grows tenser from then on, mostly due to Louis’ adamant silence and sour mood, neither of which he can justify. Did he expect Harry to never marry? Did he expect Harry to marry him?

Louis snorts aloud and sees Harry sneak a look at him. He sinks further into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and stares through the windscreen for the rest of the ride.

Within the next few minutes, the car slows and turns at the corner of a downward sloping drive. At the end of the drive, as Harry approaches, a garage door rises. Louis didn’t see Harry press any buttons but perhaps it’s automatic.

Then Louis sees him. Or himself. Or his older self. At first he doesn’t believe his eyes. He’s still expecting something dimension-shattering to occur when he’s face to face with a future version of himself. He expects to implode or for Future Louis to fade out of existence. None of that happens, but there’s no denying that the man standing at the door connecting the garage to the house is Louis, eleven years older.

“Trippy, isn’t it?” Harry says, as he cuts the engine. “Ready to meet your future?”

And well, Louis won’t say it aloud because he’d just sound like a dickhead, but his future is quite fit, so the answer is yes. He’s got an actual beard, as opposed to Louis’ vague facial hair. He seems more built and broad around his shoulders and torso. It’s hard to be sure when he’s backlit by the light flowing from the interior of Harry’s home, but even his hair seems shinier and softer. He’s wearing a dark grey knit jumper with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and Louis catches sight of several more tattoos, although he doesn’t get a good look at them before the Older Louis pulls his sleeves down.

Harry pushes his door open, so Louis does the same. And finally meets eyes with himself, unobstructed by the windscreen.

“Forgot how small I was,” Older Louis says and nothing more.

Louis wasn’t expecting to be best mates with his older self or anything, but perhaps they won’t be friends at all. “You’re not exactly Dwayne Johnson, mate.”

Harry snorts, pushing the car door closed. “Don’t start,” he says to Older Louis. He noticeably pats his stomach as he eases past him into the house. It registers as familiar or even flirty to Louis, which is odd but reassuring. At least in the future, in spite of Harry’s husband, they manage to retain their closeness. Harry’s husband must not love that, but clearly Older Louis can’t be arsed.

Louis hears a chorus of barks from further inside and moves more quickly and curiously, eager to see every aspect of Harry’s adult life.

“Shoes off,” Older Louis says to younger Louis at the door. He tacks on a smile. “If you’d be so polite.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him as he shoves his shoes off.

“Come on,” Older Louis says. “I’ll be your tour guide.”

“You don’t even live here,” Louis says.

Older Louis looks at him. “Right,” he says. “Harry just lets me kip here every night ‘cause I don’t have a home of my own.”

“Seriously?”

“The future is tough, mate,” Older Louis says gravely. But just as he turns away, there’s a nearly imperceptible wiggle of his lips that suggests he’d like to laugh.

Louis decides his older self is not to be taken seriously. He’ll get his facts from Harry. Speaking of whom, they find him when they enter the kitchen as he steps inside from the back garden.

“What happened to your dogs?” Louis asks.

“I let them out. Jasper is a senior and when he gets really excited, he wets himself,” Harry says. “And he’ll get really excited seeing two of you.”

“I gave him his meds,” Older Louis says. “Should be fine in a bit.”

“Thanks, babe,” Harry says. His gaze flickers suddenly to younger Louis like he forgot he was there. He clears his throat. “Um, do you want a beer? Or tea? Water?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Louis says.

“Do you like wine?” Harry asks. “I can’t remember if we drank wine at your age.”

“Never too early to start,” Older Louis says. “He’ll like the Malbec.”

“Malbec, it is,” Harry says and goes into a walk-in pantry where he ostensibly keeps the wine. Meanwhile, Older Louis gets three glasses from a cupboard above the sink. He’s really a bit too familiar with Harry’s home. Maybe he is here all the time. Maybe he really doesn’t have a home of his own. Compounded with his imminent death tomorrow, the future doesn’t seem all that bright for Louis. No matter how hot he is.

But his friendship with Harry is a lot to be grateful for. Louis watches Harry and his older self speaking quietly to each other as Harry fills each of the three glasses. He watches Harry laugh at whatever Older Louis says and slap his hand playfully against his chest.

