#needs to take away the internet

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

what is up with the lack of commenting on ao3 in our modern age 😩

[shitouttabuck]

what if i wrote a twisters au……….

[vinnyandthephenomena]

i should be asleep but No. my mind is consumed by the thoughts of tim wright

[trans-cuchulainn]

briefly (or maybe not briefly, we'll see) killing reblogs on the parchment bingo. if i had known it would spread that much and be treated as an educational resource, i would have worded the whole thing differently, framed it in more positive terms etc – things you might not know about parchment, ways to make your novels better, whatever

the trouble is that a) i DIDN'T intend it as an educational resource and b) i'm fairly sure if i'd done that it WOULDN'T have spread the way it did when framed negatively as mistakes people make, because the internet thrives on negativity and would rather pull things apart than build them up

but. i actually don't love being part of that and i regret contributing to that phenomenon when i generally try to focus my energies on things i like rather than things i don't like. i genuinely didn't think it would spread beyond my immediate circle because to my mind it was niche bitching that around 20 people would care about, not something people would share widely, but that's not an excuse, I've been on the internet long enough by now to know better

anyway. mercy killing the post for a bit in the hope of slowing the spread

[invinciblerodent]

Another case of the "I'm not done"-s seems to have possessed me, because the immortality and rebirth of elven souls and this fucking elf/vampire!elf romance I'm doing right now is kind of ruining me.

Because, well... look.

This shit is ripe for angst.

For so long, there is no real reason to think much about the passage of time. Death, it's but an abstract far in the future- a bridge to be burned when they get to it. It's easy enough to practically forget that mortality is a thing to account for: with both the endless stretch of centuries they have and her body as unchanging as his, that thought can be kicked further down the road for what feels like it might even be an indefinite amount of time. Their lives just inch along, endlessly, and twine together like the roots of an ancient forest, building around- and with one another. Friends come and go, live and die, and yet, every moment, every day, is permeated by the other's presence: even in their "sleep", they're reliving shared memories (there is scarcely another kind, by now) while holding one another.

Talking about which of their adventures they chose to remember in Reverie is one of his favorite parts of the night.

Until one evening, as she opens her eyes to greet both him and the nightfall with a smile, he catches... just the faintest opaque, silvery glint in her pupils. It's barely a flash, gone in an instant, as if it was merely a trick of the light, but the thought, like a pesky insect, begins buzzing in his head. It will not let him rest.

With this new thought gnawing at him, he can't not see that there's almost a... strange distance, to her now. Even with this hazy half-awareness, it would have slipped his note if he hadn't come to know her quite so intimately over the past half millenium, if he hadn't memorized her cadence and heard her every loving thought as if it was his own. But he's attuned to her: even as her fingers glide through his hair, and her lips speak her words of love like they have so many times before, the same words, they... ring slightly hollow, robotic, automatic in their sweetness now, and once the dreaded Sun begins inching over the horizon and he's forced back into the shadows once more, her kiss goodbye lingers just one second longer, she holds him just a touch tighter before she'd be out the door.

All day, he circles the darkened room like a trapped animal, mind flush with thoughts of robotic words, silver glints, and a creeping dread. Surely, it cannot be what he thinks. It cannot. It wasn't a half-moon, it's not the Transendence, it was merely a... a reflection off something, moonlight bouncing off a silvered picture frame, or the twinkle of a magelight lighting the street glancing through an improperly closed curtain, a... a stomach bug that she's toughing out and is too stubborn to say anything about, something. It cannot be what he thinks, fears that it was.

The day drags on, the hour he'd expect her back comes and then passes, and when she returns, it is closer to sundown than it normally would be. Usually when she must leave for the day, she tries to time her return so that they can rest together, and then emerge from their chambers at the exact moment of nightfall to maximize the amount of time shared, the time he can walk free with her on his arm, but today, she returns with darkness on her heels, and bittersweet sorrow marring her face.

"Arael, we need to talk," she says, and the beloved endearment in their shared native tongue, 'heart' and 'hearth', 'center' and 'lover' in a single word, turns to acid in his ears. Instantly, he knows what she's going to say.

"How long have you known." It's not a question in tone, only phrasing- the hiss of his own voice feels alien in his throat. "When were you planning on telling me."

"It's been... a few days."

A few days. A few days, she's been...! He can't bring himself to think the word 'dying'. He can't. His knees give way under the weight of her words, and he crumples onto the nearest chair.