Louis wonders again about Harry’s husband. He wants to ask where he is and when he gets home, but he also never wants him to come home. So long as he’s away, Louis can keep tricking himself into believing he doesn’t exist.

But then he spies the wedding ring on Harry’s finger as Harry hands him a glass of wine and he can’t stop himself from blurting, “Where is he?”

Harry’s brows crease. “Who?”

“Your husband,” Louis says, pointedly.

“Oh.” Harry chews his top lip for a moment. “Why don’t we get comfortable first? Come on.”

Then he takes Louis’ free hand and pulls him off towards the sunken living area. It hasn’t slipped his notice how posh the entire home is. The kitchen was a massive gleaming wonder of marble and bronze. There were five cars in the drive and the first room Louis passed upon entering the home was a gym. He didn’t get a good look at the exterior under the cover of night, but what he could see revealed an expansive upper floor and several outdoor decks.

The living area features two parallel velvet couches, a marble coffee table, and a large flat screen tv mounted above a two-way fireplace. Louis can’t quite tell what’s on the other side of the fireplace but it seems like a formal dining room.

“Your house is fucking amazing,” Louis says, plopping down in a plush leather armchair.

“Thanks,” Harry says, smiling. He sits on the couch across from Louis. “It’s the kind of house you grow into. That’s why we bought it.”

Louis nearly asks if that means Harry has kids, but he has a big greedy gulp of wine instead. He shrivels at the taste initially, finding it bitter and sharp. But then he has another sip and it’s not so much that he likes it, but that he finds it distracting.

Older Louis enters the room much to Louis’ disappointment and takes up the seat right beside Harry.

“I can still get you a beer,” Harry says randomly. “If you don’t like the wine.”

“No,” Louis says. “It’s fine.”

“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know,” Harry says. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable enough, Haz,” says Louis. “It’s just nice to see where you live in the future, and how well you’ve done for yourself. You deserve all this. The husband, too.”

Older Louis exhales a laugh. “Should I get a box of tissues?”

“Shut up,” Harry says.

“Tell him to shut up,” Older Louis says. “This is embarrassing.”

“If you’re so embarrassed, just leave,” Louis says. “I don’t even get why you’re still here.”

Older Louis groans suddenly and loudly, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids. “There’s no way you’re this daft. No fucking way.”

“Louis,” Harry says. “Please.”

[penvisions]

final chapter celebration! {by the grit of sandpaper}

i kinda wanna give celebrating this fic a try since it's been such a journey! was thinking of taking a leaf out of the book of @macfrog, since they did the same for their lovely fic sweet child o' mine that i had an absolute blast following along from the first chapter

{by the grit of sandpaper} has brought me so many new followers and readers and i want to complete the fic with y'all in mind! i've got it mostly outlined but have to actually write the scenes out, so i'm tentatively saying it'll be ready for posting in the next two weeks. with that in mind y'all can be rest assured all your questions about olive and joel will be answered then! i have loved writing this little universe and sharing it with you, the comments and replies on each chapter have blown me away in the best way possible, the energy surrounding this fic has rivaled that of {garnish} and i am so grateful

send in an ask with an emoji between 04/26 and 05/10 and let's celebrate!

🤎 send in an ask about the fic! can be anything from more background on olive or how things between the scenes played out

🍄 send in a mushie for three out of context images for a sneakie peak from the final chapter and epilogue (maybe even one shot ideas and deleted scenes 👀)

🐎 send in a 'small talk' subject and i'll write a small snippet about olive and joel while out on patrol (kinda like the favorite chip flavor convo they had while clearing teton village)

🌲 just share your thoughts on the fic as we come to a close on it, maybe a favorite line or scene

🪚 send this in for a reference pic of what joel's beautiful hands have created!

feel free to send more than one or even multiple! this is for y'all to have fun and for me to get back into the groove of being excited about writing again once things calm down and i'm settled in my new residence, love y'all ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

taglist: @joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal @merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon

@keylimebeag @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel @blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @r4vens-cl4ws @picketniffler @joeldjarin

[for-a-longlongtime]

Songs and musings in the Key of Peña-Rockford

(Those gun holsters have me all fucked up. Seriously.)

I warned y'all about how obsessive my hyperfocus can get, right? Damn ADHD. The choke hold (all the puns intended) that this fic idea has on me is unreal, haha. But all of your comments and encouragements about this Rockford Pena WIP are making me so happy and relieving some of the stress I feel about writing it - thank you! I don't have another snippet to share just yet (so I hope this post isn't too much of a cock tease), but since I always love to read about character thots and writing processes (e.g. the extra posts by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings about her Destiny & Deliverance series, and @gracieispunk with her White Lotus posts), I figured I'd post a little update with some musings and songs I'm associating with this fic.

My Spotify currently is curated by @sin-djarin, who somehow knew just the right songs that relate to this WIP. Particularly these three tracks are on constant repeat. Going back and forth with her about little things that come up, or question ‘why this and not’ has been so much fun really. It makes me giddy because it turns the fic into something collaborative rather than just something from the inside of my brain, you know?

Whisper - Morphine

I included this track the other day already with the WIP snippet; it’s sexy and slow and that bass line really gets to me, then the saxophone ups it even more. @sin-djarin sent me several Morphine songs (I have to admit that somehow I wasn’t familiar with them) but this one stands out. The push and pull that’s happening in the lyrics is also delicious, and a lot of it feels like it’s coming from Rockford’s POV about Javi - that’s all I’ll say about it for now.

A Perfect Twist - Mike Patton

This song has an exuberant, rather bombastic vibe to it that I would’ve never associated with anything related to Peña. Although, those lyrics... they are definitely about brat taming.

I'll bend you over my knee Let's see what you can take You're never gonna break

And I'll squeeze that noose a little tighter Breathing like a snake How much can you take? You're never gonna break

And I'll turn those screws a little tighter You can hardly wait You're never gonna break

Just one more twist of the pliers Got you on the brink How much can you take? You're never gonna break

There’s something about the dizzying tune and pace that somehow evokes the noir-like Rockford vibes in the Merge Mansion clips, laced with liquor and cigarette smoke and things spinning kinda out of control.

Wait who said Masquerade Mansion? 🎭

In relation to these two?

Shhhh let’s pretend you didn’t see that. Keep your eyes wide shut. 🎭

Broad Daylight - Gabriel Rios

This is the only song that suddenly came to me re: this fic, and I was all… the fuck is this. I like the song, it's catchy, but it just didn’t make any sense to me with regard to Javi and Tim. The only thing I could think of in relation to the track was maybe a vague reference of Peña getting caught up with Los Pepes, things that were done in the dark and shouldn't come out in the daylight:

Back in the old days, tight like a fight Used to hang with the devil in the broad daylight

But still, it puzzled me. I think something in one of the Morphine songs musically led me to Broad Daylight, weird as that may sound. After way too many replays of that song (and @sin-djarin joking about 'what are those Polaroids Tim has on Javi?', since the song mentions polaroids), the relevance of the song finally clicked with me;

Look at you shaking you can't find his plight Got you scared of ghosts in the dead of night While you're making up stories trying to make it ok He'll be bringing them in to let them out and play In the broad daylight

We'll see how it goes from there.

At some point, there's also going to be a bit of Marcus Pike in the fic (pancakes!). I have to be honest - I don’t really read a lot of Marcus!fic, so I’ve been trying to figure out how he fits in and some of his character traits etc. But the wonderful @secretelephanttattoo was very quick to offer me some insights about Marcus that I needed! Go read it here.

TBH, I had absolutely not planned to write anything about Peña any time soon, because why I love him in canon and in the many fics I've read, I didn't exactly feel like I had a good enough handle on writing something about him that has some plot rather than just fucking. But then this fic idea popped up. If there's anyone who knows him really well, it's @goodwithcheese (you'd better be reading her incredible new story Paranoid Heart about Javi!). So I dropped some questions and fortunately she was totally up for some character chat right here, which is really helping me figure out some things. Thank you babe, and I hope more people will contribute thots to your 1K Celebration Confessional about their sins!