"You.... should have told me right away." He wants so dearly to be furious. His hands itch to rip, to tear, to destroy everything, his tongue aches to spit bile that'd make her feel exactly the pain he does in this moment... Gods, it was so easy to grow complacent and start believing in forever, to stop counting the hours, the days, the years, and still, it's her godsdamned near-forgotten mortality that's come knocking-- now, that his life is inexorably intertwined with hers, that she's been the other half of his soul for long enough to see the birth and death of friends and enemies, the rise and fall of monarchs, nations. And yet, her life's thread is soon to be clipped, while his must stretch on, infinite.

He buries his face in itching palms and swallows the bile to make room for the flood of grief. "I could have prevented this," he whispers now, "We could have had the chance, at forever... forever, if I could have turned you, if only I had-- if I--"

A soft hand on his shoulder stills him now. "Arael," she repeats, and traces a line to his chin, gently urging him to look at her. "I could not have dreamed of a more blissful, blessed life, than the one I shared with you. But--"

"Don't say it!" She winces as he snaps, and his hand is now grasping her wrist, insistent, hard enough to almost hurt, as he presses her palm against his cheek. "Don't, it's not over yet-- she may be calling, but you don't have to answer, you can stay--"

"I can't, my love."

"But--!"

"Arvandor is calling my soul, Astarion. The Gate is open. Sehanine has shown me; I must answer."

"But not yet, there's still time, you--!"

Her thumb gliding feather-light over his lips cuts off his desperate shout. "I have time enough to get my affairs in order," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I can delay it no longer than maybe another tenday. For now, please... simply be with me."

~

That night, they make love. Tender, aching love that leaves them both tearful in one another's arms- his whole body shakes, racked with heavy sobs as he buries his face in her chest, as if that way he could melt into her, to keep her here, keep her safe, keep her for himself, or... or follow her, anchor his soul to hers, stow away and smuggle himself into the afterlife that rejected him, so they can be reborn together, find one another again, have another six hundred years, and another, and another...

Hopeless. A fool's desperation, no more. There's no tricking the Seldarine: he had rejected rebirth in favor of this wretched, eternal half-life the moment Cazador's fangs sunk into his flesh so long ago now, and his soul was rent from Arvandor. There's no changing that now, no fighting it, and no putting it off longer either. So he kisses her through the sobs once more, makes love to her once more, and drinks deep from her once more, willing his tongue to carve this memory of her taste, her essence, her love as deep into his mind as it may.

She takes the promised tenday to get her affairs in order, and to set up all that may only be done during sunlit hours: she organizes herself a nighttime funeral, arranges for her assets to be dealt with as she may, and makes sure to hold him tight, to mourn with him as if she herself wasn't the one dying. And each night, she speaks sweet, reassuring nonsense of the permanence of memory, of rebirth, and the aching, heartrending beauty of gentle endings.

And once no more minutiae is left to handle, there is no more delaying the inevitable.

She is laid to rest in a modest ceremony, in a small circle of trusted friends, under the light of a waning moon.

~

He mourns, bitter and alone, for years- barely leaving his chambers out of necessity, flitting through the nights as a ghost not entirely unlike the one he was so long ago, until one evening he wakes to find the pain... bearable. There will quite possibly never not be a wound on his soul now, but even the deepest wounds, they scar over: there's new, tender flesh, pink and gnarled, stretching over the void of her absence now. And life, it continues as it does, relentless.

Decades pass. The new flesh, it toughens, thickens, until it can scarcely be seen, unless you know where to look for it: the loss now lives only in the absent-minded seeking of her warmth in his cold slumber, in the automatic gesture of taking two wine glasses from the cabinet only to set one back down; it lives behind the locked door of her untouched workshop and in the slip of parchment left between the yellowed pages of the book she had never finished reading.

Until one evening, shortly after nightfall, there is a knock, hard and insistent, on the door.

His body redies itself for a fight, as if a hunter might be so bold as to announce their arrival- but curiosity, it's too hard to resist, and he scarcely makes an effort.

It's... an elf. But not any elf- a woman, younger, taller, and fuller in figure than she was, and her hair, it's a tightly curled warm chestnut rather than her blood-red waves, but it's unmistakable: her features, they are exactly the same. The same fire amber eyes, the same freckles dotting her cheekbones, even the same raised mark at the edge of her jaw that sits there like an insect had folded its wings and chosen to make its home on her skin. And the stranger speaks, with her voice, before he could find his own.