Also, I've been trying to put a time and place to the fic, but I've decided to not get too hung up about that because it's really not literature but Fic/Porn With Plot. It doesn't all have to make sense. But in case you're curious, I'm leaning towards this taking place in the US in recent enough times that smartphones are a thing.

Age wise, I'm seeing Tim Rockford as being 48/50 years old probably. Javier is about 40, 41 years old - just to give you an idea of 'which Javi' I'm looking at, I've got a sense of him as he is in Narcos S2 around episode 4-9, after Carillo is murdered, and Berna takes him to see Judy Moncada.

Reader insert (I know, I haven't spoken a lot about her yet!) is probably about 40 years old too. And finally, Marcus Pike is give r take about 37 years old, which corresponds with his Mentalist appearance.

BTW, I came across an edit that had all of the Tim Rockford bits from the ads without the additional stuff. A whopping total of 48 seconds. Man, I hope that Pedro is aware of how fucked up he has us about Rockford with less than a minute of his acting. Even my wife said 'I would totally watch a show or movie based on this character' when I played the Merge Mansion ads for her.

Finally, here's a video of Pedro talking about "real fantasy fullfillment in terms of getting to immerse yourself in an experience" and how he "loves being a detective, that's fantasy fullfilment for me" re: the Merge Mansion event day.

*hits replay*

Say 'fantasy fullfillment' one more time? Respectfully.

Like I said, I hope he knows how fucked up he has us all about Rockford. I sure am glad he did these ads and whatever he got paid, it sure wasn't enough.

---------------------------------------------------------

Updated tag list (comment if you want to be added, or if I added you by accident!) based on folks who commented/reblogged on the prev posts:

@sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @morallyinept @5oh5 @missredherring @avastrasposts @anavatazes @imaswellkid @pedrit0-pascalit0 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @survivingandenduring @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @sheepdogchick3 @inept-the-magnificent @northernwindd @alltheglitterandtheroar @readingiskeepingmegoing @txlady37 @rebel-held @alwaysmicado @heareball @clawdee @covetyou @bellsbluebrd @alltheglitterandtheroar @axshadows @casa-boiardi @bastardmandennis @stealyourblorbos @chronically-ghosted @katw474 @beabliss @nerdieforpedro

I don't know why some usernames don't seem to link when I try to tag them, btw. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to fix this?

[usedtobeguest123]

My grandma passed away this last week. She was the matriarch of my family, raising a brood of boys on her own in a new country, and the life I have now I owe to her dedication and sacrifice. She is part of why the character of Abuela resonates so strongly with me, not because of their similarities in character, but because of how meaningful it was to see a story like hers represented in a beautiful, celebrated way in mainstream media.

I'll miss her dearly.

I was going through my unused writing snippets and I found this old one I had started for Encantober "Grief" and never finished. I polished it up a bit and offer it up now in my Abuela's honor. It's inspired by this Twitter-posted poem that resonated with so many people. While I know that there's so much more to the everlasting life after this one, this poem speaks such beauty and childlike peace into that transition, and I adore it for that.

Also, for some reason, I always thought that when the time came for Abuela to pass on, Camilo in particular would have a hard time letting go. Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it go, and all that. He seemed a fitting recipient for this, and also someone likely to ask an uncomfortable question.

Love you Grandma; God bless you and keep you. I can't wait to see you in again in paradise ❤️

------

It had been happening all. freaking. day.

He’d turn the corner, see a cup or a flower or a damn leaf that somehow reminded him and poof, he’d be someone else. Papi. Dolores. Luisa—a mess of people in quick succession. Thank God he’d managed to keep from changing into her. He didn’t think he could deal with that. Ay, he didn’t think any of them could.

No one blamed him though. When Mirabel witnessed one of his involuntary shifts on his way to the kitchen that morning, she’d just looked at him with that sappy, stupid face she was always making and gave him a hug that maybe did help him feel a little better.

Papi had clapped him hard on the back, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder as he shifted back down into his own skin. He'd nodded solemnly, giving him a gentle, encouraging lift under the chin.

Tía Julieta just gave him an extra helping at lunch, teary-eyed yet smiling warmly as always.

But it still sucked.