"So you do live!" she says, equal parts disbelieving and relieved, "Or, well, something like that. I could tell that you were a vampire, from the-" she gestures vaguely to his face, "-fangs and all, but I still wasn't sure I'd ever actually find you."

There's... a prickle of understanding. It's her, but... not quite. Her soul. Her, but born anew. And she returned in a way, to reminisce, to meet him once more- and his mouth opens, but the words, wary and elated and tender at the same time, get lost on their way to his lips.

It's an imperfect replica of her laugh that leaves the woman's mouth. "Gods, don't gape at me like a beached carp like that! I've been seeing nothing but your damn face in my trance for decades now; I was looking for you, hoping you could answer some questions I have." The familiar stranger flashes her mischievous smile. "Can I come in? I feel we have a lot to talk about."

~

There is no love in this. But, there's nevertheless something... bolstering, in the unique opportunity he can present to the new owner of her soul: the opportunity to get to know, truly know, who she once was. Halting and strange as it may be, they do talk quite a long time, and when she leaves, it's with gratitude, and a short, awkward, one-armed hug that she bids her farewell.

And time stretches, infinite yet again.

As long as he may live, her soul, it continues seeking his across however many lifetimes, until one day, the strange elf finds the door in their hazy memories hanging off its hinges, and the home, collapsed and empty, maybe for decades now.

Occasionally, it is still said that in each generation, there may very well be an elf born whose soul feels an irresistible need to make a curious, solitary pilgrimage to the ruins of a city once known as Baldur's Gate, and hope against hope to find a pale man with red eyes wandering the empty streets.

And maybe, a woman who had once lived there so many centuries ago was right: there's an aching, heartrending kind of beauty in that.

[lovvecherrymotion]

someone save them this is a cry for help 😔😔💔💔

[melangedmess]

Wooah wait im having a spiritual moment (realising taylor swift isn't what she paints herself as, she's nothing more than a climate criminal, white-feminist, capitalist who appropriates other cultures for profit)

[lilisouless]

KAZ BREKKER IS A FAIRY GODMOTHER!

[andy-clutterbuck]

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐤/𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧-𝐨𝐟𝐟  📸 :𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐳

[spam-uel]

I'd like to apologize...

this makes "Where No Man Has Gone Before" sound awfully suggestive

[triglycercule]

im on vacation how can i make this about the murder time trio. mtt fresh out of a flight and the minute that they leave the airport dust stops horror and killer for the smoke break. because being around a smoker is like that. and while horror is dying and coughing from the cigarette smoke and killer is pretend coughing to make dust feel terrible theyre both simultaneously roasting the shit out of dust for being such an addict smoker. cancer speedrun GO says horror. refreshing his signature smell says killer. dust just glares at them and blows smoke in their face (horror literally takes damage he's at 0.7 HP)

[eldritcheyecryptid]

Bill Cipher is an honorary Uhaul lesbian.

[grocerystoreanxiety]

Being a hater towards the ed today, shit’s super fucking dumb. What am I planning to achieve with this???? Literally like it doesn’t even go the way your ed-brain wants you to think, like you get to ur ugw and suddenly everyone is jealous & wants to look lik you. Like nah, you’ll just get pity & weird looks from strangers bc everyone can see you’re not doing well and they’ll treat you as if you’re dumber than you are (the infantilization of ed ppl is so real out there (whole another topic but in short: I hate it)), what the actual fuck am I doing this for ?????

[karrotkings564]

He’s bald! He’s bald and he’s torturing people who have hair!

[valiantroeagleangel]

On replay.

Will Ramos x female reader

Not that much of a plot, toy, masturbation.

Tag list: @circle-with-me @witchyweeb3 @malice-ov-mercy @darkhallcorner @sthnog @loeytuan98

Yes, I have a tag list now 🥹 (*proud mama intensifies*) Still possible to add people if you tell me what you're interested in, love you ♡

Wrote this last week because why is no one writing about Will? I haven't found one fanfiction on him and that is SCANDALOUS (please send me some, this is a desperate lady talking). Anyway, my man is so hot he deserves some recognition. Even if this is more a drabble than a real smut, we're going straight to the point here.

Will was leaving tomorrow and you hated that. He was going on tour, once again. The last time he left was kind of hard for both of you, you were used to it now but it still hurt. You didn’t want him to leave you, even if it was something regularly happening.

Sitting on the edge of the bed you were rummaging through the drawer of the nightstand looking for an old necklace you left there while Will was finishing his luggage next to you, always doing it last minute.

You heard him groan in the closet, looking for some t-shirt that apparently "mysteriously disappeared in the night because I swear I saw it there yesterday", which made you chuckle.

-I'm being serious! Don't laugh! I saw it, I had it in my hands and then I went to the nightstand and- He was reproducing the things he did last night to remember where he put it.

When he turned himself toward the nightstand, you decided to open the little door under the drawer, revealing his shirt. Happy he smiled, stepping to you to take his clothing as he left a sweet kiss on your forehead to thank you.

But when you started to close the door you found a box that was concealed under his shirt, hidden with a discreet wrapping paper. Bending yourself a little you took it in hand with no idea of what it was.

Will had already disappeared again in the closet when you called him, curious. Deafened by all the noises he was making, he didn't understand what you said until he pulled himself out.

-What did you say, love? He asked, his head turning too far towards you.

-What's in this box? You lifted your hand, showing him the present you held.

His eyes widened, not expecting you to find it already but obviously, he lost his shirt when he hid that here so finding his shirt also meant finding the box.

He bit his lower lip, letting all the clothes he had in his arms on his suitcase. Slowly, he came to sit next to you on the bed, his fingers tangling with themselves.

-It's um- it's for you. I thought about giving it to you later but I guess you can open it now. He was a bit awkward and you arched a brow at him, not sure where he was going.

Silently, you tore the paper off revealing a black box, very minimalist which was definitely not helping you to know what it was. Curious again, you questioned him silently as he leaned on the bed, trying to relax.

-Come on, open it now, you're stressing me.

He laughed softly at you while you resumed your unboxing. Opening it you discovered a purple toy, that was quite long, making your eyes widen.

You looked back at Will trying to guess what was going on inside his head but he only looked back at you, a small grin on his lips.

-It's for you to not feel that lonely. I chose it myself, it does that little thing you like when I touch you. He mimicked it with his fingers, making you blush urgently.

He quickly noticed your discomfort, his smile leaving him as he straightened himself.

-I mean it's okay if you don't want it. I just thought that maybe, I don't know, that way you would think about me? Maybe it would make you feel less lonely, it's like I would be there? Well not really but I thought about that so... God, I don't know. It's fine if you don't like it, really.

He was panicking and you felt your cheeks flushed at his words. It's not like you never talked about it, you just never took the plunge and suddenly it made you feel a bit hot.

Will passed a hand through his hair, waiting for you to say something but you muttered yourself in silence, butterflies installing themselves in your stomach as you thought about masturbating with it, Will settling in your fantasies.

Imagining how you would just lay on the bed, missing him, imagining him touching you while you fucked yourself with the toy. Moaning his name like he was the one with you.

Shit, you were certainly blushing hard now as you tried to shake all your phantasms away. He called your name, trying to get your attention back to him but you only kept to mindlessly stare at him.

Will sighed, a bit disappointed by his gift, he thought it was a good idea in the beginning. Now he overthought it and felt like it was a really shitty idea. Of course it would make you uncomfortable, you were not as comfortable about all of this as he was and he knew that.

He felt bad to have made you uneasy like that.

-Excuse me, love. I should have known it was going to bother you.

He leaned on to kiss your temple making you close your eyes at the feeling while he took the box from your hands.

-It's okay Will. You breathed out, finally focusing on him, your thighs discreetly clenching together.

-I'm sorry. He looked at you with puppy eyes only to find you breathing a bit more heavily next to him.

-Don't be. You exchanged another look as you boldly spat out your words. You can use it on me. Please, use it on me.

For once he was the one stupidly staring at you with a surprised look on his face. He didn't answer you, his mind racing to proceed if you really just said that or not.

-Use it on me before you leave. You shifted closer to him. Use it on me so that I will think of you every time I'll fuck myself with it.

Alright, it didn't take him much more time to realize what you just said now. He was not going to let that chance go away. Without thinking he threw the box to the side, jumping on you in the second.

You both giggle at his reaction, letting him crawl to you as you lay down on the bed. His lips quickly came for yours, pecking your mouth while you gently cupped his face. Ghosting his lips against yours, he eventually pulled back with a smirk, making you chase him.

-So, you're keeping it?

-Hm hm, maybe. You draw him back to your lips, forcing him to kiss you again.

Of course, you were keeping it, that was one of the hottest things he did for you. You may almost want him to leave earlier so that you can use it by yourself already.

His lips still on yours you felt his hands ramble immediately to your pants, putting them down. His hot fingers started to brush your hips and thighs gently, his gaze still on your face.