Dios why couldn’t he just get a grip? He felt so jumpy. Everything set him off. He snapped at Antonio when one of his coatis left cacas outside his room again. Even as he spoke he’d known his voice was a too harsh for the situation. He snapped Isabela, and for once she didn’t snap back. She just sent a tiny bloom of flowers settling into his shirt pocket, their stems only a little spikey. He even snapped at Casita when they both knew he'd just tripped on his own two feet.

But he made sure he was on his absolute best behavior around Mami. You want to talk about jumpy? He had nothing on her. Poor Ma.

He managed to hold it together through the rosary, and the next day at mass too, by some miracle. The ceremony was harder, but he pulled through. But then came the reception. Everyone was talking to him and hugging him and offering condolences and ay how many times can you say thank you, I know she's at peace with just the right sad smile before the words start to lose all meaning? Thank you thank you thankyouthankyo—

So. Phwooo. Here he was now, sneaking out of the reception to the back porch of Casita when no one was looking, just to try to fill his stale lungs with a little more air.

After he shut the door quietly behind him, giving a small pat to the wall in thanks to his accomplice Casita, he turned and was surprised to find he in fact was not alone. There, on the small step that led out to the back patio, was Tío Bruno, a rat of course sitting on his shoulder. Eck. Camilo felt a little shiver go down his back.

He considered turning around to find his own private place to brood, but something stopped him. After a moment, and a small nudge from the tiles beneath his feet, he quietly approached instead.

“Hey,” he said lamely.

“Oh!” Bruno startled, flailing comically, but recovered quickly. “Oh, h-hey there Milo.”

Guess I'm not the only one who’s jumpy.

“Do you mind if I…?” he gestured at the empty spot on the stairs next to his tío.

Bruno nodded rapidly, flapping at the spot with his hands and scooting over a minute amount that made absolutely no difference in available space. Camilo sat.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. The rat had disappeared from Tío Bruno’s shoulder to God knows where. They watched the leaves sway on the large gnarled tree that stood proudly behind Casita.

Man, how old was that thing? It had been there as long as he could remember. At some point, a planter had been built around it where Isabela grew a perpetual explosion of flowers, and a swing hung from one of its thicker branches, but he'd seen pictures of when the back porch had let out to just a field and a tree. Camilo found himself wondering if that old thing had always been there, or if it had come with their Miracle.

It looked ancient. The trunk was at least as wide as four humans, twisting and turning up toward the sky at a slight angle before giving way to countless branches, those branches breaking off on their own as well in seemingly infinite chaos. The canopy splayed out above the courtyard in a protective, verdant umbrella so lush that even in the rain, the area underneath often stayed dry. Down below, the roots wove in and out of the soil like great serpents surfacing for air, defying the boundaries of the neat planter and forever upending the level neatness of the patio.

Camilo couldn’t imagine it not being there. He just couldn’t imagine a world without its constant, unshakeable presence. Something heavy and gripping suddenly settled into his chest, and he swallowed hard.

After a moment, his traitorous mouth opened without being told to and he whispered out question so quietly he wasn't sure if Bruno would even hear him.

“What do you think it’s like?”

“Huh?”

“...dying.” Camilo swallowed again, but didn’t look at his uncle. “What do you think it’s like.”

“Oh.” Bruno’s voice was soft. To Camilo’s surprise, he didn’t fidget or squirm like usual. Instead, he seemed to sort of wilt. Camilo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He'd leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He stared up toward the big tree too, but he didn’t seem to be really looking at anything.

It was quiet for so long, that Camilo considered cracking some kind of joke to cover his tracks.

What are you thinking anyway, tonto? he thought. Guy just lost his mom. You gonna drop a rock like that on him? He really did need to get a grip. He needed to break the tension, ease the mood.

“Well, it must not have been that bad if Abuela allowed it to happen,” he joked, his voice light, wry, and guarding. “I think even La Muerte herself would have layed off if Abuela had given her that one stern look she had, ya know?"

Camilo chuckled, but Bruno didn't laugh. He didn't respond at all. He was still looking at the tree with a distant expression. Camilo narrowed his eyes at him—it didn't even seem like he'd heard a thing.

“...Tío?”

At that, Bruno dropped his eyes down to look at his hands, woven together loosely between his bent knees. He tipped his palms up slightly as if he was looking for something there. He took a slow breath, and then he began to speak.

“When I was a kid,” he said, “a-a real little kid, we had this big party at Casita. You know how it goes. House full of people, everything is busy and bright and loud. I don't remember what it was for anymore, b-but the whole time I just was torn between wanting to not miss a minute of it all, but, but, but also trying to be on my best behavior, like I knew Ma would want, a-and also also trying look out for my sisters, who were doing fine by the way, definitely didn't need me looking out for them but—well, anyway.”

Bruno cleared his throat, and Camilo watched him curiously. He nodded for him to continue, and Bruno nodded back.

“A-anyway, I didn't make it through the whole night. I got tired, like kids do, a-and fell asleep in some corner of the courtyard, heh. Passed right out. And Ma—y-your abuela, she found me and picked me up.”

Bruno looked up then, turning to look at Camilo with a sad, crooked smile and an odd brightness in his eyes.

“She carried me upstairs to my room. I could still hear the party—laughter and singing and music and joy—just in the next room over, but in my room with Mamá it was all still and quiet and peaceful. When she tucked me in, she kissed my cheek, and she whispered, ‘You did well, mijo. You did well. I've got you now.’”

Bruno swallowed. “It…it all just felt so…so…safe,” he shrugged. “Like…relief, I guess. Contentment. Idaknow. I think….maybe, um, maybe dying is… something like that.”

The tight feeling was back in Camilo's chest, and he felt a tear streak down his face before he was even aware it was there. He blinked. Bruno looked down at his empty hands again. The air around them had grown cool, the sun now set. The sound of crickets hummed, and the gentle murmurs from the reception wafted out from the warmly lit windows of Casita. Camilo sniffed loudly.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Bruno nodded with a broken chuckle, and brought a sleeve up to wipe roughly at his own face.

“Yeah. It doesn't.”

Then, without warning, Camilo’s shoulders quaked, his breath hitching and more tears suddenly appearing as all the pent-up pressure of the day rose to the surface and broke free. He choked out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. Bruno put an arm around him.

The wind blew gently through the branches of the tree, ruffling the leaves in a hushed lullaby. The ropes of the swing creaked sweetly along with it. And there on the porch, settled between the warm murmurs of the reception behind them and the cool peace of the star-filled night, after his breathing had slowed and his tears had been wiped dry, Camilo thought that maybe he could finally feel within him a measure of stillness.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Okay I'm super nervous to post this. This is a snippet of my novel I'm going to be publishing later this year (!!!!) And i want to share a bit here. It is an apocalyptic thriller heavy on captivity whump. This is a flashback to our main character being kidnapped and sold. He just got out of the back of a semi where he suffered heat exhaustion. This is one of the pieces I'm happy with so far, so sorry it's throwing you in in the middle!! But hopefully I'll post a bit more as I get further along editing!!

--

Looking back, Jack realized how close he was to death those first few days. He should’ve been in a hospital on an IV, but you know traffickers. They don’t care all that much about human lives.

Every so often the driver of the truck would wake him up and make him drink water, pee in a bucket. He’d blink behind the stupid duct tape blindfold, fumbling for a sense of direction. Sometimes he could hear people talking and walking beyond the walls and windows of the truck and he knew they were at a truck stop.

Faintly, he remembered seeing posters on the inside of stall doors from a trip he took for basketball last year. About the sign for help. Again, he wished he cared enough about kidnapping to remember any of that.

“Can… can I go to the bathroom?” he asked, hoping for a miracle.

Something thudded. “Bucket’s there kid. I’m not looking.”

Jack had no way to know that was true. It was in the back of his mind every time. “No. I gotta like… go.”

It thudded again. “Yeah. I know. Bucket’s here.”

“I’m not… Not in front of you.”

“That’s up to you. But if you shit your pants then you are definitely riding in the back, so keep that in mind.”

He probably would’ve followed Jack into the stall anyway.

Every time Jack was done, the man would give him pills to knock him out, and then wake him up again.