-You're sure it's alright, love?

-Yes. You nodded, whining a bit as you squirmed under him. Please;

He smiled at you, lowering his head to your thighs, gently kissing the interior. His hot breath against your skin, your hands quickly found the back of his head, pushing on it.

Looking down you felt your insides tighten as you met his gaze. He was staring at your face, analyzing every one of your expressions. His mouth left your thighs to rise to your underwear, kissing your core through it until he lifted his kisses again, pushing your shirt up to leave wet kisses on your stomach.

You gasped and shifted under him, feeling one of his hands joining your core where his mouth left you alone. His fingers gently brushing onto you, they tried to be as gentle as they could to not attack you directly.

Your gaze wandering you saw the toy on the side of the mattress, not far away from you and it made you clench at the sight. Urging Will, you reached out to the nightstand, pulling out a tube of lube.

You felt him smirk against your stomach, his lips not leaving you as he intensified his caresses on your wet underwear, making a soft moan escape you.

-Will, hurry. Please.

You tried to rock your hips against his hand, looking for more friction. 

Gladly he obeyed you, his fingers dipping in the clothing as they immediately found their way to your core. Pleasure got to you, your cheeks and feet heating as his fingers slowly started to thrust into you and, fuck, it felt good already. 

Extending your arm you reached out for the box, grabbing it and silently giving it to Will.

His head stood up, leaving your belly to look at you, then at the box as he opened it with one hand. He put the toy out and showed it to you making you realize the size of it. You clenched on his fingers, your eyes widening while you looked back at him a bit panicked.

-There is no fucking way that this is going to fit.

He curled his fingers inside of you, reaching that sweet spot, just like you liked it as a loud moan escaped you.

-Yes it will. He came to kiss your cheek. Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you.

Reluctantly you spread your legs, watching him fall back to sit on his knees between your thighs. Taking the lube that you got out a little before his fingers left you, making you feel the emptiness of their demise. You sighed at the feeling, letting Will grab the toy and put some lube on it.

-We don't want your new friend to hurt you, hm? Be patient.

You tried to be but the view of your boyfriend, cautiously wetting the object, made you want more even if its size scared you a bit.

His hand resting back on your inner thigh he kept your legs open for him, teasing you with the tip of the dildo. The coldness of the thing made you squirm under him, your legs automatically trying to clench together.

Still, he slowly pushed it in you, watching you stiffen every time he went a bit deeper. Your face contorted as you felt the silicone completely fill you. Once the toy fully in you, you tried to reach for Will, your arms extending as you straightened yourself a little bit.

He gladly came to you, his head finding its way to your neck as he nibbled on your skin. After some time you felt your hips starting to move on their own, eager for more when you were ready to fuck yourself on your own on that thing if he wasn't willing to move it.

You only heard him chuckle as his hand quickly pressed something at the bottom of the toy, turning it on when you expected the least.

The feeling got you jolting under him, your arms immediately coming to surround his neck making you cling to him. 

He let you do so, turning the switch once again as the vibrations intensified. Only a desperate cry got out of you. You didn't know how to react to the sensation, it just felt really good and really quick. The sensation of Will leaving kisses on your neck and jaw at the same time got you overwhelmed. You just needed more of that, you could crash him on your chest to feel more of that heat.

Will's lips came to yours, kissing passionately as his hand inclined the toy to a different angle inside of you.

-Do that again- God, just like that, right there. You tensed up at the feeling, letting him hit that spot again.

Separating himself from you he straightened a bit, one of his hands still playing with you while the thumb from his free hand came to your clit, circling on it.

His finger in synchronization with the toy got you reaching your high much faster than you both expected. You begged him to come back to you, needing to feel his body tower you when your orgasm washed over you. Leaving your clit he leaned on again, his lips on yours he kissed you as his other hand kept fucking you through your orgasm.

Once you stopped trembling under him he turned it off leaving it in your core nonetheless.

-Already came, ugh?

You looked at him totally enhanced as you nodded, tears in your eyes.

-Fuck, I love that thing. He smiled, proud of himself and his buy. I'm going to make you come over and over.

His body left you to regain its place between your thighs, he kissed them one more time before turning it on again.

By instinct you grabbed his curled hair firmly, surprised by his actions.

-Why are you turning this on again? You moaned, still way too sensitive from your first orgasm.

He bit your inner thigh.

-Oh we're going to do that all night, until the only thing you'll be able to remember when you touch yourself is how much I made you come with that thing.

[lunar-wandering]

head hurty