This time, he shook Jack awake and made him sit up. Jack’s head lolled back for a

moment before he could fully wake up. He was so weak and tired, there was no way he would’ve been able to walk to the bathroom anyway. The duct tape was ripped off and he inhaled a deep breath before the water bottle was pushed to his mouth.

“You gotta piss?” Jack shook his head when the bottle left. “Good.”

Then his hands started to tear away the tape over his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, tongue heavy in his mouth. He blinked hard against the bright light and was suddenly filled with hope at the idea that he was being let go. Maybe the man felt guilty and wanted to fix the error of his ways! However, after his eyes adjusted he realized that it wasn’t the afternoon sun in his eyes, but the overhead light in the cab.

“My leg of the trip is over. Keep quiet or I’ll put the tape back on got it?”

Jack nodded, too scared to do anything but follow along as the man led him - half carried him really - out of the truck and on the dark pavement.

They were at a rest stop, an abandoned one by the looks of it. The streetlight was off, the bathroom doors boarded closed. There was a broken swing on the overgrown playground.

There was only one other car in the parking lot. A man leaned against the hood. Tall, with a long face set with lines telling his age. Couldn’t be less than forty, maybe fifty. He was wearing a dirty jacket and jeans, like he’d been working outside all day. A baseball cap covered what looked to be graying hair.

The driver let go of Jack and he fell to his knees without the support. A hiss of pain escaped him as loose gravel dug into his knees.

“Will it do?” the driver asked.

The new man looked Jack over, never moving from his spot leaned against his car. “He will.” He reached into his rolled down window and pulled out a manilla folder, tossing it to the driver.

Jack felt like his skull had been cracked open and ice cold water was poured over his skeleton as he realized what was going on. It was a trade. A deal. A traffik. Is that what it’s called? He was being sold like an animal.

The driver took a peak in the envelope, nodding satisfactorily. “Will you be needing anything else from me?”

“Not at all.”

“Pleasure doing business then.” The driver turned to leave but Jack threw himself at his feet suddenly, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“No!” he cried, desperate to not be taken even further from home.

Even though he’d already been passed through two people and driven who the hell knows where, as soon as he got in that man’s car it was final. No more traveling. He was going home with this guy. How would he call for help then? How would he get away? He was taken and now being sold to -- to who?! Maybe he really will be raped. Or experimented on or cut up and sold for parts or--

“No please!” he begged. “Don’t, please I wanna go home! I wanna go home!”

Hands gripped his waist and he tried like hell to kick out, to fight back. He even tried to bite at him, but only got open air. Jack was just too frail at the moment. There was no way he stood a chance against this strong stranger.

The trunk opened and Jack threw his feet up, attempting to stop himself from getting in, panic enveloping him once again. “No! Don’t make me get in there! I won’t be able to breathe!”

His knees were kicked in and he fell right in, arms bound uselessly.

“Feel free to scream as much as you like,” the new man said as he slammed the door shut.

Jack did. He screamed and kicked so much that he did run out of air and passed out. When he woke, the trunk was open again, cool night air filling his lungs and making him cough.

The man threw a bag over his head before roughly taking him by the arm and dragging him out of the trunk. He ignored all of Jack’s tearfilled demands to be let go immediately.

“Some stairs now. I recommend you tread lightly if you don’t want to be thrown down.”

He did, taking shallow breaths like he would be able to hear the stairs better if he did. The bag was taken off of him after another short walk at the bottom, once he was pushed to his knees.

“You can call me Mr. Reeder,” the man said, smiling down at him. “And this is your new home.”

--

That first night was one of the hardest. Jack had to try to go to sleep himself for the first time, with no drugs or panic to aid him. The only thing he knew to compare what he was feeling to was when he went to summer camp when he was 10. First time away from his mom, like really away. He couldn’t call her when he wanted to leave, couldn’t hear her voice. It’s all encompassing, realizing that you are isolated. That you are alone in a way you never have been before.

But even at summer camp Jack knew that he was going to go home in a week. This? There’s no end to this. Jack might… die here. Alone in the basement without seeing his mom ever again…

He buried his face in his pillow and screamed and screamed. When he was too exhausted to keep going, he curled on his side and imagined he was in his mom’s bed with her by his side.

[echoing--stars]

Hello worm. For your prompts, maybe Wind trying to show off to Wars how he’s just as much a hero as him despite his age? It can be fluffy or angsty, you decide. Also bonus points if Wind discovers Wars enlisted early and starts calling him a hypocrite

This was an amazing idea! I wish I could write more for it, but I hit a wall of fatigue (thanks flu shot and covid booster cries) so this is all I got. Maybe I'll come back to it!

(If you read this and would like to request a short snippet, see this post!)

Wind was sick of being treated like a kid. He didn't get as many watches as everyone else and never the second watch. They'd stopped early when he'd complained about the walk — even though Legend had been complaining for an hour. He was stuck with guarding civilians while the others battled the monsters. And now Warriors was getting his arm stitched up by Sky after taking a hit meant for Wind. He bided his time, however. Wind was mad but he wasn’t mean. He waited until Sky was finished with the stitches and bandaged Warriors’ arm. And then waited until they’d moved away from the battlefield and made camp. Warriors stood and stretched, then grabbed his waterskin, saying he was going to the nearby stream. Wind grabbed his own waterskin and followed. Warriors didn’t acknowledge his presence, but Wind knew better than to think he hadn’t been noticed. He wasn’t exactly trying to be sneaky, but he’d long since learned to not startle the captain, especially after a battle. When Wind kneeled down next to Warriors to fill his water skin, Warriors turned to look at him. “How are you doing, Sailor?” Wind pulled his waterskin out and slammed the lid back on. He rocked back on his heels before standing up. “How am I doing? I should be asking you that.” Warriors sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. He stood up and stepped away from the water before turning to face Wind. “I’m fine. The cut was small and Sky took care of it.” “You took a hit meant for me.” Warriors froze for a moment, and his eyes met Wind’s. Like this, their height difference seemed greater than normal. “It—” “I’m not a kid, captain! I can fight my own fights! You don’t need to get injured to protect me.” “Sail—Link. That sword was heading for your back while you were engaged with another enemy. It was coming from your left, so you wouldn’t have been able to block it with your shield. I took a calculated risk to save your life.” Wind opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He’d known the enemy was there, had sensed the attack. But he hadn’t realized how dire it almost was. As much as he wanted to believe that he could have escaped the attack, he trusted Warriors’ battle experience to know what he was doing. “Okay fine. What about not letting me take second watch? And me taking fewer watches than everyone else?” Warriors tried to respond, but Wind cut him off. “Or putting me on guard duty while everyone else fought the monsters in Twilight’s world a few weeks ago?” Wind could feel the heat in his cheeks as he ranted. “I am just as much of a hero as anyone else. And I’m sick of being treated otherwise!” Wind took a deep breath. He spoke his final words soft and cold as a steel knife. “And one last thing. I overheard something the other day. That you lied about your age to enlist early. You’re such a hypocrite.” Warriors sighed and his shoulders fell slightly. It was as if he’d aged years just in the past few moments. Wind didn’t feel bad about it in the slightest. Warriors gestured to a fallen log a bit further away from the river. “Sit with me?” Wind huffed, but stomped his way over to the log and sat as far away from Warriors as he comfortably could.

“Link, I know you’re a hero. You’re amazing. Maybe even the best of all of us.” Warriors looked up to the sky where, the stars were just starting to come out. Wind scoffed. Fancy words with no substance behind them. “I’m serious!” Warriors said. “You’re the youngest of us, but your skill in battle rivals even the best fighters among us. You defeated Ganon and saved your world—” “Before you even joined the army,” Wind muttered and crossed his arms. “Exactly.” Warriors rubbed a hand over his eyes. “But that’s exactly why you should get to be a kid sometimes.” That made Wind pause. Warriors took the chance to carry on. “We all grew up too fast. Nearly all of us began our journeys before we reached adulthood. Some of us never stopped once we started, or at least not for many years.” Warriors expression was grim. It reminded Wind of the old man. “If I can give you — and all the younger heroes, for that matter — a chance to be a kid sometimes, I will take that chance. Over and over again.”